The last two weeks have been incredible trip back across the last three years (and in some places, the last fifteen years) as I’ve worked on my Just A Geek rewrite . . . and I’m down to the final scene in the book, which I will finish today.
I sent the 99% completed manuscript to my editor two days ago, and after reading it, he sent back a note, that he asked I share with WWdN readers.

Hello there, friends, fans, and freaks. This is Wil’s O’Reilly editor,
piping in to let you know where Wil has been lately. As he mentioned a few days ago, I’ve been cracking the proverbial whip (well, let’s just say it’s proverbial, to protect the innocent), and figured I’d write something about “Just a Geek” while I’ve got him slaving over a keyboard. First, let me say a “Thank you” to all of you guys, who made “Dancing Barefoot” nothing short of a phenomenon–I can honestly say that signing Wil as an author was made easier by every one of you who plunked down your cash to pick up a copy. It got my attention, and eventually got Tim O’Reilly’s attention, which is why you’re going to be able to buy “Just a Geek” at every store in the nation, rather than having to order it direct. Wil’s quite happy, I hear, as he and his wife were prone to squabbling over exactly how many stamps 100 pages of nostalgia cost to ship in today’s economy.
In any case, all prelude aside, I wanted to say just a word about “Just A Geek”, as I just finished reading the 99% complete manuscript.
It’s incredible.
You want this book.
You need this book.
All brevity aside, you’re all going to be very, very pleased. Without denigrating (yes, I paid a lot of college tuition to use big words like that, thank you very much) “Dancing Barefoot” at all, “Just a Geek” is a highly polished, well-written, wonderfully crafted novel that goes so much further than any of you can imagine. It’s a lot of fun, and that’s after way too many readings. I’m not trying to get you drooling too much (well, maybe a bit), but suffice it to say that the few days you’ve lost Wil on WWdN have paid off in spades. In fact, it’s as if Wil picked up a Queen of Spades on the river to make a gutshot royal straight flush, which is a pretty big deal where I come from.
I’m confident that you’ll start to see bits and pieces of JAG show up here, on oreilly.com, and of course at Wil’s appearances, but I just thought you all deserved to know that this is going to be a killer book. I’m not a flatterer, so take that as high praise. Wil has literally busted his tail to get this done, respond to hundreds of comments, add lots of new material, and generally become a terrific author. I can honestly and happily say that while JAG is great, I expect it to be only the first full-length book; only the initial offering in a long line. We’re excited here at O’Reilly to help you guys get as much of Wil as we can… to squeeze the very life out of him while his family laments what life used to be like before writing contracts… to ensure his mother knows his voice only by memory…
Oh… sorry… I got a little caught up in being an editor again. In any case, we all love Wil here, and expect to see a lot more from him in the months to come. We’ve also got some great surprises coming along, like a potentially mind-blowing foreword to “Just a Geek”, some opportunities for collectible copies, and much more… so stay tuned, right here.
I’ll go let Wil out of his cage … er … office … in a day or two, and you’ll get to read it all here.

Wow.
Thanks, Brett. I . . . don’t know what to say. I’m really happy with the way this book has turned out . . . but I don’t think I can take credit for the entire thing. A lot of people have given me valuable feedback along the way, including you.
I’m really not supposed to do this, but I’m going to share a tiny glimpse of what I’m finishing up today. Don’t tell anyone, okay?

I had my final costume fitting the next day, and the day after that, I found myself at the Melrose Avenue guard shack, half-an-hour early for my 8:30 am call time.
“ID, please.” The guard said.
I pulled my driver’s license out of my wallet, and gave it to him.
“And where are you going today . . . ” he looked at my license. “Wil?”
“I’m working on Star Trek.” I said.
“Enterprise or Nemesis?”
The Next Generation.
“Nemesis,” I said. “I play Wesley Crusher.”
He looked up at me. “Oh my god. You are Wesley Crusher. You look so . . . ”
Washed up?
“. . . grown up.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s been a long time.”
“Do you know where to park?”
“Yeah. But I don’t know where our dressing rooms are.”
But I do! I do know where our dressing rooms are! They’re trailers on the street in front of stages 8 and 9. Mine is filled with Warhammer 40K figures and GURPS books. It’s right next to Brent’s trailer. It’s 1989, and I’m back. I’m back home.
“Okay,” he said, and gave me directions to an area on the lot where I’d never been before.
I parked my car, and picked up my backpack. Inside was my script, a notepad, and a few tapes: Only A Lad, Music For The Masses, and Squeeze: Singles 45 and Under . . . all of them music I listened to when I was working on the series. I remember, when I put them in my backpack, that I thought to myself, “Maybe I can sit in my trailer, listen to ‘Never Let Me Down,’ and imagine that I never left.”
I locked up my car, and walked toward the dressing rooms. Other than the addition of a back lot, Paramount hadn’t changed in any substantial way since I was on the show, and my thoughts drifted as I walked down those familiar streets on auto-pilot.
That’s where I met Eddie Murphy when I was sixteen . . . Hey! I crashed a golf cart there when I was fifteen . . . There’s the mail room . . . There’s stage six, where the bridge set started out . . . I almost got up the courage to kiss that girl at the Christmas party on that stage in . . . there’s the stage where Shatner told me, “I’d never let a kid come onto my bridge” . . . this street feels exactly the way it did when I worked here . . . here’s where my trailer used to be . . .
I stopped, and tears filled my eyes — tears of joy: It’s so good to be here, mingled with tears of sadness and regret: Why didn’t this happen years ago?
Because I wasn’t ready for it to happen. I walked a few more steps, and looked into the foyer that led into stages 8 and 9. Enterprise lives there now. At least they kept the stage in the family.

Okay. Back to work.