PRESS KIT
Author bio
Nicki Isaacs is a wife, mum, advocate, writer, and proudly Cornish woman who’s never been afraid to call it how she sees it. Blunt, loyal, stubborn (in the best way), and completely No Filter, she shares the honest, raw reality of raising a neurodivergent child in a world that refuses to bend — with plenty of humour along the way.
Inspired (and infuriated) by the eye rolls and judgment faced by families like hers, Nicki wrote No Filter – Raising a Neurodivergent Child When the World Won’t Bend to lift the lid on what life is really like behind closed doors. Her debut book is an unflinching but hilarious glimpse into family life as a fierce parent advocate, balancing laughter and heartbreak with every page.
Nicki is also the founder of Kernow Support Hub, running parent carer support groups across Cornwall, where she continues to fight for understanding, inclusion, and better systems for families like hers. When she’s not writing or advocating, you’ll find her cheering on her son’s rugby team, dancing at music festivals, or squeezing in travel adventures whenever life allows — because who needs hobbies when you’ve got a family, a cause, and a to-do list that never ends?
No Filter is her first book, with more unapologetic, no-fluff titles coming soon, covering topics from school refusal to advocacy and even menopause — all told with her trademark honesty and wit.
Author bio
Nicki Isaacs is a wife, mum, advocate, writer, and proudly Cornish woman who’s never been afraid to call it how she sees it. Blunt, loyal, stubborn (in the best way), and completely No Filter, she shares the honest, raw reality of raising a neurodivergent child in a world that refuses to bend — with plenty of humour along the way.
Inspired (and infuriated) by the eye rolls and judgment faced by families like hers, Nicki wrote No Filter – Raising a Neurodivergent Child When the World Won’t Bend to lift the lid on what life is really like behind closed doors. Her debut book is an unflinching but hilarious glimpse into family life as a fierce parent advocate, balancing laughter and heartbreak with every page.
Nicki is also the founder of Kernow Support Hub, running parent carer support groups across Cornwall, where she continues to fight for understanding, inclusion, and better systems for families like hers. When she’s not writing or advocating, you’ll find her cheering on her son’s rugby team, dancing at music festivals, or squeezing in travel adventures whenever life allows — because who needs hobbies when you’ve got a family, a cause, and a to-do list that never ends?
No Filter is her first book, with more unapologetic, no-fluff titles coming soon, covering topics from school refusal to advocacy and even menopause — all told with her trademark honesty and wit.
Sample chapter
“The eye rolls”
You know that look. The one that says, “You’re exaggerating”, “It’s not that bad”, or worse, “You’re just making excuses.” It’s the eye roll. And let me tell you, if eye rolls generated electricity, the world would be running on neurodivergent families by now.
The teacher does it when I explain Moo’s sensory overwhelm. The GP does it when I ask for yet another referral. Even the woman in the supermarket queue gives me a side glance when Moo’s rocking back and forth, whispering to herself as we wait.
What they don’t see is that by the time we’ve reached that checkout, I’ve already fought ten invisible battles that morning: the meltdown about the socks being “wrong,” the gentle negotiations to swap the itchy school jumper for a hoodie, the careful avoidance of the automatic hand dryers in the loo, the tactical snack bag packed to avoid public sensory explosions.
But sure — let’s pretend I’m being dramatic.
I didn’t write No Filter because I wanted sympathy. I wrote it because I was sick of the eye rolls. Sick of the people who think our lives are some exaggerated drama for attention. Sick of the system that makes us bend, bend, bend — until we break.
You know what else they don’t see? The beauty. The quiet, stunning moments that take your breath away. Like when Moo sits beside me, tired but content after a day that would flatten most adults, and whispers, “I did my best, Mum.” And I know — she really, really did.
They don’t see how fiercely we love, or how hard we’ve learned to fight, or how many times we’ve had to rebuild from pieces.
So next time someone rolls their eyes? Let them. Because this book — this life — isn’t for them. It’s for the families who are too busy holding it together to care who’s watching.
No filter. Just truth. And maybe a few swear words along the way.