My dad is a bank president and my mom was an accountant and they

The words of Kevin J. Anderson, “My dad is a bank president and my mom was an accountant and they didn't think that seeking the life of a freelance writer was very practical, you see. Of course, I was just as determined to do it,” ring with the eternal clash between the world of security and the world of dreams. In them, we hear the echo of a son raised in the order of numbers, balances, and ledgers, yet pulled by an irresistible call toward the uncertain, the creative, and the boundless. His parents embodied stability; he chose imagination.

The origin of this statement lies in Anderson’s own journey to becoming one of the most prolific science fiction and fantasy authors of modern times. Surrounded by parents who lived in the rational discipline of banking and accounting, he was nurtured in the values of prudence, reliability, and caution. To them, the path of a writer seemed risky, impractical, even reckless. And yet, Anderson’s heart burned with stories—tales of galaxies, heroes, and infinite possibilities. It was a fire that could not be dimmed by practicality.

This tension has appeared throughout history. Consider Vincent van Gogh, whose family urged him to choose a stable career in ministry or trade. Instead, he embraced the unstable, tormented path of art, leaving behind a legacy that, though unappreciated in his lifetime, became immortal after his death. Or recall Galileo Galilei, who was pressured to study medicine for the sake of stability, but could not resist the pull of the stars and the mathematics of the cosmos. Like Anderson, they defied practicality to follow a vision only they could see.

Anderson’s words also reflect the heroic resolve of determination: “Of course, I was just as determined to do it.” Here lies the lesson of courage. Dreams will always meet resistance, often from those who love us most, for they fear for our survival. But determination is the shield that allows the dreamer to withstand doubt. His parents’ skepticism was not cruelty, but love expressed through caution. His answer was not rebellion, but steadfastness—an unshakable resolve to walk his chosen path regardless of the obstacles.

There is also humility in his reflection. He does not mock or scorn his parents for their practicality. Instead, he recognizes it as natural, perhaps even necessary, for parents to wish safety for their children. Yet he reveals that safety alone is not enough for the soul. To live fully is to risk, to venture into the uncertain, to dare to create what has not yet been imagined. This is the wisdom passed down through every generation of creators: that the measure of life is not its security, but its fulfillment.

The lesson is timeless: choose the path of passion, even when it defies practicality. Security may guard the body, but only purpose nourishes the soul. One must honor the wisdom of stability, but not be bound by it. For the world is not moved forward by those who cling only to what is safe, but by those who risk all to bring forth what is new.

Practically, this means cultivating both courage and discipline. Follow your dream, but work at it with the steadiness of the banker and the precision of the accountant. For even in rebellion, Anderson’s upbringing gave him the tools to succeed: discipline, persistence, and a respect for structure. The true synthesis is not abandoning one world for another, but combining them—using practicality to sustain passion, and passion to give meaning to practicality.

Thus, Kevin J. Anderson’s words become more than personal memory. They are a teaching for all who stand at the crossroads between security and calling: dare to choose the uncertain path if it is the one your spirit demands. For in that daring lies not only your own fulfillment, but the creations and legacies that may inspire generations yet to come.