Category: blog

i will miss her forever

Posted on By Wil

Fourteen years ago, Anne and I went to Pasadena Humane Society to see some of the construction our fundraising supported. While we were there, we chatted with Kevin, who was our adoption coordinator for our dog, Seamus.

Seamus had been part of our pack for about a year, and we were talking with Kevin about how much we loved him, what an incredible dog he was, and how happy and grateful we were to have met and adopted him.

I remember saying, “I don’t think I will ever have another dog who isn’t a pittie. He is so sweet, and affectionate, and so gentle, and …” I stopped because I saw a volunteer walking a puppy toward us. She was tiny and underweight, but she had the biggest smile. I knelt down to meet her, and she did a somersault into my lap, wagging her tail so fast I couldn’t see it.

“Well, they are just like this!” I concluded. Then I loved on that puppy until Anne gently told me it was time to let her walk into the shelter.

I was completely in love with her, that fast. She reached into my heart and never left. The next day, it was Anne’s birthday. We went down to the beach for a long walk, as is tradition. We were approaching the Manhattan Beach pier when I said, “I just need to confirm with you that we are not adding another dog to our pack, because I can’t stop thinking about that puppy.”

Anne told me that she didn’t pet her, because she knew that she’d fall in love, too, if she did. I don’t recall what we said to each other, but Anne called PHS and asked them to put us on a waiting list to adopt her.

A few days later, Marlowe came home with us, and she was my baby girl for over a decade. Even when she was an old lady, she was my little girl.

Just over a month ago, we found out Marlowe had lymphoma. It was so aggressive, it moved so quickly, we couldn’t stop it. We did everything we could for her, but we had to say goodbye to her last month.

I miss her so much, my heart hurts. It’s been a month, and I still look for her everywhere in the house. I’ll be okay, and then something will remind me of her and I am sobbing in a heap on the floor.

This is the first time in my life I have experienced this kind of grief, this kind of loss. When we lost Seamus, at least Marlowe was here for both of us while we grieved (and we were here for her, when she grieved). Now there’s just a big empty house and my broken heart.

I will miss her forever, my sweet little girl.

blog

in which i take a deliberate moment to appreciate art

Posted on By Wil

I am making a deliberate effort to leave my phone as far away from my attention as I can, whenever I am able. I’m not looking at the news, I’m not scrolling the feeds, I’m not posting. I’m leaving it in my pocket, my car, in the kitchen, just … not in my face.

This fits into my efforts to slow down and be more present. It’s creating space I desperately need to decompress, get bored, let my mind wander and come back with a fun and creative idea.

Today, I was out for a minute and saw this little art installation on a telephone pole. It was weathered quite a bit; it’s been here for awhile. And it was beautiful to me. It was a few moments better spent than they would have been looking at anything on my phone, or anything I could have been listening to. It wasn’t dysregulating, it didn’t increase my internal DEFCON level.

I chose to experience and appreciate this thing that someone made when they were very much not thinking about me, because it was exactly where I needed it to be, exactly when I needed it.

I took some pictures (using only the camera and nothing else on the phone) so I could remember the moment, and share the art. They’re pretty big, so I’m gonna put them behind a jump.

(more…)

seven mary three come back

Posted on By Wil

This last weekend, I was in Pensacola, Florida. When I told my friend that, he said “what are you doing in Florida?” I said, “Trying to get out.” But I was actually there for Pensacon. It’s a convention that has invited me year after year, but hasn’t ever fit into my schedule until this year, so it was my first time.

Florida deserves the jokes we make about it, but my experience when I was there was quite lovely. Every person I interacted with was kind, friendly, helpful. I had an incredible piece of blackened gulf red snapper for dinner one night, my bed was comfy, and I did not have a single awkward or uncomfortable encounter with anyone at the show.

None of that is why this will be one of the most memorable conventions of my life, and I will now tell you why.

Holy. Shit.

I turned to my friend, Leah, who works with me at conventions to keep things running smoothly. “Dude, I have to come do this tomorrow.”

“Okay, we’ll take care of it,” she said.

So Saturday comes around, and I’m signing autographs at my table. Leah taps me on the shoulder and says, “it’s time to go downstairs.”

The excitement that surged inside of me threatened to explode out of my chest like Alien. I told the people who were in the line that I would be right back, I was going to fulfill a childhood dream.

We went downstairs to the photo-op area, and I apologized to the line I was cutting. They seemed to understand, my fellow fans of CHiPs, who also could not believe this was actually happening.

I bounced on the balls of my feet while I waited, and oh shit here comes Larry Wilcox. And he’s wearing a CHP uniform shirt with a name tag that says JOHN! I tried so hard to control my bouncing, but I’m pretty sure I failed.

We made eye contact and I said, “Hi, I’m Wil. I’m a huge fan and I am so excited to take a picture with you.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Larry.” We shook hands, and I didn’t keep shaking it like I did when I met Henry Rollins thank god.

There was a commotion around the corner, which could only mean one thing. Here comes Erik Estrada, much taller than I expected, and he is wearing a uniform shirt with a name tag that says PONCH.

Dude, it’s totally Ponch. Like, right there, right in front of me, are Ponch and John and I’m so excited I can’t tell if I’m going to burst into tears or throw up or what.

They take their positions on their marks, which are the same marks I had been using just a little bit earlier, and the photographer tells me that they are ready.

This is my chance. This is the one time I get to say this. I take a deep breath, and I say, “I don’t want to take up a ton of your time, so I’ll say this quickly. I grew up in Sunland-Tujunga, and you guys used to film in my neighborhood all the time.”

They looked at each other. “Sunland-Tujunga!” Larry Wilcox said. “We love Sunland-Tujunga!”

“Yeah, it was a great place to grow up. So I loved watching CHiPs, and I loved that I could see streets I recognized when I watched it.

“One day when you were filming, in like 1979, I think, my babysitter went to the set and came back with your autographs for me. I cherished them, until they were lost in a move probably 40 years ago.”

Erik Estrada’s eyes lit up and he flashed me that classic Ponch smile. I took a steadying breath.

“But this is really what I wanted to tell you: I had a rough childhood, with a lot of abuse an exploitation. I was sad and scared most of the time. But whenever you were on my TV, I was happy and I was safe. I loved CHiPs so much. You were the adults I wished I’d had in my life. You guys protected people, you stood up to bullies, and the whole cast felt like a group of people who were always there for each other. I desperately wanted that in my life, and watching CHiPs got me as close to it as I could get. So I really just want to say thank you for your work and for the joyful memories you gave me.”

“Oh, buddy,” Erick Estrada said, “thank you. Come here,” and he pulled me into a warm and loving hug.

“Thank you,” I said, “you have no idea.”

“I think maybe we do,” Larry Wilcox said, very kindly, with a warm smile. Maybe I’m not the first person to share a story like mine with them.

“Let’s take a great picture,” Erik Estrada said.

“Thank you. I’d love that,” I said.

I stood between them, they put their arms around me, and a dream came true for 9 year-old Wil.

img_20260221_1542178918006876817148513

They were such kind men. I felt seen and I felt special. All these years later, Ponch and John can still make this weird, sad, scared, little kid feel safe.

I will cherish this memory for the rest of my life.

I’m glad you’re here, and I hope you’ll come back to read more. If you’d like to get my posts in your inbox, you know what to do.

blog

i think i leveled up

Posted on By Wil

I turned in a story on Friday. It was over a year late. It needed eyes that aren’t mine, it needed another pass from me, it needed a polish. So it isn’t done done, but it’s close enough to done that I feel safe writing about what may turn out to be one of the most important things I’ve written in my creative and professional journey as a writer, maybe a close second to Still Just A Geek.

I worked on this story for about eighteen months, even though I “only” spent about 12 hours actually writing it. It was a year late, even though it “only” took me three days to write the draft that I turned in. I have never worked harder or longer with fewer words to show for it at the end. But they are good words. I am so glad that I did this, that I put this at the top of my queue and left it there, even when I felt like I couldn’t put two words together, because when I accepted it, I made a promise to myself that I would do the thing,1 and it was really important to me that I didn’t break that promise, even if it meant that the queue did not move at all, for a year.

(more…)
blog

It’s Storytime: Wend-Way-Go

Posted on By Wil

It is Wednesday, and that means there’s a new episode of It’s Storytime With Wil Wheaton, waiting for you wherever you get your podcasts.

This week’s story is Wend-Way-Go by Tim Pratt. It was originally published in Uncanny Magazine.

I made a creative choice for this week that I haven’t made before on the podcast, and it was so satisfying, I wanted to talk about it a little bit.

When I was working on Star Trek, one of the adults in the cast — and I can’t remember who, no matter how hard I try — introduced me to the concept of “meeting the demands of the material.” They meant that our job as actors is to serve the writer’s intention, not the other way around. Before we start changing words or rewriting lines, it is our responsibility to do the work of understanding the author’s intent until the scenes work. And if the scene still doesn’t work after all of that, then it is time to talk about making changes. But you don’t go making changes because you’re 15 and don’t yet know what it means to be an actor, beyond following direction.

It took me awhile to process that, and it took me even longer to reliably meet the demands of the material, but I eventually got there and never left.

As a narrator of over 100 titles, my job is easier, more joyful, and more satisfying because I know to listen to what the author wants to say, and then do my best to communicate that through my performance. When it works, the listener doesn’t even know what I did; they just feel the story more completely than they would, otherwise. It’s a pretty great trick.

When we recorded this week’s story, Gabrielle (who directs and produces) and I both felt that the material was making a specific demand, that was also a gift to me: without saying so directly, Tim sets this story in what felt to both of us like South Carolina, for some reason. It was so clear in the text that the narrative character needed to speak in a soft drawl, that supported his fundamental gentleness.

It is a creative risk, to be sure. Accents are tough, and present a unique trap that catches me all the time when I discover I am doing an accent, when I should be performing with an accent.

So it’s exciting and a little scary, but I’m glad I did it. I loved this story, and I hope you do, too.

And now, links!

You can also support the show on Patreon, where $5 a month gets you access to the show with no ads, a growing community of lovely people, live AMAs with me, and weekly insights behind the scenes of the show.

If this is your first time reading or visiting my blog, welcome! I’m glad you’re here. If you’d like to get my posts in your inbox, here’s the thing: