Thanks for the rich and layered prompt—this is a fascinating subject. I’ll explore how the mythic architecture of storytelling transforms in neurodivergent creators, particularly those with autism, including:
I’ll also look into the links you provided and expand with reputable sources from psychology, literary criticism, and creative writing communities. I’ll let you know once the full report is ready for review.
Figure: The “Ugly Duckling” transforming into a swan – a classic fairy tale metaphor now often read as a neurodivergent self-discovery allegory. Neurodivergent creators are increasingly reimagining mythic storytelling structures through their own unique lenses. Traditional narrative frameworks like Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey and Jungian archetypes are being adapted to reflect neurodivergent experiences and ways of thinking. In recent years, neurodivergent (ND) authors and artists – including those on the autism spectrum, with ADHD, dyslexia, and other profiles – have begun authoring their own narrative identities rather than being confined to outsider depictions. This report explores how ND storytellers engage with and evolve mythic structures, often breaking neurotypical conventions with nonlinear sequencing, immersive sensory detail, and dense symbolism. We also highlight the creative strengths (originality, deep internal logic, innovative metaphor) that neurodivergent minds bring to storytelling. In addition, a special section examines visual storytelling – especially AI-assisted co-creation – as a new mode of myth-making that many ND creators embrace. Finally, we discuss the representation of neurodivergent characters in literature and media, along with best practices for authenticity and inclusion.
Myths and archetypal stories resonate across humanity, and neurodivergent people are no exception. As the mythologist Joseph Campbell observed, humans “need myths” to understand themselves and their world. Carl Jung similarly argued that archetypes form part of a collective unconscious, giving rise to recurring mythological motifs in our stories. Neurodivergent storytellers both connect with these universal patterns and creatively transform them to suit their own inner worlds. Researchers have noted that autistic individuals, for example, may relate to common myths or create personal mythologies to share their inner experiences. In other words, an autistic author might draw on well-known archetypes – hero, outcast, trickster, etc. – but infuse them with new meaning reflective of autistic life. This raises fascinating questions (posed in one 2021 paper) about whether there could even be a kind of “collective unconscious” specific to autism, given shared experiences among autistic people.
Neurodivergent creators often find personal resonance in mythic tales. A striking example is the legacy of Hans Christian Andersen. Andersen’s fairy tales – The Ugly Duckling, The Little Mermaid, The Princess and the Pea, The Emperor’s New Clothes – are interpreted by some scholars as imbued with Andersen’s own autistic traits and feelings. In fact, researchers have argued that Andersen (who predated clinical terms for autism) used storytelling to describe the autistic experience of being misunderstood and mistreated, long before the concept of “neurodivergence” existed. His characters often embody archetypes that align with neurodivergent struggles and strengths: the Little Mermaid gives up her true voice to fit in (echoing the masking many autistic people do); the Ugly Duckling is ostracized for being different until his true identity (a swan) is revealed; the Princess’s extreme sensitivity to a pea under twenty mattresses reframes sensory intensity as proof of nobility rather than a flaw; and the child in The Emperor’s New Clothes speaks blunt truth that adults refuse to see, mirroring autistic literal honesty piercing through social façades. These examples show how classical mythic motifs can be reinterpreted through a neurodivergent lens, giving new depth to archetypes like the outsider-turned-hero or the truth-telling fool.
Jungian psychological theory provides a useful framework for understanding such storytelling. Jung’s idea of archetypes suggests that themes like the Hero, the Explorer, the Wise Fool, or the Artist are psychological patterns that we unconsciously recognize. Interestingly, some modern theorists have mapped neurodivergent profiles onto these archetypal roles to highlight ND strengths. For instance, one Jungian-inspired perspective aligns ADHD with the Explorer archetype (always seeking novelty and adventure), autism with the Scientist archetype (logical, analytical truth-seeking), bipolar disorder with the Artist archetype (creative highs and lows), and schizophrenia with the Mystic/Shaman (journeying between realities). While somewhat simplistic, this alignment underscores that neurodiversity can be seen as a set of heroic archetypes rather than merely clinical labels. It provides an “empowering narrative” that reframes neurodivergent traits as mythic strengths – the ADHD “Explorer’s” restless quest for new experiences, or the autistic “Scientist’s” intense focus and insight. Neurodivergent storytellers themselves often gravitate to certain archetypal themes: many autistic writers identify with the honest truth-teller or wise outsider archetype (as in The Emperor’s New Clothes child), whereas ADHD creatives might embody the adventurer or trickster energy, reveling in spontaneous journeys and novel ideas. Crucially, ND creators are not confined to existing archetypes – they invent new mythic figures and narratives born of their own experiences, expanding the archetypal library for all of us.
It’s also worth noting that some neurodivergent people consciously use mythic structures to make sense of their real lives. The Hero’s Journey framework, with its cycle of departure, initiation, and return, has been adopted by ND individuals as a metaphor for personal growth and self-acceptance. For example, an autistic+ADHD adult described their late-diagnosis self-discovery as fitting the Hero’s Journey: beginning in the “ordinary world” of neurotypical expectations, receiving a “call to adventure” upon learning about autism/ADHD, initially refusing the call (denial), then meeting mentors and facing challenges before ultimately accepting their neurodivergent identity and “returning” with new wisdom. They even adapted each stage of Campbell’s monomyth to the neurodivergence discovery process. This illustrates how deeply mythic structure can resonate with ND storytellers – not only in the tales they create on paper, but in the narratives they construct about their own lives.
One of the most intriguing aspects of neurodivergent storytelling is how it can deviate from neurotypical narrative conventions. Many neurotypical stories (especially in Western tradition) follow a familiar linear arc – a clear beginning, middle, and end, rising and falling action, characters motivated by easily understood goals, etc. Neurodivergent authors, in contrast, often forge different paths in how they sequence events, immerse in detail, or layer meaning. These differences aren’t deficiencies; rather, they reflect distinct cognitive styles and ways of experiencing the world.
A common observation is that traditional plot structure may not come naturally to some autistic writers. Autistic author Nishanth Peters remarks that he and others “have unique ways of communicating that have nothing to do with a three act structure and rising and falling tension”. In his own fiction, Peters finds that storytelling is “very dense and meaning-based, along with an emphasis on imagery,” and that events in the narrative “just sort of happen” in sequence without the kind of overt cause-and-effect motivation that most neurotypical stories insist upon. In other words, an autistic-written story might read as a series of vividly rendered moments or experiences, less driven by plot mechanics and more by an internal logic or theme. This doesn’t mean such stories are incoherent; rather, they often follow a different kind of coherence – perhaps a sensory or conceptual logic in place of conventional drama. Peters notes that while he values craft and has learned how to make his style work for readers, he ultimately trusts that “experientially writing the things I want to write” yields better results than trying to force his narrative into a standard mold. This exemplifies the neurodivergent confidence in nonstandard form: ND writers may break rules of pacing or chronology to better capture the truth as they see it.
Neurodivergent storytellers also tend to leverage strengths like sensory acuity and pattern-recognition in their narrative style. Many ND individuals experience the world with heightened or atypical sensory processing – for example, autistic and ADHD people often report intense sensory sensitivity. This can translate into richly descriptive, immersive prose that pulls the reader into the sensorium of the character. Rather than relying on abstract or generalized descriptions, an autistic writer might zoom in on the texture of details: the exact timbre of a sound, the pattern of light and shadow in a room, the physical sensations of a scene. One autistic poet notes that “a lot of us grapple with the world in tactile ways, engaging with the world in sensory detail, not just in terms of metaphorical devices but on a practical level as well”. Such writing can create a powerful you-are-there effect for the reader, as if experiencing the story through sharpened senses. In the fairy tale context, consider Andersen’s Princess and the Pea: the narrative dwells on the princess’s physical discomfort from a tiny pea under layers of bedding, an embodied detail that mirrors autistic sensory intensity. Neurotypical storytellers might overlook or downplay that kind of minutiae, but ND storytellers often center the sensory as a core part of the narrative experience. This focus on sensory immersion not only makes the story vivid, it can also serve symbolic purposes (e.g. conveying a character’s emotional state through the environment’s feel).
Another hallmark of neurodivergent narrative is what one might call symbolic density – a high concentration of metaphor, allegory, or encoded meaning woven into the story. Far from the outdated stereotype that autistic people “don’t understand metaphor,” research shows that autistic individuals are often exceptionally adept at creating metaphors. In one study, autistic adults matched non-autistic adults in recognizing familiar metaphors, but actually generated more creative novel metaphors on their own. Similarly, autistic youth have been found to produce a greater quantity of original metaphors compared to neurotypical peers. This knack for metaphorical thinking means ND writers frequently imbue their narratives with multiple layers of meaning – objects, characters, or events may stand for much more than their surface appearance. As discussed, Andersen’s stories are basically extended metaphors for autistic social experience. More modern examples include science fiction and fantasy by neurodivergent authors that use alien cultures or magical powers as allegories for neurodiversity. The density of symbols in ND storytelling can be striking: familiar mythic archetypes might be subverted or merged with personal symbols (for instance, an ADHD author could depict the trickster god Mercury as a personification of their racing thoughts, or an autistic writer might create a fantasy world where every detail follows an intricate logic symbolic of their own routines). The result is often stories that invite deeper decoding and reward multiple readings.
Finally, neurodivergent narratives may experiment with nonlinear or unconventional structures more readily. While not every ND storyteller eschews linearity (some actually prefer straightforward chronology), there is a notable pattern of ND authors playing with form – possibly due to divergent thinking and less adherence to literary conventions. For example, ADHD writers might construct stories in disjointed episodes or jump between plotlines, reflecting the quicksilver attention shifts and abundant ideas characteristic of ADHD. An ADHD novelist describes having “so many ideas that it was hard to settle on one story line” until an idea grabbed her and she hyperfocused on it. That initial scattering of ideas could manifest as a narrative with many threads or imaginative asides before coalescing. Even when the final story is edited into a coherent form, it might retain a sense of unpredictable, lively pacing – a kind of controlled chaos that differs from the tight, singular focus of a typical plot. Similarly, dyslexic storytellers, who often think in pictures and broad concepts, might organize a tale more visually or thematically rather than in a strict sequence of events. The neurodivergent tolerance for ambiguity and complexity can lead to narratives that are multi-layered, circular, or fragmented in form – sometimes mirroring the nonlinear way memory and perception work. In short, ND creators expand the possibilities of narrative structure, showing that a hero’s journey doesn’t have to march from Point A to B to C; it might spiral, branch, or dive inward in ways that ultimately feel truer to neurodivergent life experience.