Motherhood as a River of RISK and Resilience: A Conversation with Memoirist Susan Norman
Although Susan Norman and I are both from South Lake Tahoe, we actually met through our publisher, She Writes Press. We quickly realized we not only had writing in common but also motherhood and whitewater—although my rafting career was short lived, while Susan’s paddling legacy is legendary! In her memoir, RISK: A Life Saved by the River (She Writes Press/The Stable Book Group, June 24, 2025), Susan shares her journey as a whitewater pioneer and a first-time mother to her nephew—undertakings that require resilience and a willingness to take risks. Susan explores how pursuing ‘good risk’ through adventure can help us escape—and face—our fears.
From the first page, Susan’s memoir reads like a river—at times slipping quietly along with Susan and her twin brother while her father distracts them from their mother’s illness, then scrambling for the surface as we flip end-over-end in the turbulence of Susan’s wondering and worrying about her mother, brother, and nephew/son. Susan’s storytelling is heartfelt and honest, infusing humor and vulnerability about becoming a mother post-menopause because she desperately wants to “get it right” with Seth but also knows she’s sometimes over her head—even in the shallows. – Bridey Thelen-Heidel
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BRIDEY THELEN-HEIDEL: RISK is an incredibly timely book because it seems like a lot of people are parenting nieces, nephews, and siblings. Do you remember when your role with Seth changed from aunt to mom? Do you think it happened for Seth at the same time it happened for you?
SUE NORMAN: I actually never had time to be his aunt. I visited Seth a few times between the ages of one and three when he was living with his birth mother in Cleveland. When Seth was 4, and I flew to Cleveland to bring him back to California, I was still a complete stranger to him because we had only spent a few days together.
But from the moment we got on the plane back to California, he never left my care again. Seth was very non-verbal when he first came to California: He did not ask questions about his parents or his situation, although I did make sure to let him know his Dad was coming to California soon. Seth absorbed the change, like he had already experienced so much during his young life.
Seth addressed me as Aunt Sue in the beginning because that is who his Dad, my partner, and I told him I was. About a year or so later, he began calling me both Aunt Sue and Mom. I think he referred to me as Aunt Sue more often when he was frustrated or angry at me. It was second grade when Aunt Sue was dropped altogether.
My parental role never changed from the day I got on the plane with him back to California. As the days, weeks, months, and years flowed on, our perceptions and labels evolved organically; although, from day one, I was always the one he could depend on.
BTH: What inspired you to write RISK? How did you start and—maybe most important—how did you manage to get all the way through to actually publishing your story and getting it out into the world?
SN: I did not actually know I wanted to write the memoir that I ended up with. As I got close to retiring from my job as a hydrologist with the US Forest Service, I knew I wanted to write a book about my life-long relationship with the river. As a pioneer in whitewater sports, I started paddling at about two years old with my family on canoe trips in 1960, kayaking at age thirteen, working as a kayak instructor and raft guide during college, and, eventually, competing internationally in both slalom kayaking and whitewater rafting. I was also deeply involved in the rapid evolution of whitewater paddle sports—recreationally, commercially, and in extreme adventure sports competition. Professionally, I worked as a hydrologist to protect and restore rivers and watersheds during my career with the USFS. The book I thought I was going to write would go deeper into the history and evolution of whitewater paddling sport, river advocacy, and the people I shared that history with.
With an incredible group of women in a writing workshop organized by Karey Terry of Tangled Roots Writing in Truckee, California, I began writing in earnest after retiring from the US Forest Service. I spent five years slowly learning the craft of creative writing within this skilled and supportive environment and learning how to write about my sport in a language that non-boaters could understand as well as my parenting challenges.
Seth was six when I first started working with this group, and I was overwhelmed, but many of the women—long finished with their own parenting journeys—offered support and, more importantly, encouraged me to start writing about my experience with Seth. They were the first to draw the parallels between my coming-of-age stories on rivers and the parenting path I was currently on—both of which, they believed, needed to be written about on a deeper emotional level.
At first I thought I was working on two books, but after discussions with my writing coach, Kat Terry, the vision for one book that intertwined both stories emerged. This vision was further reinforced in my first developmental edit with Brooke Warner (of She Writes Press). Brooke saw clearly that while my parenting story was the core of my memoir, it could—and should—be embedded within the vibrant backdrop of the river. Cutting my initial manuscript by over thirty percent, my editors and I carved out the final draft of RISK. Although it was not the book I set out to write, it is substantially better.
BTH: What scene from the memoir was the one story you had to tell—the one that was burning in your belly?
SN: I can’t pick out just one scene because every scene was important in its own way, providing a unique layer to the larger narrative. Some stories were fun to write, and others were difficult but necessary to convey the sometimes ugly truth. One of the tougher scenes is about a difficult parenting moment with Seth when he had a verbal and physical conflict with one of his classmates at school—which, unfortunately, happened with frequent occurrence. This scene was important to convey the difficulty both Seth and I had in managing our anger: Seth’s from a chronic struggle with emotional regulation, and mine from deep-rooted anxiety and fear about my ability to parent and to be in control. It was important to me to write about the emotional and physical manifestations of that anger in both of us because we needed to understand how to manage it.
BTH: Most moms are pretty hard on ourselves because it always seems like there is someone on social media doing it “better.” What does “good mothering” look like and/or feel like to you?
SN: I feel like I have been successful at mothering because maintaining firm and consistent boundaries has resulted in emotional and physical benefits for Seth. I provide clearly-communicated rewards and consequences related to behavior and school performance; while this is harder, persistence and consistency works. Mothering also feels good because I’ve been able to nurture Seth’s passions. With my background, I have introduced Seth to a lot of sports—and had high hopes that he would like the sports that I enjoy (skiing, paddling, surfing). As it turns out, Seth likes outdoor activities, but his real passions are music and theatre.
I also feel like I am “getting it right” when nearly every day (at age fifteen), Seth still wants me to give him a hug before bed—even on days when we have big disagreements. Seth has been diagnosed with ODD (oppositional defiance disorder), and I have control issues; however, we have learned to manage this dynamic, and our power struggles have helped our communication. We talk about hard things, and I hope we continue to do so. A therapist once told me that the kids you have to really worry about are the quiet ones—the ones who won’t argue or talk things out. I always try to remember that when we are in the thick of it.
BTH: What an interesting and complicated dynamic to not only parent your nephew but that he’s your twin brother’s son. How do you think that twin dynamic has played into the story in terms of how you and your brother are similar but also very different?
SN: Even though we are twins, my brother and I couldn’t be more different. Some people have commented that some of our mannerisms are similar, but I don’t actually feel much kinship with the person my brother is now.
I do still have a strong kinship with the boy I grew up with, and that could be why I developed an immediate bond with Seth because I recognized my young brother in his son. I never had a desire to raise children and was quite happy with my childless life, but when the choice was to become Seth’s guardian or see him end up in foster care, I chose him. It felt like jumping off a cliff, and I was terrified, but I could not let that little boy float off into unknown waters.
BTH: Do you think your brother is grateful you stepped in, and does he have a role in Seth’s life?
SN: I don’t have a relationship with my brother, although I do what I can to maintain appropriate contact between him and Seth because Seth loves his dad and always wants to spend time with him. David also loves Seth deeply but struggles with demons related to alcoholism and depression that drag him down. When that happens, he is out of contact with us for long periods of time. I explain to Seth that his Dad loves him more than his own life, but he is fighting a serious illness, and there is little we can do.
I provide all parental roles for Seth, and he has not been taught gender roles because they don’t exist in our household. I’ve taught him how to use tools (manual and power), how to play a variety of sports, and taken him on outdoor adventures. I make his meals, teach him to cook and clean, and set the family rules and boundaries. I am Seth’s sole source of safety, stability, and security. David is very grateful I have stepped in—although we battled in the early years. He wishes he could resume his parental rights, but his struggles continue. He’s also aware of Seth’s behavioral challenges and has communicated to me on several occasions how grateful he is that I have raised his son.
BTH: RISK has so many meanings in your memoir, including physical and emotional risks. What do you think is the ultimate takeaway for readers about the risks we subject ourselves to in life and the learning that comes when we do things we might not feel totally ready or prepared for?
SN: I hope the takeaway for readers is about the power of outdoor adventure to build resiliency. This will not be everyone’s path, since life and people are infinitely complex, but engaging with nature—sometimes in a challenging way—works magic on our brains. Of course, it does not require the same level of intensity that I chose and wrote about in my memoir. In fact, nowadays, this “magic” routinely happens on my daily dog walks. (A great book that describes some of the science behind this magic is Tough Broad, by Caroline Paul. It focuses on the benefits of outdoor adventure for women in their fifties and beyond).
Spending time outdoors (unplugged from our devices) and removing ourselves from societal pressures is calming and grounding. Taking on outdoor challenges—individually and in community (especially with other women)—teaches us how to manage fear and builds confidence, persistence, and focus. By engaging in what I call ‘good’ risk, we are better able to manage challenges that come up in our lives—including those sometimes life-changing events (physical, mental and emotional injury/illness) that affect us, our (chosen and blood) families, and our work.
These days, I assess and often scale back my ‘good’ risks—back-country skiing, SUP, outrigger canoe paddling, mountain biking, or rowing multi-day raft trips—to account for diminishments (and wisdom) that come with age. I still try to find that calculated edge of ‘good’ risk, though, to be sure I am experiencing the magic and maintaining the resilience to face the next unexpected challenge—which, for any of us, can come at any time. It’s life.
Susan Norman is a former National and World Champion in both whitewater kayaking and rafting who lives in South Lake Tahoe, California with her son/nephew, Seth, her partner, Lisa, and their two dogs. Her debut memoir, RISK: A Life Saved by the River, is available anywhere you love to buy books.
About the Author
Bridey Thelen-Heidel is a teacher, TEDx speaker, Pushcart Prize nominee, and author of Bright Eyes-A Memoir—Zibby Award winner “Best Story of Overcoming”; NYC Big Book Award “Distinguished Favorite”; and San Francisco Book Festival “Runner-up, Memoir.” A fierce LGBT+ youth advocate, Thelen-Heidel’s work has been celebrated by the California Teachers’ Association. She performed in Listen To Your Mother NYC and speaks around the country about defeating our monsters then learning to live without them.
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