Actually Asten

Before I ever wrote a word, I was spinning.

Not in a metaphorical “my head was spinning with ideas” kind of way — I mean literally spinning. Arms out. Room a blur. Mind wide open.

It started as something that just felt good. Comforting. Regulating. But over time, it became something else entirely: it became my portal. The place where my stories lived. Every twirl was a transition into another world — one where Basil Brush had dramatic plotlines, side characters fell in love, and somehow, I was the one calling the shots.

People probably saw a kid lost in her own world. But inside, I was building that world. I didn’t have a notebook or a script, but I had full episodes playing in my head, complete with emotional arcs and cliffhangers. I didn’t know it yet, but I was writing. I was creating. I was storytelling in motion.

I think that’s something uniquely autistic that not many people talk about: how creativity and movement often go hand in hand. For me, stillness wasn’t where ideas lived — spinning was. That’s where I felt safe enough to let my imagination run wild.

And sure, I might not have written down those early Basil Brush fanfics (honestly, who knows what unhinged brilliance was in there), but they mattered. They shaped me. They were the first sparks of what would one day become full-on novellas, blog posts, book series, chaos gremlins like Daisy, and storylines that make me cry in public cafés.

I’m grateful for that spinning era. For the space it gave me. For the girl who found comfort and creativity in movement. And for the stories that were never “lost” — just waiting for the right moment to be told.

---

🟣 Daisy’s Corner: Spin Me Right Round

Right. So let me get this straight. Asten used to spin in circles, and during this dizzy chaos, she mentally produced entire seasons of Basil Brush: The Untold Dramas?

I’m sorry, that’s iconic behaviour. Borderline concerning, but iconic.

Also, imagine if spinning had been the only way she could write. Like she had to pace out Fangirl to Forever in pirouettes. She’d be a dizzy blur with a published trilogy.

I’m now fully petitioning for her to spin again when she’s stuck on a plot. Just in the kitchen. Arms out. Everyone else confused. Max the chihuahua judging silently.

Anyway, if anyone finds the scripts to “Basil Brush and the Secret of the Lost Sandwich,” please send them my way. I’ll do dramatic readings.