Writing a book is no easy feat. An idea is great, but how do you bring it to life
How do you capture everything you want to say? How do you stay within your word count? Why did we do it and what was the experience like?
For this month’s blog, we’re sharing some insider scoop from writing Unlearning Ableism: The No‑Nonsense Guide to Understanding Disability and Unlearning Ableism. Strap in, buckle up, and let us take you on the journey.
We knew early in our friendship that we wanted to write a book, something lasting, a handbook, a legacy, a piece of us on people’s shelves. What we didn’t expect was that wanting to write a book and actually writing one would be far harder than we imagined.
We wanted to write about ableism, the very thing each of us had struggled with throughout our lives. For years, we lacked the words to articulate it or the understanding to recognise that what we were experiencing was, in fact, ableism. We wanted to create something that anyone, regardless of age, condition, or whether they were Disabled or yet to become Disabled, could use to understand how society disables and how ableism oppresses. It was always going to be a mammoth task, but we are no strangers to difficult things.
Our why
We wrote this book because we know what it feels like to navigate a society not designed for you. A society where you’re either “inspirational” for doing the bare minimum or pitied simply for existing as a Disabled person.
This book is our weapon against that narrative. Words have power, and to unlearn ableism, we must first have open, honest conversations about what it means to be Disabled by society. Conversations that can feel uncomfortable at first, but with guidance and openness and a dash of willingness to unlearn, it can be a catalyst for change, long-lasting change with impact.
We wrote this book for the Disabled children we once were, the struggling teenagers, and every Disabled person who has ever felt like they were the problem. We wrote it because there is no handbook for being Disabled, no right or wrong way to experience it. We wrote it so people have something to fall back on when they feel exhausted, when they feel less than, when they need someone to say: you are not the problem.
This book is a lifetime of our experiences, the things we wanted to say, the things we thought we shouldn’t say.
Spread across fifteen chapters, it touches on different areas of society. It’s not everything we wanted to say, that’s for future books, but it is a start.
A starting place for unlearning, for change, for Disabled and non‑Disabled people alike to truly understand what it means to be Disabled by society and how to take action. A book which anyone can pick up, unlearn, learn and start new conversations and learn how to do better, without feeling like they are being spoken down to. We wanted to create something that would have ripple effects and better the lives of younger us and everyone like us, Disabled people .
Working Together: When one person writes, it’s easy to follow your own train of thought, your own tone, your preferred language. With two people, you have to find balance, compromise, and a unified way of communicating.
At first, we wrote each chapter together, word by word. It wasn’t efficient, changes piled up, and we found ourselves reading the same passages over and over. Luckily, Celia and Jamie share a similar tone, even if there are some Celia‑isms and Jamie‑isms scattered throughout, we also have our own expertise and our own knowledge of areas, so we decided let’s work smarter.
So we took a chapter each, passed it back and fourth, each of us writing a chapter, and passing it back to the other to tweak, add comments and ensuring what we both wanted to say was captured. It became a bit like pass the parcel, with one writing and sharing and then passing back to the other. We worked hard to use consistent language, recognising the need for humour, pauses, and above all ensuring the message of Unlearning Ableism was not split into “his” and “hers” but truly ours.
With fifteen chapters and deadlines looming, we shifted to writing the chapters we were most passionate about, then swapping them for the other to edit, correct typos, and add flair. Suddenly the pages filled, the word count rose, and our confidence grew.
We found our rhythm. We found our pace, we found a way that worked for both of us.
Making the writing process work for us
No one likes deadlines. They make you second‑guess yourself; they leave you wondering if you’ve done enough. But with any publisher, deadlines are part of the process.
We kept a shared document to track what needed doing, who was doing it, and when. Not every deadline was achievable. As Disabled writers, what a non‑Disabled or neurotypical person might complete in a week, we don’t always have the energy or spoons to achieve. We asked for extensions, and thankfully our publisher understood. They recognised we were working Disability‑smart, and that extra time was not a failure but an adjustment, an accommodation.
Writing a book which is your everyday experience can be difficult, there is so much you want to say, so much you want to share, but with word counts you have to find the balance of not overwhelming a reader and not allowing yourself to go way above your word count. Clearly, we did go over the word count multiple times. Celia and Jamie are talkers, and it took a lot of reworks, a lot of tweaks and some work with our publishers to condense the word count. Initially this was meant to be around 70k-80k but at one point the submission was over 125k words, a lot more than which was allowed.
But we made it work and we made sure that the things we cropped we saved for later, whilst maintaining our messaging and want from each chapter.
Our Contributors
We knew from the start we couldn’t write this book alone. No one person can speak for the entirety of the Disabled community. We wanted two to three contributors for each of our fifteen chapters, each bringing diverse lived experience.
Thankfully, our advocacy journey has connected us with incredible friends whose work has touched and inspired us, and who share our vision of an inclusive, anti‑ableist society. We reached out, and while not everyone could take part, which we respected, we still worked with thirty‑six fabulous contributors.
Their voices span the globe, each with unique perspectives, collaborating to bring Unlearning Ableism to life. To those thirty‑six amazing contributors: thank you. Without you, we would just be two people shouting into the abyss. With you, we are a community.
If you have met one Disabled person you have met one person and we hope our contributors input highlights and supports our own words, we hope they messages resonate and amplify the message of unlearning ableism.
Foreword
For the foreword, we wanted someone who is actively dismantling the systems we write about. Someone making waves, a leader through and through. We asked the incredible Keely‑Cat Wells.
Keely has taken the world by storm with fierce advocacy, unwavering truth, and passion to dismantle disabling systems. When she agreed, we could hardly believe it. A global superstar of our community, supporting our dream and our book, it meant everything.
Keely is a force of change and having her read the book before anyone else and write such a glowing forward for Unlearning Ableism is a moment of sheer pride and utter excitement.
What We Learnt
We learnt that writing a book is not just about words on a page, it is about stamina, compromise, and resilience.
We learnt that deadlines are not neutral, they are built for neurotypical, non‑Disabled writers, and we had to push back, ask for extensions, and model what Disability‑smart working really looks like.
We learnt that collaboration is messy. Two voices can clash, overlap, and contradict, but when you strip it back, compromise, and sharpen the message, the result is stronger than either voice alone. It also helps when your co author is your bestie and business partner
We learnt that contributors are the heartbeat of a book like this. Thirty‑six Disabled voices reminded us that no one person can speak for the community, and that collective storytelling is the antidote to ableism.
We learnt that humour matters. Without it, the weight of ableism would crush the page. With it, readers can breathe, laugh, and still take action.
We learnt that every rewrite was worth it. Every tantrum sharpened the truth. Every delay reminded us that Disabled writers are not the problem, inaccessible systems are.
And we learnt that a book is never just a book. It is a demand, a toolkit, a rallying cry. Unlearning Ableism is not the end of the journey; it is the start.
Finally Our Hopes
We hope this book sparks conversation. We hope it challenges assumptions. We hope it builds bridges.
But more than that, we hope it rattles cages. We hope it makes people uncomfortable enough to question the systems they’ve been complicit in. We hope it forces organisations to stop hiding behind glossy DEI statements and start dismantling the barriers they’ve built.
We hope Disabled people see themselves in these pages — not as inspiration, not as pity, but as powerful, complex, unapologetic human beings. We hope non‑Disabled readers stop asking “what’s wrong with you?” and start asking “what’s wrong with the systems that disable you?”
We hope this book becomes a toolkit, a weapon, a rallying cry. A starting point for those who are ready to unlearn ableism and take action, not just nod along.
And we hope that when the wrapping comes off, readers understand this isn’t just a book launch. It’s a demand. A demand for accountability, for accessibility, for justice.
Because the horrors of ableism will not disappear until we name them, challenge them, and rebuild the systems that created them. And we are not waiting for permission…
Pre order your copy from our Linktree!
