blogging to an ocean, hear the comments roar

Inside of me, there is an ocean of creativity in which I swim, dive, or sail whenever I want to tell a story or make A Thing Where There Was Not A Thing Before. When the tide is up, getting into that ocean is as easy as taking a couple of steps. When the tide is out, I have to walk across the biggest, stinkiest, muck-covered mud flat you can imagine. I can do it, because I am awesome, but by the time I get to the water’s edge, I’m so tired and drained, I don’t have much energy left to do whatever I went there for in the first place. And whatever I do make usually stinks a little bit.

I used to believe that I could force the tide to come in, could pull it in all on my own, by reading or listening to music or consuming inspirational entertainment. This was a profound misunderstanding of “if you don’t have time to read, you don’t have time to write” that took me years and way too many demoralizing and unproductive walks across that mud flat to correct.

You all know this already: the tide moves on its own. It’s too busy enjoying its dance with the Moon to care about humans. It does not even notice that we exist. Nothing I did affected it, and even though I think I knew that, I didn’t want to admit that I was overwhelming myself as a consumer, so I’d feel productive until it came in, right on its own schedule, and I could go back to being a creator and feeling productive.

All too often, I found myself standing on the shore, toes touching the water, entirely too exhausted to get in. And before I knew it, the tide was headed back out to sea. If I caught any of it at all, I still had to slog through a lot of stinky mud on my way back.

I became aware of this artistic tide about a year ago. And ever since, I have done my best to allow (encourage) myself to rest when the tide is out. The resting is what matters. For me, Rest looks like a lot of different things. I watch a lot of movies, or none at all. I catch up on entire seasons of tv shows, revisit old favorites. I play video games. I start a lot of books, and finish some of them. I go on long walks alone and with Anne. I spend entire days doing as close to nothing as possible. I encourage myself to get bored, to let my mind wander and sketch out something I may want to go looking for when the tide comes back in. And I do it all without looking at the calendar, at the clock, or any tide charts (which don’t exist in this metaphor, because if they did it would collapse and I just need you to let me have this.)

The last time the tide was in, I made the most of it. I had a lot of fun. I don’t think I even got out of the water for more than a few hours at a time for weeks. I wrote a cyberpunk short story about my friend’s Crocs turning him into a zombie, a Wesley Crusher story for the Star Trek comic, a whole bunch of stuff that’s not ready for publication, some pretty good blog posts. It was awesome, and though I was sad to watch it go, I was ready to get out and dry off when it left. I was ready to rest, looking forward to it, to be honest.

But the tide has been out for a lot longer than I can remember it being recently, and I’ve been pining for it. I’ve taken a few steps into the mud a little bit, found a few puddles, and what I’ve written and created there has been fine. I bet you didn’t even notice it was a little stinky. But the ocean is still far away. It’s not my favourite thing (hi Canada. I love you and I’m sorry about all this bullshit) but I guess I must have matured as an artist, or I feel more comfortable with myself as an artist, (and maybe that’s the exact same thing, resulting in a version of myself who is kinder and more patient with me than I used to be) because I fully accept that the tide is not mine to influence, let alone control. It’s okay to rest, so I’m ready when it gets here.

Oh hey. I just looked up, noticed that I’ve wandered way out into the mud, and I’m suddenly tired and stinky. But I’ve come this far from the beach so I could share how happy I am that last week, I thought that maybe I felt the wind shift, or the pressure change, the way it does when the tide comes in. And just before I wrote this paragraph, I think I glimpsed a thin, fiery shimmer on the horizon.

I appreciate you coming with me on this walk. Sorry about the mud. It washes out.

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It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton Episode 3 – The God of Minor Troubles by Megan Chee

It’s Wednesday, which means I get out of my comfort zone and promote the hell out of my podcast!

This week’s story is The God of Minor Troubles, by Megan Chee, originally published in Strange Horizons.

For my introduction, I wrote:

From a mortal’s perspective, a god is a god is a god. Omnipotence isn’t really on a spectrum; it’s pretty binary.

The gods don’t see it that way. From the moment humans dreamed them into existence, they’ve fought among themselves to determine which mortals they will hear, what responsibilities they each will have, and how those responsibilities will be divided amongst the firmament. While mortals merely hope their prayers will be heard, it turns out that some of the gods answering them aren’t particularly thrilled with their assignment.

I am about to introduce you to one of those gods, who does not yet know that it’s actually pretty major to be the god of minor troubles.

Remember:

When someone asks you if you’re a god, you say YES.
When someone prays to you for help with their troubles, they don’t particularly care if you think they are minor or not. Just answer the damn prayer.
These stairs go up.

I’m so grateful to Megan Chee, and all of the authors who said yes when I asked them if I could narrate their work, because they are helping me celebrate, promote, and support the Arts with this project. When authors are as excited to hear me, as I am to speak their words, I feel like I’m doing something right. When audiences share that same excitement with me, I know that it so worth it to do this work and take this risk.

Before I get to the links and stuff, I want to speak directly to you. I don’t know who you are, but you’re reading this, you’re listening to the podcast, you’re allowing me the privilege to do this thing that matters to me more than just a job ever would. I’m only able to do this with your support and I need you to know how grateful I am for that. I hope I’m sharing authors, ideas, and narratives with you that you wouldn’t have found on your own, and that you’re inspired to share that with your friends and family, and even go looking for more from them.

Okay, I’m going to go back to talking to everyone, now.

If you aren’t already a subscriber, here are some convenient links:

I also have a Patreon with an ad-free feed and some nifty extras that didn’t fit into the primary show, if you want to support me that way.

Thanks for listening, thanks for subscribing, thanks to everyone who has rated and reviewed us. I appreciate it.

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on healing trauma by being the person i need in the world

Every day, I do my best to be the person I need in the world, the person who was never there for me when I was a kid. I do my best to be kind, patient, and gentle. I do my best to look for joy and glimmers, to create joy and glimmers for others. When I am working hard to be that person for myself, I am occasionally that person for someone in the world who I may never meet in person. And when I hear from those people, who bravely trust me with their stories, it inspires me to keep going. Because on those days when it’s REALLY hard, when I know I’m fucking up and not being the person I want to be, I can forgive myself and remember that everyone fucks up from time to time, but not everyone makes the effort to learn and grow. Time I spend beating myself up for fucking up is time I am not spending being the person I need, so I lose twice (like the Dodgers, yesterday!).

I sat down with Mayim Bialik to talk about surviving childhood abuse and exploitation, reparenting myself, and how I’ve grown and healed since we last spoke on her podcast, about three years ago.

You also get to see me get triggered in real time, realize it, recover from it, and address what happened. It’s a little embarrassing to see myself fuck up like that, in public no less, and be reactive when I want to be responsive, but I feel like it could be a valuable teaching moment and that’s worth a little embarrassment, if it’s helpful to literally anyone else in the world.

I hope you’ll make some time to watch or listen to this, with the warning that I speak about being abused by my father, exploited by both of my parents, abandoned by all but one of my relatives (and even that’s barely there, only when I reach out), and how I’ve worked so hard to overcome all of it.

I also talk a little bit about It’s Storytime, which I’d love for you to subscribe to if you haven’t already. New episodes drop every Wednesday!

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rock and or roll

Saturday night, my friend and I went to see The Linda Lindas and Be Your Own Pet at the Novo, at LA Live.

I haven’t been to the Novo before (I think maybe it was a bowling alley at one point? Part of it felt familiar, and the bowling alley is the only place I’ve been that would fit the memory), and I was thrilled to discover a new (to me) venue with fantastic sight lines and great sound.

I saw Linda Lindas open for Blondie¹ at the Greek like two years ago, and they killed. I’ve been a fan since I heard Racist, Sexist Boy* about three years ago, and I am emotionally invested in their happiness and success. They are going to blow up before we know it, and take their place as the 21st century’s Go-Gos, or Runaways. I just love those kids!

Did I mention they are all kids? When I saw them at the Greek, I think Mila, the dummer, was 12? And Bela, one of their guitarists, was like 16? You’d never know it, based on their stage presence and technical chops.

Don’t sleep on them, is what I’m saying. In a year, they won’t be playing the Novo; they’ll be playing much larger venues, and the intimacy of these shows won’t be possible.

It was the first time I’ve seen Be Your Own Pet, though I’ve been listening to them for years, since I started a Spotify station with Rebel Girl and just let it go, so I could discover new music. (When Riot Grrl was at its peak, I was a really dumb boy, so I missed a lot of it. Better late than never, dumb boys.)

I came home from the show pretty late, and I was up even later while I waited for the energy and excitement of the show to fade so I could go to sleep. (A well-worn joke in my book is: I am 52 years-old. I’m tired all the time except between the hours of 10pm and 3 am.) I considered going into Fallout 76 to work on my camp, then remembered all the times I did that “real quick” for three or four hours that flew by without me noticing. So I was off to the YouTubes!

I went through my subscriptions, and ended up watching a short from this guy called Professor of Rock, who does the kind of deep dive explorations into music and its history that speak directly to my inner nerd in a form of high elvish that has mostly been forgotten. (Remember: being a nerd isn’t about what you love; it’s about the way you love it.)

I’ve learned lots of things from him over the years, but I know a lot about music myself (Willem Dafoe Meme) so it’s rare that I go “Holy shit I didn’t know that!”

Guess where I’m going with this? I learned something that not only did I not know, it reset what I thought I knew about it.

He has a video about long songs that broke the Billboard hot 100 at a time when it was exceedingly rare for anything longer than 4 minutes to get radio play. Olds like me who grew up in the 70s and 80s probably jumped way ahead of him: Stairway to Heaven, One of These Days, Side 2 of Abbey Road (called Golden Slumbers for the single version), etc.

Only none of those were on his list! Clever girl (Jurassic Park meme).

I don’t want to spoil the countdown, in case you’re going to watch it. But I do want to share one song he included, because until this weekend, I didn’t know that this version existed. This is the full album version of Inna-Gada-Davida, by Iron Butterfly:

AKA

I’ve known the story of Inna Gadda Da Vida for so long, I can’t remember when or where I learned about it. I’ve never been a particularly big fan of it, because it’s … well, it’s boring and repetitive.

Oh, but that’s the radio version that you’ve heard, Wil Wheaton, did you know there is a SEVENTEEN MINUTE VERSION THAT ROCKS YOUR FUCKING FACE RIGHT OFF?

Well, now I do, thanks to the Professor of Rock, and holy shit I’ve listened to it so many times since Saturday, I’m at risk of burning myself out. AND I’ve been listening to the whole album, which I never even gave a second look, because I didn’t like what I thought was the only version of the title song.

So thanks, Professor! It turns out that, even at 52 years-old, there are still wonderful and surprising opportunities to learn and discover new things. I appreciate the reminder.

Hey, check out my amazing segue:

If you’re into discovering new things, maybe you’ll enjoy my new podcast, It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton. Every week I narrate a new short story from authors you don’t yet know you love. It’s available wherever you get your podcasts:

And if you want to subscribe to my blog’s newsletter:

Rock on, friends.

*I love that Bella is wearing the same Kim Gordon shirt by Kathleen Hanna that I wear from time to time.

May his memory be a blessing ↩︎

in which i realize i look like at least half of a vampire

Everything is terrible, and you deserve a break from it. Allow me to serve up links to a pair of interviews I recently did, for your enjoyment and diversion.

Before I get there, I gave y’all the wrong link for my show’s Patreon. which is exactly what you want to do when you’re building a new show. The correct link is patreon.com/storytime. 80 subscribers in 48 hours is such a fantastic start! I can’t wait to share some BTS stuff and other things that don’t fit into the format of the main feed.

Okay, here are your diversions. Up first, The Greatest Trek. It’s kind of a big deal, because they don’t usually have guests!

And then, Trek Culture!

I’m noticing now, after I have done all these interviews (and another that hasn’t been announced), that the light from my window was WAY TOO BRIGHT and at least half of my face looks like a vampire. Like, if Two-Face had a vampire version, that would be awesome, and he would TOTALLY team up with Blade, but I’d rather look like a human who knows how to set up a shot and confirm the lighting is good. I mean, it’s just terrible. It isn’t even goth pale; it’s just a bad lighting setup. The old green tint from forgetting to white balance your camcorder in 1983 would be preferable to how I look in all of these things.

See, this is why I don’t like to be on camera! But I’m not yelling at myself! Progress!

I guess I have to go ahead and take Felicia’s advice and spend a little money on some equipment, lights, filters, and some other bullshit to have a more professional set up at home. Sigh. My first world, high class problems are a great way to nurture sympathy in an audience while *gestures broadly at everything*.

Y’all keep telling me that it’s okay for me to endlessly, relentlessly, continuously promote my podcast. I appreciate that. I really, really do. I also feel like all of you who subscribe to my blog or follow me on social networks already know everything you want to know, and it’s becoming tiresome.

I have no idea what is actually happening on the other side of my screen, of course, and I’m mindful that my life story has created someone who is deeply uncertain about everything he does, even when he’s pretty sure it’s all okay. I’m trying to quiet the doubt, and lean into the excitement (my keyboard needs to be cleaned, and the x just stuck, so that was ‘exxxcitement’ before I corrected it. Look, exxxcitement is definitely its own thing, and it sounds great to me, but that’s not what this project is.)

As I keep saying, I want to help this find its audience and I can’t accomplish that entirely on my own. Thank you for your patience and understanding, and a special thank you to all of you who have done the rate, review, like and subscribe things.

Okay, I’m going to the store now. Thanks for listening and have a good rest of the day. Congratulations on surviving another week of this fucking nightmare.

Here’s the obligatory link block: