Why I Wrote a Disabled Serial Killer

Why I Wrote a Disabled Serial Killer

by Elle Mitchell

Over the past few years, I’ve seen more disabled characters in fiction. What I haven’t seen is a lot of disabled people. As a woman with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and multiple other invisible illnesses, I find that troubling. Often, disability is used to bolster other characters, to sway readers’ emotions. Do they treat the disabled well? Are they willing to love them despite their disabilities? 

Those stories must be told. But so do stories about disabled people just existing, not being used for others. People like me live with or without the presence of someone else being involved, so where is that in fiction?

Though many inclusivity trends and tropes have come and gone, I still crave to be seen as human, flawed, boring, horrible, funny, mean, smart. I crave disabled characters that are interesting for something other than their disability. I crave people.

And so, I wrote Another Elizabeth.

In short, Elizabeth has wanted to kill since she was a young child but struggled with the idea of getting caught. When her Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS—a genetic connective tissue disorder) starts catching up with her, she decides it’s now or never. Thus ensues a first-person serial killer novel filled with dark humor.

There are some scenes dealing with Elizabeth’s body that might be tough to read, but I didn’t shy away because it’s the reality of hEDS. This is another thing often glossed over. Disabled characters may have pain or chapped lips, greasy hair or be in a wheelchair, but the visceral moments in their lives aren’t in black and white. 

While planning my marketing for this book, I shared a synopsis on a Facebook group to ask for opinions.

First, someone asked me a question that feels like the antithesis of why I wanted to write this in the first place: “Can you think about explaining why the woman with a disability wants to kill?”

That was followed by the comment, “I do not want to know that the woman is disabled at this stage.”

I’m pretty sure I cackled.

No one would ask for an explanation in other circumstances. And to be told to set aside that she’s disabled is shocking. It’s clear the book world isn’t used to the idea of people like Elizabeth, people like me, being simply human. 

It begs the question: are we allowed to be?

Every personality comes in every shape, size, gender, race, ability, etc. Monsters are no exception. I wanted to show that.

Though I’m amazing, no one should make a movie about how inspirational I am. Yet, fiction would tell you I should motivate you to be better. Look at the disabled woman getting out of bed in chronic pain, writing a book while her shoulder dislocates. Be inspired.

Though I’m married to a kind and wonderful man, his loving me isn’t commendable. I am not a pity case, and he shouldn’t be put on a pedestal because he carries me to bed some days.

Though I don’t answer texts in any consistent time frame, being my friend isn’t more of a chore than to be anyone else’s. The difference is my excuse isn’t busy so much as unable.

So I made Elizabeth Dauphine like me and millions of other people. She just happens to be disabled. Even if she had a different chronic illness, it wouldn’t change who she is, just how her body works. Mindsets may change, to be sure. That doesn’t mean she no longer has a desire to kill.

Disability is complex and nuanced. People with disabilities don’t fall into two camps; they are as varied as the syndromes, disorders, and illnesses themselves.

It sounds self-important to say that books like Another Elizabeth need to be written. But they do. It’s not about me or my book in particular, it’s about the opinion and view of the population at large. Elizabeth’s disability defines her as much as being able to walk up two flights of stairs does for an able-bodied person. It doesn’t. Her choices do.

If writing a disabled serial killer sparks even one conversation about disability and personality, how we’re seen and unseen, I feel I’ve done my job. But if all you do is enjoy Elizabeth’s journey, I’m happy with that too.

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ANOTHER ELIZABETH

Another Elizabeth is a gripping literary, psychological horror novel that readers will sink their teeth into. Fans of dark humor and challenging fiction will be thrilled to delve into the mind of a deeply flawed disabled woman with a desire to kill.

Elizabeth’s life is taking a turn.
She has three jobs, a boyfriend that loves her too much, and a recent diagnosis of Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. She’s coming apart at the seams. Now all she cares about is keeping her promise to her younger self before her body fails her—kill without getting caught.
Will she physically be able to satisfy her urge while maintaining her carefully built façade of normalcy? And if so, will she be able to stop with just one victim?

*This is a dark book with many graphic situations. There is no sexual assault or rape. No animals are tortured or die.

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