The (Slightly) Unexpected Part of Motherhood

Growing up as part of a big family, I had few illusions about the difficulty of parenting when my husband and I became parents nearly four years ago.  I knew there would be plenty of ups and downs.  Sleepless nights countered with days of discovery and laughter.  Power struggles, boo boos, and broken hearts coupled with hugs, success stories, and new experiences.  I even knew that the job would bring a new definition to the word anxiety for me, but I was not prepared for the extent it would reach in a short period of time.

Now I am usually convinced that I am totally screwing something up, and overanalyze nearly every decision.  If we spend several days in a row indoors or running errands, I worry that he isn’t getting enough exercise.  I wonder if his diet can truly be described as varied when there are only about five types of fruits and vegetables that he will eat.  I even worry about our decision to send him to preschool, even though we researched it thoroughly, the teachers are wonderful, and he absolutely loves it.  Sometimes I worry that we are spoiling him, while others I think I expect too much from him too soon.  I wonder if he gets enough sleep at night or if he is making friends at school.

In the end, there are no real answers to my questions.  With the exception of nutritional requirements, there are no quantifiable measures of parenting success.  For now, I must console myself that the majority of the time he is happy, independent, and kind.  He is equally happy learning in the classroom as he is running and climbing on the playground.  Once in a while, we even convince him to try new things.  I worry about these things because I care, and that probably is half the battle when it comes to the things he needs from me.  For the rest, I pray for guidance and forgiveness, because I can never be the ‘perfect’ mother, whatever that is.

Review of 'Half a King' by Joe Abercrombie

This book came so highly recommended by well known fantasy authors, including Robin Hobb and George Martin, that I almost had to read it when the Kindle add showed up in my inbox.  I am happy to report that this particular book lived up to the hype.  I should mention that this novel is YA, unlike Abercrombie’s previous works.  Half a King, however, should appeal to older readers as well.

In Half a King, Joe Abercrombie takes the traditional fantasy plot line of the outcast, rightful king and makes it all his own.  Prince Yarvi is not a traditional hero, but his dogged determination and commitment to the greater good won me over despite his flaws.  I enjoyed following along as he learns to play to his strengths and accept himself, despite his birth defect meaning he will never fit the description of his culture’s ideal.  The novel is well written, containing interesting cultures, multi-dimensional characters that drive the plot, and packed with adventure.

Prince Yarvi has known from a very young age that he can never live up to his father’s or, for that matter, entire people’s expectations.  Born with a disfigured hand, he cannot serve as a warrior and is thereby nearly useless in his vikingesque society.  Instead, he throws himself fully  into his training as a minister.  When his father and older brother are murdered, however, Yarvi is thrust back into the old life as the rightful king.  Of course, more than a few refuse to accept ‘half a man’ as king.  Betrayed, Yarvi soon finds himself sold into slavery, nearly crushed under the weight of his oath to avenge his father and brother.  A daring escape attempt unites Yarvi with an unlikely set of fellow slaves.  Captivated by his compelling story, the group embarks on a seemingly impossible mission of redemption and revenge.

Without giving too much away, I will only say that the twists at the end caught me by surprise (and are quite possibly why George Martin felt it worthy of recommendation).
'Half a King' on Amazon

Moving On

For weeks I have been excited about the idea of writing a short story to go along with my newly completed fantasy novel, The Terror Within.  I envisioned a sort of prequel that told the story of how one of my main characters, Alyssiana, came to find her family.  It would have begun with her exile from the group that raised her and chronicled her journey south toward her homeland.  Her trip would have culminated in confrontation with a group of exiles intent upon using her abilities for their own political and spiritual gain.

Now, however, we come to the wrench in the works.  The story I have described above can only take place inside a completely different world.  The societies in my novel either fear or already possess Alyssiana’s power.  Hence, no group would even consider using her powers for political gain.  In addition, the situation I described above works better when the rules of magic are different than those I laid out in The Terror Within.  Alyssiana may not fully understand her power at the point this story would take place, but she is, at least partly, in control of it.  In my short story idea, however, I think the plot works much better when the magic is something as natural for the wielder as breathing and something which they cannot control without training.

At first, I was disappointed with this realization, and I have spent several weeks trying to force the short story plot to fit into the confines of the reality in The Terror Within.  Maybe I was nervous to leave it behind, since I have not written about anything unrelated to my novel in the last 12 years.  The story refuses to bend, however, and I find myself excited to take on the venture of creating a new world and new characters, if only in the confines of a short story.  Oddly, my enthusiasm was peaked by the odd little crustaceans in the photo on the left.  My family and I were walking along a boardwalk in Cedar Key when I saw their nervous exodus down the sand, and the opening scene just popped into my head.  I may yet write a prequel for The Terror Within, but for now I will immerse myself in a marshy coastal land where magic has nearly disappeared and salvation and glory are not what they seem.