Wil Wheaton's Blog, page 4

Wesley Crusher and The Travelers

While you wait for this incredible new Star Trek series to release, I invite you to listen to episode one of It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton, before episode two drops tomorrow.

guess who likes you?

When I was a child actor and my mom was forcing me to do all of the child actor things, she was obsessed with my reviews. She made me feel like they were a test that I had to pass. I had to make the reviewers happy, so the audience (“your fans”) would remain happy. She relentlessly drilled into me that nothing was more important than what other people thought about me and my work, that I should be terrified of this audience that simultaneously hung on my every word (“your fans”) but was also so fickle they’d abandon me the instant I upset them.

That wasn’t how anything worked. It did not reflect reality at all, but it was an extremely effective method of control. After Roger Ebert gave The Buddy System (a bad movie) a fair review (It’s a bad movie), I was distraught. He said something about how I played a brat in the film (I did) but what I heard was “Wil Wheaton is a brat”. All the fear and anxiety my mom had poured into me threatened to drown me — did I mention I was ELEVEN? — so the only way I could manage to fight back was to just completely reject the whole notion of reviews. I remember telling people that I just wanted to let the work speak for itself, and I didn’t want to be out there talking about it. I didn’t have the awareness I have now to understand I was crying out for my family to notice me as a person, instead of the thing that paid for their stuff and made my mom feel important. I knew in my heart the next review would be the bad one that my dad would shove in my face as evidence that I deserved his rejection, that I wasn’t good enough to be worthy of his love and attention. Over the decades, I decided it was better to just ignore all the good ones, because I knew in my heart I’d only listen to the bad ones. And it’s all subjective, anyway. It can’t be about an artist’s inherent worth or value as a person and creator.

(It breaks my heart that younger Wil carried that burden as long as he did, and as a parent, I can’t comprehend doing anything that would make my children feel about themselves the way my parents made me feel about myself. It’s why, when someone in my Reddit AMA asked me what’s one thing in your personal life that you’re proud of?, I said “I am the dad I didn’t have.”)

In about 1986, my mom realized that teen magazines were always thirsty for me. Before too long, their editors realized that she was thirsty for their approval. Thus began several years of me being forced into endless photo shoots and choreographed encounters with other teeny bopper magazine kids. It all felt like I was just being used by everyone involved, and I couldn’t say no to it.

For the longest time, I didn’t grok that all press isn’t the same, that some press can actually work against my career goals (like being in every teen magazine in the world when you’re trying to be taken seriously as an actor), and that there is press that can make all the difference. My experience was warped because the press my mother prioritized wasn’t the kind of press I learned how to do when I was promoting my book, and now my podcast. It wasn’t press that was coordinated and targeted to give the work the best chance to find its audience. It was almost always attention for its own sake, another way for my mom to put me in a place where I was on display while she gorged herself on the attention I didn’t want. I hated it. I hated that it was more important than literally anything about me as a person or a son. So I frequently chose to give bad interviews, rarely took them seriously, and was pretty crap at the whole thing. If you’re one of the people who had to interview that kid, I’m sorry. He’s struggling like you wouldn’t believe and doesn’t have any support.

I always felt like it was speeding up the countdown clock on my fifteen minutes. After Stand By Me, it sent this message that I was the teeny bopper flavor of the month, and River was the serious actor*. When I was put in front of the photographers and stuff, I felt like a piece of dry bread, being pecked to death by birds who didn’t care who they were eating, as long as they were fed.

Starting with Tabletop, my attitude about press and promotion began to change. I began to see it as a necessary part of the whole thing, that didn’t have to be gross. In fact, I learned that it wasn’t inherently gross — that was my mom — unless I chose to talk to a gross outlet, which I haven’t done since I was in charge of my life. Doing interviews with Felicia, I began to see press as something that could be fun while it was helpful. I realized that nearly all the people I’m talking to are also just people who are doing their jobs. I’m sure there are countless entertainers who treat press the way I did when I was a kid, and I’m sure working with them (or that version of me) isn’t great. So I choose to be as close to great as possible when I have the chance. I’m going to honor their time and their audience’s attention, and I’m only going to say yes to people I actually want to talk to.

I took all of that energy into the promotion of Still Just A Geek, and I think it’s a big part of my book becoming a New York Times bestseller. So OBVIOUSLY I’m going to continue down that road as I promote It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton.

This is where I stop to make sure you know that I don’t hate any of what I’m doing now. I love all of it, and I’m grateful as fuck for everything that’s in front of me right now. This is where I think for a long time that I’m going to delete everything I just wrote and get to the thing I sat down here to write about in the first place.

…but I feel like that context is going to make the thing I wanted to write about in the first place a little more poignant. So. Thanks for your indulgence.

This is where I get to the actual post, and you realize that everything you’ve read to this point isn’t really the post, for some reason.

Before I walked Marlowe this morning, I was doing some administrative podcast work with my team. Our launch last week was met with enthusiasm that vastly exceeded my expectations, and we have way more media requests in five days than I thought we’d get in the whole first season. Yay! Go us! More people will get to find out we exist!

I’ve always planned for this podcast to start small and grow slowly. If this is going to find a large audience, it’s going to be because people who listened to it told their friends about it, who told their friends about it, and so on. It’s the only way I can compete for time and attention in a crowded marketplace.

This is a very important distinction I want to make about that phrase: I’m not personally competing with anyone in any kind of zero sum contest that will define our worth. I don’t feel like I need to prove to anyone that this is good enough (or that I am good enough) to justify their time; I just want to ensure that any person who will enjoy what we are doing knows we exist. And I hope those folks will choose to give me some of their time, once a week, until the heat death of the universe or I retire, whichever comes first.

As part of this discussion, my producer asked me if I’d looked at any reviews. I most certainly had not, for the reasons I wrote about (and nearly deleted) above. Well, I may want to, she told me, because they were entirely positive. Not mostly positive, mind you, but entirely positive**. I did not believe that was possible, so I went ahead and peeked through my fingers at the Apple Podcasts page for my show.

And, uh, well … yeah. The audience that listened to episode one and left reviews seems to have loved listening to it the way I loved narrating it.

Holy crap that’s incredible. It looks like what I worked to put into the world and what these people heard ended up being the same thing. That’s wonderful and so exciting!

We have a new episode dropping on Wednesday, and some other extremely cool stuff that’s sort of rendering into our reality as I type this. I’ll have more on that later this week or early next week. Also, I wanted to shout out Caroline M Yoachim, who wrote Rock Paper Scissors Love Death, for her Nebula nomination for We Will Teach You How To Read | We Will Teach You How To Read.

Oh, also, I was going to put this into its own blog, but it can go here: I don’t watch myself often, but when I do, I’m always looking for what I did wrong, where I fumbled my words, what I forgot to say, all the ways I sucked, etc. Because I am the executive producer and primary force behind this whole thing, I felt like I needed to watch myself on KTLA, the way an athlete looks at tape from the game, in case I am invited to be on other broadcasts or whatever.

I pressed play, and after about one minute, I became aware of tears flowing down my cheeks, because I was watching someone who looked and sounded just like me, only he was so happy and so comfortable in his own skin, so effortlessly proud of what he did without being Prideful, totally engaged with the hosts and genuinely grateful to be there. That guy takes nothing for granted and chooses gratitude. I want to be more like him.

Crying, yawning, laughing, are all ways our body reregulates our nervous system from an activated, fight or flight state, into a resting, parasympathetic state. My body had a lot to release, it turns out. Tears poured down my face and I felt all this tension in my chest and shoulders soften and release. I noticed that so much of the worry and weight of the possibility and hope I’m afraid to embrace wasn’t as heavy.

I was so happy to see that guy be happy. I was so happy to see that guy genuinely enjoying the opportunity in front of him, and I was so happy that he could receive the sincere interest and kindness of the hosts.

And that guy was me! I’m that guy!

There’s a version of me who doesn’t do The Work I have done and continue to do, and I don’t know that he even tries to make It’s Storytime. He doesn’t believe in himself, and he’s terrified to take chances. He is convinced that his dad is right about him. I want to gently hug that guy and show him what’s possible when he does The Work. I want him to know — I need him to know — that he can do it, because if I can, anyone can. Everything worth doing is hard, including The Work. That version of me — all versions of me — are worth it. I’m so grateful to be a version of me who never gave up when it was hard. I’m so grateful that I could see and feel and BE that version of myself.

To bring this back around (I love a good bookend***): I rarely read reviews, and when I do, I’ve always struggled to take anything away from them other than “well, 500 people say you’re awesome, but this one dude who can’t spell says you suck so he obviously sees through your facade and you should quit because you’ll never be good enough.”

I’ve done so much work, healed so much trauma, grown into something that looks an awful lot like what I hope my best self looks like, and that means I’m in a place where I can accept that the audience I hoped to reach is finding the thing I made, they are enjoying the thing, and telling other people about the thing. And not because they feel sorry for me or want something from me, but because they liked the thing I made and want to share how it made them feel with other people. That means everything to me.

It’s my understanding that the reviews and ratings y’all are leaving on the show are all very helpful for our discovery and growth. So I appreciate you all so much. I think we’ll have a good sense of the size and retention of the audience in about two weeks, and we’ll know if we can start ramping up for another season.

Thanks for being part of this, and coming on this journey with me. As I will continue saying, I’m so grateful you are here, and offering me a chance to entertain you.

Here’s my subscribe to the blog thingy:

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And here are the obligatory collection of links to subscribe to (and rate and review) It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton:

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*That’s not entirely inaccurate, but not because of any choices I made, or anything inherent to me.

**I realize that this is begging for a review bombing.

***I need it to have been a true Oner, don’t you? Either way, it’s amazing, and they even told us where they could have cheated, but she said it was a true Oner with no cheats so … I choose to believe that it was, even though I know how unlikely that is.

It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton episode one – Rock Paper Scissors Love Death by Caroline M Yoachim

I suck at mornings, so it was kind of rough to get up earlier than usual so I could make it to KTLA to be on the morning news. But I was so excited to be there, and so excited my new podcast was finally out in the world, I practically jumped out of bed when the alarm went off.

Two cups of coffee and one surprisingly smooth commute into Hollywood later, I made a post on Instagram while I was in the Sam Rubin green room:

I’ve been on national and international broadcasts. Once, I was the guy BBC World Service went to for the governor election when Schwarzenegger ran the first time. True story!

But I’m one of those kids who loved the local news when I was growing up. It felt like something everyone watched and talked about. I don’t know if that persists in the current media landscape, but being invited to KTLA to talk about It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton is a very big deal for me, easily as exciting and meaningful (maybe a little moreso) than all of that other stuff. While I wait to go on my inner child is doing zoomies while I do my best to maintain decorum in the green room.

It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton dropped today, and you can find it wherever you get your podcasts.

I had a fantastic time while I was there. I felt more comfortable, more focused, more present than I expected. I always get nervous and I always feel like I’m a beat behind the action because a big part of my attention is burned on tracking reactions — how much am I fucking up? — than it is on just enjoying the moment.

I did this thing where I reminded myself that I was invited, that I deserved to be there, and the thing I was there to promote is genuinely a good thing that I worked hard to make, so it’s totally cool to feel proud and enjoy talking about it. I even mostly listened to myself!

They were so wonderful to me. I have had interviews with people who are obviously just doing their jobs, who aren’t interested in me or what I’m talking about beyond whatever their producer prepped for them. This wasn’t that, at all. All of the anchors at the desk were just lovely! They were genuinely interested in me before the segment started (crazy, since they have so much on their minds and so much pressure being live) and stayed that way until I was finished. I was totally floored by how welcomed and celebrated I felt.

Can anyone else see how the news team is like YO THIS IS GREAT while my posture is just DONT FUCK UP WIL BE COOL AND STAND THERE LIKE A NORMAL PERSON MAKE SURE YOUR POSTURE IS GOOD SO NOBODY LAUGHS AT YOU ugh. I will eventually be able to pose like a human in one of these pictures, I promise.

Anyway, I had a blast. The producer who took these pictures (I lost her name; sorry she was lovely) told me my segment would be online, and when it is, I’ll link to it. EDIT: Here it is! https://ktla.com/video/wil-wheaton-describes-recording-his-own-podcast/10573518/

Late yesterday afternoon, one of my friends told me they loved the episode, and asked me how I was feeling. I tried to nail down and describe all the complex emotions (many of them conflicting) roiling around inside of me, and I settled on something like this: You don’t celebrate winning the game because you got a single in the first inning that didn’t even get a run across, but you absolutely celebrate your first single of the season, and hope that it’s one of the many things you need to do to eventually win the game. All the while, you try to find a way to enjoy the game, because playing the game is so much fun (and it’s what you’ve dreamed about doing forever), while also taking the job of playing the game seriously. There’s a LOT of game left, but our starter is looking great and the bat just feels very comfortable in my hands today, and I’m doing my best to stay out of my own head and just see the ball. I’m not even thinking about the stuff that’s out of my control. Yet.

It’s incomplete and imperfect, but so am I, so that’s what you get.

But for now, I just wanted everyone to know that my first episode, an absolutely magnificent story by the wonderful Caroline M Yoachim, is just a podcast, standing in front of an audience, asking them to listen to it.

Enormous thanks and gratitude to all of you who have listened, rated and reviewed, and told your friends. I wouldn’t have gotten on base without you, and you’re going to be a huge part of why I score any runs.

Two bits of business before I elbow and send.

First, the subscribe to my blog emails thingy:

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And finally, the obligatory collection of links to subscribe to It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton:

Subscribe now at

Apple PodcastsPocketCastStitcherSpotifyPandoraiHeartAmazonor grab the RSS directly from me right here.

Thanks for reading, everyone. I’m grateful for the opportunity to entertain you. It is a privilege that I do not take for granted.

It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton is almost … hear.

Saturday night, Anne and I went to a screening of a friend’s new movie, called Locked (it’s fantastic; a tight, clever, surprising thriller that I think is about late stage capitalism if you squint). While we were waiting to go in, we ran into one of our neighbors, and we were having the talk you have with neighbors who you’re friendly with, who you like, but who you don’t really know all that well. They’re kind people, though, and I always enjoy chatting with them.

As we were talking, I noticed someone over my neighbor’s shoulder was looking at me. I have seen this look innumerable times in my life from someone who knows my work, and is just confirming in their mental reference library that the guy in the Sisters of Mercy T-shirt is the same guy they saw on their TV.

I could have given him the “yep, it’s me” nod that I have watched my famous friends do for years, but that just felt weirdly uncomfortable in the moment so I didn’t let him know that I knew that he was in the process of knowing. I put my focus and attention on my neighbor and listened to him.

That’s when this guy closed the distance between us in a couple of strides, looked me square in the face and said, “WIL WHEATON! I CAN’T WAIT FOR YOUR PODCAST!” Then he disappeared into the crowd.

I just about fell over. As long as I can remember, people have been stopping me to tell me something about Stand By Me, or Star Trek, or Big Bang Theory. That’s awesome. I’m grateful that audiences enjoy and remember the work I have done for other people. It’s genuinely wonderful to know that. But this is the first time — ever — someone has come up to me out of a crowd and expressed excitement about a little project I created entirely on my own, paid for out of my pocket, and made precisely the way I wanted to make it, with the help of some extremely talented people. This didn’t even happen with Tabletop until we were deep into the second season.

It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton is going to start hitting podcast apps in about 15 hours. It’s bracing that it’s actually here. I started working on this almost two years ago. More than once along the way, I ran into an obstacle that threatened to end it before it even began. More than once, the part of me that keeps Carrie’s Mom alive in my head yelled at me, “THEY’RE ALL GONNA LAUGH AT YOU!”* More than once, the fear of what may go wrong threatened to overwhelm and drown the excitement for what could go right.

But something inside of me kept telling me that this was a good idea. This was something that absolutely had an audience, if only I could find it.

This guy outside the AMC in Burbank (no, not that one, the other one) — a young guy, too! He couldn’t have been 30! — gave me this gift he didn’t even know he was giving me. His enthusiasm hit me like a super stimpack, and I let myself feel it.

That’s a huge thing for me, y’all. Growing up in a house where I was a target for the bully I had instead of a father taught me to keep everything that mattered to me as close to my heart and as far away from him and his mocking cruelty as possible. If I ever expressed joy or pride about something I did, he took it away from me and replaced it with humiliation. My brother frequently joined in on the fun while our mother sat quietly and let it happen. It wasn’t great.

Well … fuck that guy (disdainful). Fuck all of them, actually (celebratory). I’m so proud of myself and so excited for this thing I worked so hard to create. Of course I’m terrified! Of course I’m so nervous I can’t really eat! But that’s because I know I made something I feel good about, and I just really hope enough people respond to it to allow me to do more. I’m not worried that they’re all gonna laugh at me (and, for the record, Wil, that’s never happened so maybe you can stop doing that to yourself); I’m hopeful that they all find out about this thing I think they’re gonna love.

I know that a lot of you reading this have been with me for 25 years or so (holy shit can you believe that? Let’s take a moment to feel old, and to celebrate our defiant survival**!) with a front row seat to all the ups and downs, all the times things seemed bleak and all the times I got to celebrate something wonderful.

I had and have the courage and the drive to make this because I know that. I know that you all are there, because you’ve always been there, just beyond the glare of the footlights. I can’t always see you, but I can feel the energy out there in the darkness. I hear your laughter and applause. I can feel when something I make, because I thought it would be fun, turns out to be something you enjoyed or even loved.

I really believe that It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton is one of those things, and by this time tomorrow, we will find out if I’m right, and I will get to make more seasons.

I will absolutely need your help to make that happen. If you listen and you enjoy it, please rate and review, like and subscribe, and above all: tell your friends who you think will also like it that they (and you)can subscribe now at

Apple PodcastsPocketCastStitcherSpotifyPandoraiHeartAmazonor grab the RSS directly from me right here.

Thanks, everyone, for all the support you’ve shared with me for a quarter of a century (oh my god i am so old) and for making it possible for me to take a shot at finally having my dream job.

*If you get this reference, you should schedule your colonoscopy.

**If your survival has not been defiant, please substitute your appropriate experience. Mine has been all kinds of defiant.

I made a thing!

Hi friends! I am so excited to announce It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton, my new podcast. Our first episode drops on March 26th.

This idea emerged from my creative self the same way that Tabletop did. It spung, fully-formed, into my face when my friend who has been writing since we were in high school told me that he had finally been published.

I was so excited for him, and I loved his story so much, I thought it would be cool to narrate it for him, one friend to another, in celebration of something that’s been such a long time coming. As I pulled my mic out of the closet, and opened up Audacity to do one of my signature DIY, lo-fi thingies, a voice in my head said, “Hey, man. I think this could be the basis of a podcast. Hear me out: you’re a respected and acclaimed narrator. What if you looked for new works from great authors who haven’t yet found their audience, and narrated them? What if you used the privilege you have earned to help boost other people’s creative voices and careers?”

This was a good idea, I thought. But I didn’t know that anyone else would agree, so I attempted to tackle it entirely on my own.

Two miserable, frustrating months later, I concluded that I am not cut out to be a slush reader, or a content editor, and if I was going to move this from idea to thing, I needed help. So I asked some friends who had relevant experience, and built an all-star creative and technical team to do all the things I couldn’t, which allowed me to focus on narrating the stories, which is the part of this I know how to do.

I’m going to yadda yadda over the next year, which was marked by starts and stops, enormous technical challenges, and lots of very good work that kept me going through all of it, and jump ahead to last summer, at the Burbank airport departure terminal A.

I was there with LeVar Burton, waiting to board our flight to a convention.

LeVar had just finished his podcast, which I loved and listened to regularly. When I went looking for a similar podcast to replace it, I couldn’t find one that checked all the boxes that his did … and that’s when I realized I was making the podcast I wanted to hear, profoundly inspired by him and all of his work. I absolutely wasn’t going to move forward without his blessing; he’s family and I’m not going to step on his toes.

So I told him all about it, and asked him if he was cool with it.

To my utter delight, he was as excited about it as I am, and he encouraged me the way a loving parent or family member encourages their kid to follow their dream. Even if this podcast doesn’t find its audience, and only lasts one season, that moment will stay with me for the rest of my life.

I’ve been doing lots of press, and I’ll share those links when they are released. For now, I’d love for you to see the video I made of myself recording the trailer that dropped today:

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A post shared by Wil Wheaton (he/him) (@itswilwheaton)

Here’s everything you need to know, copied from my official podcast page:

You may recognize Wil Wheaton’s name from his acting work in television shows like The Big Bang Theory, Leverage, and Star Trek: The Next Generation, or 1985’s timeless classic, Stand By Me. You may recognize his voice from one of the many audio books he’s narrated, including number one New York Times bestseller, Ready Player One, John Scalzi’s award-winning Collapsing Empire Trilogy, or even his own bestselling memoir, Still Just A Geek.

Now, Wil brings you It’s Storytime, with Wil Wheaton, a weekly audiobook podcast, featuring stories that Wil loves, pulled from the pages of Uncanny, Lightspeed, On Spec, and others. You’re going to meet authors you don’t yet know you love, including some who are being narrated for the very first time. Listeners will travel through time, meet some gods, watch people fall in and out of love, and more, brought to life by Wil’s remarkable narrative voice.

It’s Story Time With Wil Wheaton is available wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes drop every Wednesday, beginning March 26.

Subscribe now at

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I hope you’re as excited about this as I am, and I hope you’ll help me let other people who would enjoy this, know that it exists. The easy part was narrating all these stories and writing all the stuff that went with it; the hard part is helping it reach its audience.

I’ll be checking comments for the next few hours, if you have any questions.

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eagles and books and odds and ends

In a wonderful little neighborhood called Larchmont, there’s a wonderful little bookshop called Chevalier’s.

A friend of mine ran into Patrick Stewart there today, and when my friend mentioned that to me, I was reminded of the day a few years ago when Patrick saw my book there, and he texted me a picture of it, because he was excited for me. I’d misplaced that memory, and I’m so grateful that I found it today.

This isn’t Chevalier’s. This is Vroman’s in Pasadena.

I was going to post that on Bluesky, but it was too long. Rather than break it up across posts there, I took it as a reminder that my blog exists for a reason, and this is absolutely a lovely little memory that I can share on at Friday afternoon.

While I have your attention, I want to share some stuff that’s come across my event horizon recently. It’s on the other side of the thingy.

The eagles in Big Bear have finally hatched two of their eggs, with a third looking like it’s going to hatch, as well. I have been increasingly emotionally invested in these eagles and their nest for a couple of years, since a webcam was put up there, and I’m just so happy to see them welcome babies. I know it’s going to be thunderdome in there real soon, but right now it’s just adorable little chicks being fed by their parents.

Remember Katamari Damacy? I’ll wait while you sing the theme in your head real quick.

…la laaaa la la la la la lala Katamari Da-ma-ccyyyyyy

My friend turned me on to a game that’s similar, called hole.io. It’s 2 minute rounds against other players where you’re just trying to guide your hole around, suck everything into your hole to make it as big as possible by just stuffing it full of

Phrasing.

You want to have the biggest hole, because the biggest hole wins and

Phrasing.

It’s really fun, and I warn you it’s super addictive.

I’m nearly finished with The Ministry of Time. It’s taken me much longer to read it than I thought it would, but not because I’m unable to read like I was during much of the last five years. I’ve just been too busy with my own work to settle in and read for fun. I’m doing that trick where I tell myself that I need to read so I can write, I need to experience other people’s creations to inspire my own, so if you really think about it, reading for fun is kind of doing work, Wil.

And now I have this delicious conundrum, because I have a galley right here for a book I’ve been invited to blurb (it’s weird how I get so excited and honored when I am asked to do this, but I am SO UNCOMFORTABLE asking anyone to do it for me.) and this book, which comes out in June, is so entertaining and wonderful, I kind of want to drop everything and just read it.

Which, again, I could totally justify as work. Maybe I will.

Did anyone else feel like this week just flew by? Monday felt like a month, and I honestly don’t know where this week went. Maybe it’s just me.

Everything is terrible, the dumbest and most evil people imaginable are hurting as many people as they can, and I’m just not sure that holding up little signs is the best act of resistance in this moment of extreme crisis.

So I’m doing what I’ve done since Mister Rogers first said it to me as a little kid, and I am looking for the helpers. I’m also choosing to be a helper whenever I can. I truly believe in being a Helper. I even got the tattoo.

If we are going to get through this, if we are going to rebuild what they have destroyed and will destroy, we must take care of each other. We need to be the helpers. So as we go into the weekend, I challenge each of you to be a helper, at least once. I’d love it if you shared how you chose to help. Maybe that will inspire other people, and we’ll all feel a little less alone, a little less afraid, and a little more empowered.

Have a good weekend, friends. I’m glad you’re here. I appreciate you.

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slava ukraini

Trump and Vance really put the tyrant in tantrum, didn’t they? Pathetic. Weak, cowardly, sniveling little bullies is all that they are.

I understand that I’m just one person who voted against all of this. I understand that this is just my blog. I understand that when the history of this is written, I will not even be a footnote.

But it is still important to me to go on the public record: The way Trump and Vance treated the President of Ukraine was despicable. It was a betrayal of an ally that is fighting for its very existence. As an American, I am disgusted with the rulers of my country. I am disgusted with their supporters, who ought to be ashamed of themselves.

To the people of Ukraine, I am so sorry. 75 million of us did everything we could to stop this. but there is a white supremacist cancer in America’s blood, and the 2024 election confirmed that it has metastasized. For what it’s worth, I stand with you, as I stand against the tyrants who disrespected your president yesterday.

i say ‘thing’ in this post a LOT.

A few hours ago, I finished my part of this project I’ve been developing and working on for a few years. Now, other artists are making their contributions to the project, as we move it closer to that terrifying and exhilarating moment when we give it to you.

I just wrote this in an email:

“This feels like I’m tempting Fate, but … I’m optimistic. I feel the way I did when we were working on Tabletop, before anyone had seen it. This just feels good, it feels like it fits into a space that is currently vacant, and even if it doesn’t find a huge audience, I know we made something special for the audience we did find.”

Tabletop is the most recent thing I did that totally belonged to me in every way that mattered (until it didn’t. heavy sigh.) and I didn’t realize how much I missed having something like this in my life until I was doing it again with this thing. Working on my own thing lights me up in a way that working on someone else’s thing can’t, even when I love working on their thing as much as I can possibly love working on anything.

AUGH! I am so excited for this I just want to slap it.

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a year later, a photo and memory dump from star trek the cruise vii.

This month has been such an awful year, my sense of time is … “weird” is the best I can come up with … in a way it hasn’t been since the lockdown days, when every day felt like Friday, and it never felt like the weekend.

Anyway. When I woke up this morning and plucked the rectangle of doom from its charger, I fumbled it (like you do) and bumped the screen with my thumb as it slipped from my hand and tumbled to the floor, alarm screeching. I groaned, dragged myself out of bed, and then I carefully and mindfully bent over to pick it up because my body is just being such an asshole about the whole I’m fifty-two-almost-fifty-three situation. I silenced the alarm as I cursed the guy who set it for me yesterday.

At some point in the fall to the floor, the rectangle must have switched modes from endless delivery of doom to have some joyful memories because if you look like someone who is going to throw me into a volcano if I don't, because when I slid my thumb across the face to shut it up, it revealed a collage it had made me, from one year ago, when Anne and I were on Star Trek: The Cruise. Oh, little phone I didn’t know I’d have to name FuckTrump all over again when these pictures were taken, I can’t stay mad at you.

This morning’s bedhead went on a milkshake date, did some fun nerdy stuff, watched his favorite human hit one of the jackpots on a slot machine, and watched the sunset.

And I gotta tell you, the joyful memories were abundant, retrieved by all my senses and delivered to me in 7.1 4K Mega Digital Super Surround-o-Rama.

I remembered the kindness shown to me by literally every single passenger I encountered. How everyone gently respected my boundaries, how delightful it was to notice something in the decor that was an easter egg for nerds like me.

All it takes is a few graphics to turn a boring cruise ship elevator into a starship turbolift.He was so patient while I nerded out and took a selfie.Right after this picture, I asked him if knew where I could find Tuvix. It was awkward, I admit.

I remembered the hours I had the privilege to spend backstage with my extended Star Trek family, with my Space Mom and Space Little Brother I Never Knew About, before going on stage to perform with them for an audience that wanted to love us.

The Crusher Family Therapy Hour With Todd Stashwick was the first time I’d done improv in years. It was so much fun.

I remembered how great it felt to walk off every stage I was on, feeling like we met their expectations. (I didn’t remember, but was reminded by my blog, that I risked a raw, emotional, vulnerable performance, and was rewarded with a standing ovation.)

I walked off that ship feeling energized, inspired, grateful to be part of something so special, and I didn’t realize until this moment how much I needed to feel the memory of that, right now.

The 2025 cruise is happening as I write this, and I’m envious of my friends and family who are part of it … but I’m also really happy for them and my fellow nerds, because I remember.

I sent this picture to my godson, and he sent back “Who are you supposed to be in that picture? Is it AI?” I guess my sister hasn’t introduced him to Star Trek.“Mom, I want Wesley.”
“We have Wesley at home.”
Wesley at home:

Thanks for reading, friends. I hope this finds you well. Before you go, if you haven’t subscribed to updates, I’d love for you to do that. I have an incredible announcement coming, and I don’t want you to miss it. (That’s why these horrible reminders are all over the place). A huge thank you and terrorist fist jab to the 13,000 of you who got this in email! I appreciate you.

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W.O.R.K (N.O. Nah, No No My Daddy Don’t)

My work life is weird. Most people have a reliable schedule and know when they’ll work, and how much. They can plan out their week, their month, and their budget accordingly. But not me. I will go weeks or months without a job, and then work my face off for 45 straight days. I’ll look at an empty week on my calendar that suddenly fills up before the end of Monday. I’ll have zero jobs and a wide open calendar for weeks at a time, and then four jobs all want me and they can only work at exactly the same time so I have to choose just one. (I hate it when that happens. I’d do so much more cool stuff if not for the constant conflicts).

I mean, look, this as far as problems go, as far as uncertainty goes … this is not the worst thing. I love how much I get to just do my own thing, usually whenever I want to, it’s not the worst thing! But I also am not crazy about that uncertainty. To make it less intense, we made a choice about 15 years ago to keep a year of liquidity in savings, just in case. Knock on wood, we haven’t needed it. And to take even more control over my life and career, I started developing this project that, if it finds its audience, could become the thing I do full time. I would love that. You have no idea.

This week, I’ve been working my face off on what feels like the final lap of this passion project I’ve been developing for a couple of years. Late last year, after a long development process that felt at times like it would never end, I started work on the thing. Last week, we hit a significant milestone that allowed us to set a release date on the calendar for next month, and I’ve spent all day every day this week doing so much writing for it, my fingers are numb and my brain is mush. I want to keep going, but the flesh is spongy and bruised.

It’s been a nice break from the horrors, though, and I have been so grateful for that. It reminds me that, even though everything is terrible and America is in the middle of a fascist coup, we still need breaks from the fight to restore our hit points and our mana. We need to step away from the fire hose of social media and all of its algorithmically-driven agitation and addiction. We need to breathe and taste the air and practice some quiet self care. As an entertainer, I can help create that space for anyone who wants or needs it. That’s how I can be a Helper. That’s what I want to do with my work, and that’s what this project is all about.

I really want to make sure you know about this when it releases. The best way to make sure you do is by signing up for email alerts when I make pots posts on my blog. If I did what I think I did, you should be navigating about ninety thousand popups and reminders that you can subscribe.

Here’s one more.

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Okay bye!