Balancing a Busy, Full-Time Writing Career with Fatherhood Is More Challenging Than I Ever Expected

Being a present, hands-on dad and a productive writer has forced me to take stock of what truly matters to me

Mystery, thriller, and comic book author Alex Segura on balancing being a full-time writer with the reality of fatherhood; photo by Irina Peschan Photography

When I first dreamt of becoming a writer, a full-time writer who had no other responsibilities aside from sitting in front of my keyboard, I imagined a lot of things—lavish parties, packed book readings, signing stacks of books to winding lines of adoring fans. Fulfilling the dream of my work connecting with readers and experiencing their joy was high up on my list of life goals, and is now one of the things I cherish most about this job. It makes the job worth the effort—the long hours and nights spent toiling away on a sentence, the stress of deadlines and editorial notes, everything. But being a writer wasn’t my biggest dream.

You’re probably wondering how that’s even possible, but it’s true. While I always fantasized and then started working toward becoming a writer—first as a journalist, then a publicist, then a side-hustle writer, and now a full-time writer for three years there was something else I always wanted to be, and something that sits above “writer” in my mental CV:

Dad.

Now, don’t roll your eyes. I’m sure this sounds trite and a bit like a Hallmark movie—but it’s true. I’ve wanted to be a dad since I was a teenager. To be present for my kids, and to provide them with the security and comfort that I didn’t always have in my own childhood. I’m a firm believer in the idea that, sometimes, the most important thing you can do is show up. Be present.

I think about a moment that came up about six or seven months ago, maybe more, as I was rushing from picking up my eight-year-old son from second grade. We started zooming to the next town over to get my five-year-old daughter from her pre-K class. My son asked why we were stressing and going so fast, and I explained to him that I never want him—or her—to feel forgotten, or feel like there isn’t someone there to get them or be there for them. It’s a feeling that most of us have experienced at some point, but it’s a painful one to feel as a kid—that sense of the unknown, of falling without a net to catch you.

I tried to keep it together as he responded to my out-of-breath insight.

“I don’t think we feel like that. Like you’re not going to show up. We know you and mommy are coming to get us.”

It’s an irrational fear or concern, I get it. Even if I were a few minutes late (and hey, every parent has been late), my kids wouldn’t revolt and become traumatized. Parenting is a game of averages; you do your best as much as you can and hope that your kids see that as the norm. But I’ve also seen the other side of that average as a kid. I know it hurts—and I’d never want my kids to experience that. Nothing matters more to me than being there for my family. Trying to strive for that means I have to sacrifice some of the perks that come with being pretty good at my job.

Now, I hate to use the terms “sacrifice” or “FOMO,” but they’re the closest to what parents-who-are-also-busy-authors feel when they see the posts on social media, or the invites and messages in their emails. You know the ones I’m talking about. Book tours. Other authors’ events. Dinners. Conferences. Meet-ups or clubs. I do my fair share of events, particularly local ones and some big conferences—hell, I’m in the process of prepping for book tour as we speak, and eternally grateful for a supportive and understanding partner.

But the reality is this: It’s hard for authors with kids to also be present and active in their professional spaces, especially if you’re really being a parent, as opposed to offloading everything on your partner and just assuming that’s the split you’ve worked out. As much as I’d like to go to every launch party, book signing, or mixer, I just can’t. The stuff I do manage to go to has to be negotiated, because I want my partner to feel like she’s able to do things she wants to do as well.

I never want to feel like our dynamic is one-sided, and just because my job is more public-facing and involves more socializing doesn’t mean I should automatically get to do more outside the house. It’s a constant state of coordinating, and it’s something I’m not particularly great at, but always trying to improve. Talking is the key, which is hard for someone like me who isn’t big on confrontation.

The desire to do ALL THE THINGS made for a few hard lessons that resulted in some rushed acceptances and eventual nos. As a hungry new author, you want to accept every invitation for fear of missing the opportunity and, along with it, potential new readers who may follow you throughout your career. But over time, you also learn you just cannot say yes to everything and still be a functional person, partner, and parent. And if I did say yes to it all, not only would I feel completely burnt out, I’d feel like I was shirking that most important job—and the joy that it brings. I want to be the kind of parent that gets to tuck the kids in and listen to them in those moments, minutes before they drift off to sleep, where they share—actually share, and parents IYKYK—their deepest feelings and fears. Or just tell you about their day, when earlier, they’d just replied with “fine” when you asked them how school went.

There was a moment, a few months ago, when my oldest came up behind me as I was typing feverishly at my desk. My wife had picked both kids up from school and they were unloading their backpacks and lunch bags. My son loves comics— especially Spider-Man and other superheroes. He looked over my shoulder as I was working on the script for Spider-Society, a comic book team series that features all the big Spider-Heroes. He saw a few names he recognized, like “Ghost-Spider” and “Miles Morales.”

As I watched him, I witnessed a moment of clear realization. That his dad, who often reads him Spider-Man comics before bed, also gets to sometimes put words into the mouths of the characters he loves. I’ll never forget it. It was truly special. But it was a rare overlap—and not the day-to-day stuff that I think people forget when they recognize that you’re not just a writer, but you have a family to consider. For me, the idea of being an actual parent involves doing the “boring” stuff that never gets talked about. Pickup, meals, going to the park, playing together, groceries, walks, activities, doctors, homework, baths/brushing, vacations and everything else—the routine activities that kids literally thrive on. The stuff they will remember you being there for, even if it seems painfully mundane in the moment.

On the flipside, it’s hard to be present for my kids when there’s so much going on in a “day job” that doesn’t have traditional hours and is also happening concurrently with the insanity that is the news and our country. It’s an endless struggle to not be tethered to my phone when I’m doing the stuff outlined above or staving off existential dread. My heart aches every time one of them asks me a question and I can’t answer immediately because I’m grappling with an “urgent” email or some kind of pressing request.

It's something I think all parents struggle with—that desire to be “up to date” but also being present for these little people we’ve brought into the world. Managing a tantrum-worthy crisis, with screams and tears, while the group chat is exploding about the latest professional drama. Trying to ensure your child that there will be another time to find their favorite toy/have something else to eat/recover from a fall or scrape when the crisis du jour is happening in real-time is a balancing act that I don’t always succeed at traversing.

(As an aside: I should also note this is also not a problem unique to having kids. It’s something authors struggle with in various ways—with a day job, with an ailing partner or parent, with ::waves hands:: the world. There is A LOT going on, and sometimes it feels like balance is just tossed out the window.)

It’s a big reason why, in the pages of my crime novel, Alter Ego, I wanted the protagonist to be a parent. Annie Bustamante is a successful writer, artist, and director—but she’s also a mom to a pre-teen, and strives to balance the two. Creatively, this posed some challenges—you can’t have your character run off and chase a lead without first resolving her childcare situation. More meaningfully, it gave Annie a chance to connect and explain the “why” of her actions to her curious and engaged child. This craft choice gave me the chance to write a different kind of hero, one who I want to see more of in the fiction I read.

I wish there was a universal answer here for how to solve the problem, and how to grapple with the anxiety that comes from leaning a few degrees in either direction—the pang of sadness I feel just being a few hours into a work trip but already missing my kids, or the jolt of anxiety that hits when I know I can’t do an event or professional thing because I’m responsible for the kids that day. The only answer is to strive for balance, but to also know what matters most. As invested as I am in being a successful writer, and as proud as I am of the results of that journey so far, I know, without hesitation what my biggest job is, and I hope my kids recognize it at some point, too.

The truth is, there’s no one, singular solution to getting the work done—along with everything that springs up in relation to “the work”— and doing everything else in a thoughtful, caring way. But there is one phrase I think about a lot, particularly when my phone is buzzing and one of the kids looks at me and asks me to read them a story.

“Be present.”

I’ll never bat a thousand, but keeping my priorities straight and my own experiences in mind helps me keep trying my best.

Alex Segura is the bestselling and award-winning author of Secret Identity, winner of the Los Angeles Times Book Prize for Mystery/Thriller and a New York Times Editor’s Choice and an NPR Best Mystery of the Year. He's also the author of the Pete Fernandez series, as well as the Star Wars novel, Poe Dameron: Free Fall, and the YA Spider-Verse adventure, Araña/Spider-Man 2099: Dark Tomorrow. In 2024, he published a sci-fi/espionage novel, Dark Space, co-written with Rob Hart; the graphic novel The Legendary Lynx, illustrated by Sandy Jarrell; Encanto: Nightmares and Sueños; and Alter Ego, a standalone sequel to Secret Identity. In addition to his prose writing, he has written a number of comics for Marvel and DC, including Star Wars: Battle of Jakku, Spider-Society, and The Question: All Along the Watchtower. With Michael Moreci he is the writer behind the noir re-launch of Dick Tracy. He lives in New York City with his family.