The greatest story ever told, the greatest show on Earth, the greatest fantasy ever brought to life isn't in a book, on a screen, or reenacted on a stage. It's lived moment-to-moment, day-to-day, parent-to-child.
One year ago today, I became a father.
No matter how factual and simple I make that sentence, no matter how much I try to strip it down of fluff and distill it to its most basic form, it still absolutely boggles my mind. I knew I always wanted kids, but until you actually have one, you have no idea how it actually changes you. You know it will change you--the birth of your first child is one of the few moments in your life that you know, in real time, will change you forever--but how? In what ways? And--to you as a reader--how has that affected me as an author?
There are the obvious ways that everyone knows about. Sleep is a privilege in the first four months if you're lucky, indefinitely if you're not; you develop hearing superpowers for your child's cries, regardless of the time; and everything becomes worth celebrating, from the first solid food (avocados in our case) to the first word ("outside" of all words). But there are some ways that perhaps are unique to us, perhaps are obvious to other parents but not to adults without kids, or perhaps are obvious to everyone. Either way, these are the most noticeable ways--to me--that having my first child changed me as a person and a professional author.
Time Prioritization
I put this as "time management" at first, but that's not really accurate. Management suggests I got better at scheduling everything I was doing, slotting things in their place, etc. That's not really accurate. I can't do everything I used to, plain and simple.
What is accurate to say, however, is how acute my sense of prioritization has become and how surprisingly easy it has made certain decisions. Before, I would spend way more time than I should debating how much I wanted to let myself drink if I went out with friends before; now, it's not even a debate, since if I want to greet my child when they wakes up, I had better not be hungover. Questions about if I wanted to sign up for that race in Pennsylvania or take that impromptu trip to Spain are no longer relevant; why would I travel for adventure when the greatest story of my life is unfolding each and every day before my very eyes?
Even in the day-to-day life, this has become pronounced. I like to glibly say that my life revolves around three F's--family, fantasy, and fitness, with the latter two changing in some order but never superseding the first for more than a couple hours. I've watched the least amount of sports in my life in the past year and have stopped setting aside specific windows to watch YouTube videos; unless my child is asleep and I've caught up on work and fitness (very rare), it's not even a debate if I should watch Duke basketball, a video about the history of Lord of the Rings, or my child play with their stuffed animals.
What's surprised me most about all of this is how easy this prioritization has felt. College sports and NFL playoff games used to be appointment viewing, and I used to challenge myself to cross the ocean at least twice a year for a trip somewhere new. But there's been no real struggle with sacrificing these opportunities, no yearning for the past. Perhaps this is because I was fortunate enough to prioritize experiences and travel in my twenties and early thirties, but I was still squeezing a lot in while my wife was pregnant.
Simply put, I have a priority so important now, everything else isn't just secondary, it's barely a consideration. That's not to say I will never travel or never watch Duke basketball. I'm well aware March Madness is coming up, and I'll be traveling to Europe twice this year for major races. But if the needs of my child become pressing, there won't even be a first thought on what should take priority.
Awe
Perhaps the most relevant to my current work is the amazement my child has at the smallest of matters. The sight of a piece of mulch on the playground slide is cause for a ten-minute analysis full of laughter and smiles; staring out the window is a must each afternoon. Seeing this has stirred me to think about not just how I view the world, but how I want to present the worlds I create.
There's not much to do in presenting the real world to my child. It's there, it's on them to interact and observe it, and while obviously there are safer places than others, by and large I just have to put them down and let them see everything. But what about in novels? How do you see Muspar, a land of volcanoes and ash? Can you envision Ceres, a land of sprawling forests and storms easily? Do you feel a sense of awe when reading about the vast desert of Typhus?
I find this isn't just true of places but also of people. My child is almost embarrassingly friendly; they will wave to a complete stranger with headphones and sunglasses on as eagerly as they will another dog. What do they notice of that person? How do they greet them? The same questions pop through my mind when I'm describing Noel Chryss, Gerald Taloc, Shadow, or even the Bonded animals in my books.
Fantasy is about escapism, and the best forms of escapism invoke a serious sense of awe. Thanks to my child, I have that and see that in spades now.
Fortune
I think it's really hard to appreciate how lucky most of us reading this blog are. We have internet; we have enough free time to read a small-time author's ramblings; and we have enough food to nourish us and a bed to rest our head on. Maybe money is a little tight, maybe we just went through a rough breakup, but having our basic needs met is at worst reasonably covered and at best a secondary thought. And yet, when you have your own problems and challenges to deal with, it can be difficult to see that. You have your blessings, yes, but you have your curses, and no one is more acquainted with them than you.
But boy, seeing what my child gets to experiences makes me truly appreciate how lucky I and we as a family are.
I've never had to worry about my child's food intake. I've never had to worry about putting them in an unsafe sleeping arrangement. I've never had to worry about crime outside my front door, one porch pirating incident aside. My wife and I don't have to worry about a violent or jealous ex coming through the front door at night.
But perhaps most of all, I've never had to worry I'm not getting enough time with my child.
I work from home, so if I want to, I can say hi to them at any point. I don't travel for work, so outside of maybe five or so weekends in the past year, I've always been home to spend time with them. Thanks to multiple 24-hour events, I know how to pace myself and maintain emotional equilibrium on a lack of sleep, so it doesn't stress me out to see my fussy child at 3 a.m.
It's been a blessing to realize that however much I wish I had more money, I really couldn't have more time to share with my child. I can always make more money when they start school or go to summer camps; I can never get the time back that I have now. That might be the single greatest fortune of my life, never mind the past year.
***
The toughest part about writing this post has been the realization that I can only tell half the story, both for reasons of fairness and reality.
It would not be fair to my child to put their name nor even their gender out there (though I will probably slip up at some point). They should have full ownership of their internet presence, and in that regard, I'm not here to tell you who they are. I already worry I've shared too much mentioning their mere existence, but in an effort to be more open about who I am as a person, I think this is reasonable.
But even if I didn't care about that, even if I wanted my child to be a child star of social media or Hollywood fame, even if I wanted the world to know how amazing my son/daughter is to my writing... I just can't ever fully know their POV. Practically speaking, they can't explain it right now; they can barely say "Dada" let alone a full sentence. But part of this parenting journey is realizing that the culture they grow up in, the schooling they grow up in, the worldview and friends and videos that they watch... it's all not nearly in as control as I want it to be.
(And bluntly said, having been raised in a strict Catholic home, I can attest very strongly that the more forcefully something gets pushed onto a kid, the more likely outright rebellion and resentment becomes.)
Part of the challenge I and all parents face is dealing with this push-and-pull and imbalance of control versus freedom, household culture versus the broader culture, and how my lived experiences have shaped my worldview versus how my child's will. I'll be curious to see years from now how my child will feel about my work, about the world at large, and creativity in general. Maybe creativity for them will be writing, or maybe it will be biology. Maybe it will be something I can't even fathom.
But that's for the future.
Today, for the present, I can say I've gotten the best year of my life so far.
And however tough some moments might have been, the love and joy make it so rewarding, I don't ever question if it was worthwhile.