I walked out of the loading dock, through a cloud of rotting garbage, and into the alleyway behind the theater. A curtain of rain fell between me and my destination, a little over a block away.
“Do you want to wait here, while I get you an umbrella?” Liz, the producer from Wizards of the Coast, asked me.
“No,” I said, stepping into the rain, extending my arms outward and turning my palms and face to the sky, “it’s been so long since I felt rain fall on my body, I’m not going to let this opportunity pass me by.”
I walked down the sidewalk, surrounded by other PAX attendees. Some were not bothered by the rain, while others held up programs and newspapers and other things to keep it away. A man walked his dog next to me. The dog was unperturbed by the weather. We got to the corner and waited for the light to change. The rain intensified and it was glorious.
“Are you sure this is okay?” She said.
“Oh yes, this is so much more than okay,” I answered, “this is perfect.”
Earlier
Les Baxter’s soothing sounds were not soothing at 6am. Quiet Village played on my phone, which was, by comparison, better to wake up to as an alarm than an actual alarm’s jarring screech. Still, at 6am, the only thing I want to hear is whatever is in my dreams.
I dragged myself out of bed, silenced my alarm, and started my day.
Coffee.
Muffin.
Shower.
Hairstyle.
Retry hairstyle.
Beard oil.
Retry hairstyle.
Brush teeth.
Give up and accept hairstyle.
Elevator.
Lobby.
“Good morning,” April, from Wizards of the Coast, said.
“LIES!” I said with a smile.
“Can I get you a coffee?”
“Yes. You can get me all the coffee.”
“How would you like your coffee?” A new guy asked me, joining us. “I’m Brad from Wizards,” he told me.
“Angry. I want a big cup of angry coffee.”
We all laughed as Ashly Burch joined us.
“Good morning, Ashly,” April said.
“More lies,” I said, “there is no such thing as a good morning at bullshit o’clock.”
We went on like this for a few more minutes, my anti-morning sass offset by Ashly’s relentless happiness and positivity. Coffees in hand, we walked out of our hotel and a few blocks away to the theater where we were hosting the Battle for Zendikar preview show for Wizards of the Coast, thirteen hours in the future.
Rehearsal went as well as a rehearsal can at 7am (bullshit o’clock plus one hour, if you’re scoring on the Wheaton Clock), and a second run through was legitimately good. The point of the thing was to introduce a bunch of new cards that are about to come out in the Battle for Zendikar set, and to do it in a way that was hopefully amusing to the people on the room, and the Magic fans watching on the Internet. In a little over thirteen hours, we’d know if we succeeded.
I thanked everyone for a good couple of run throughs, went back to my hotel, and took a nap. I woke up, ate a sandwich, and took another nap. Then I woke up for real, went downstairs, and headed back into PAX to play Magic against as many people as I could in two hours.
If the presentation was the work, this was going to be the fun. I haven’t played Magic competitively in well over ten years, and I’ve only played casually in the last five or six years. Until I started preparing for this weekend, I didn’t know what was happening in the story of Magic, and there were a lot of current mechanics that I wasn’t familiar with. But I did a ton of homework, and with the help of some friends (especially my friend, Graham Stark, who really held my hand through the whole process), I entered the battlefield, as ready as I could be against players who dueled on a regular basis.
In the story of Magic, the world of Zendikar is currently being attacked by a species of terrifying creatures called the Eldrazi. These creatures are massive and ancient and hungry. They are so hungry, they devour everything in whatever plane they happen to invade. From their point of view, this isn’t a bad thing (they just want to scoop up everything available at the buffet), but from the point of view of literally every other living thing in the multiverse, the Eldrazi need to be stopped and contained. So these powerful Planeswalkers used the magic inherent to Zendikar along with these things called Hedrons to trap the Eldrazi there. Everything was great for a few thousand years, but now things are not so great. The Eldrazi are awake, hungry, and anxious to get back to feeding, starting with Zendikar itself.
That’s where I and a bunch of really cool and interesting people come in. We all played the role of the Eldrazi, in duels against players who were the representing the Zendikari. I had one deck that was built around summoning these massive Eldrazi creatures, and the players had their choice of three different decks that used different strategies, according to their skill level.
The players were, literally, battling for Zendikar. When a certain number of player victories were achieved, the image of an Eldrazi creature on a huge screen would be replaced with the image of a preview card from the next set, Battle for Zendikar. It was a clever and fun way for Magic fans to both duel against some cool and interesting people (or me), while they also worked as a group to get a first look at what’s coming up next in the game they love to play.
It was incredibly fun. I’m not good at Magic by any objective measure, and I’m certainly not going to offer any kind of meaningful challenge to a player who is experienced in tournament play … but I am pretty good at playing a role, and in these duels I was playing the role of the bad guys, which is something I’m fairly comfortable — some may even say good at — doing.
I learned how my deck was constructed with the help of Rich Hagon, a Pro Tour announcer. “You want to stay alive long enough to get enough mana to cast these big creatures,” he told me. “It won’t be easy, but when you can hit them, you’ll hit them hard.”
“Back when I played regularly, I liked to play with small, fast, ‘death by a thousand cuts’ decks, so this is the opposite of my preferred playing style,” I told him. “I think it’s going to be fun to get out of my comfort zone and do something different.”
Rich wished me luck, we discussed the possibility of him joining me for Tabletop next season, and I got ready to go to work. Well, I mean, to play. Even though I was technically working, I was actually actually playing in the way people play for enjoyment. Playing was also my job for the next few hours, so I guess I was going to work to play. Which was for work. But mostly for play.
Still with me? Good.
I got wrecked in my first game, which gave me tons of mana but not a lot of creatures. I won my second game, using a bunch of smaller creatures to absorb damage from the other player while I got more and more lands into play, finally casting a couple of Eldrazi who were very big and very nasty, including Ulamog the Infinite Gyre.
Win or lose, though, a couple of things happened in every duel:
- I had a really good time, and so did the other player.
- None of the people I played with traded the joy of playing for the pursuit of winning.
- Every player told me how excited they were to play with me, and that they’d been hoping I’d be the Eldrazi (from the more than twenty possible players) they’d face.
This last thing was really awesome, because I could feel how happy it made these people to play with me. I’ve been feeling pretty much the opposite of awesome for several weeks, now, and actually getting to sit down, face to face, in a semi-quiet few moments with real people who wanted to be there with me was … restorative, I guess is the best word. One player told me, “Thank you for everything you do. From Tabletop to Titansgrave — which is the best thing I’ve ever seen — to talking so openly about anxiety and depression.” He then destroyed me, with the final life counts being -8 for me, and 43 for him. It was awesome.
Part of my Depression is this voice that never stops telling me that I suck. Part of my Depression is this constant fear that everyone will know how afraid of failure I am. Part of my Depression is this relentless worrying, in the face of mountains of evidence to the contrary, that I’m never going to do anything that matters.
I know that all of those thoughts — occasionally sincerely held beliefs, even — aren’t rational. I know that they are intrusive and part of depression lying, but when the depression and anxiety are very strong and very loud and I’m feeling very sad about some things, the guard who sits between my rational mind and my irrational emotions is easy to sneak past, and when Depression sees that happen, it makes the most of the opportunity.
I was really worried that I was going to suck when I did the presentation with Ashly on Saturday night. I was really worried that Magic players — who aren’t exactly renowned for being the most welcoming and inclusive people on the planet — wouldn’t give me a chance, because I don’t play as frequently or intensely as they do. I was worried that I would be tired and that I would make stupid mistakes that made me look unprepared. Depression saw all of that, and it pounced. I was, basically, a big ball of anxiety up until the moment the presentation was finished, and for a fair amount of time after, too.
I did make some stupid mistakes, but I thought I pulled out of them in an entertaining way (the folks who hired me told me they liked what I did, and the writers of the script were pleased with what I did, so I’ll let them judge). Ashly was perfect, and she made us both look better than I deserved. But I really did have fun talking with Mark Rosewater, who is the head designer for Magic, when we revealed to the world the preview cards we showed during the duels, and some others (like full frame dual lands) that made Magic fans go bananas.
(If you can spell bananas without Gwen Stefani doing it for you in your head, you’re missing out on something great.)
So putting it all together, it was a good and successful event. Yeah, the people who hate something that I do because I did it are always there, and yeah the type of Magic player who needs to be a gatekeeper didn’t like it, and there were some people who just didn’t like it because it wasn’t what they were looking for. All of that is totally fine, of course, but they were outnumbered by at least 20:1, and maybe even more.
But all of that isn’t even the best part of the day, or even the trip, for me.
The best part of the day came at the end of my last duel. The guy I was playing with was kicking my ass. I was down to, I think, 5 or 7 life, and he was still close to 20. I got super lucky and was able to play a card that wipes everything off the table that isn’t colorless, which cleared off all his creatures and gave me a couple of rounds to get out Ulamog, who went to work destroying all of his lands and creatures, and then devouring him. With the win, I finished 4 and 3 on the afternoon.
I extended my hand and thanked him for playing, because it was a genuinely fun and challenging match. He took my hand and he said, “I was really hoping that I’d get to play with you, because you saved my life.” Before I could respond, he continued, “everything you’ve written and shared about anxiety and depression helped me get treatment for my own mental health.”
It’s not the first time someone has said something like this to me, but this guy and I had spent about twenty minutes playing a game together, and we’d sort of bonded a little bit, the way people do when they’re playing a game. I felt an unexpected swell of emotion, and I said, “I’m really happy to know that I could help you the way Jenny Lawson helped me. I have to tell you that I haven’t been feeling very awesome lately, and the last few weeks have really been a struggle. In fact, I’ve had to take [medication] every day this week just to get through the day.”
He laughed. “Me too!”
“The thing I think we have to remember is that there is no finish line with depression, anxiety, or any other sort of mental illness. We’re on this path, and the path is constantly changing. Sometimes it’s flat and well-marked, and we can see all the way to the horizon.” I realized that I had gone from shaking his hand to holding it. “Other times, it’s so heavily shrouded in fog and mist, we can’t even see past our fingertips and we need someone to show us where the path is. And sometimes, we come to a wall that we don’t think we’ll ever get over. I’ve been staring at the base of that wall for weeks, and just now you helped me remember that there are always handholds to get up and over it.”
“You were one of my handholds,” he said, with a squeeze of my hand.
And that’s when we both began to cry.
“I’m sorry,” I said, wiping tears off my cheeks, “it’s been a really shitty few weeks, and you just really, really made me feel better about myself.”
We began to laugh through the tears, and when we composed ourselves, we took a picture together.
“Thanks for playing with me,” I said, “and thanks for … everything else, too.”
“You’re welcome,” he said.
“Play more games!” I said.
“I will!”
The announcer told the crowd that we were about to reveal another new card, and there was much rejoicing.
Later
I had a little less than an hour between finishing the games and starting the presentation.
Again, I walked back to the hotel to change my clothes. I reflected on my final duel, and another, similar conversation I had with a different player right after it that is so deeply personal I’m not going to recount it.
It was raining, again. I looked up into it, again, and let the rain fall on my face.
Wil – you were awesome on Saturday night. I watched the show on Sunday as the live show was a 4am Uk time, but I think you all did a really great job!
Great post. I was very happy to see you on Dark Space last week. A conflicted bad guy fit you well. Stay happy.
Way to be a guiding voice for those that are struggling!
Play more games, Wil. Thanks for sharing.
Wow Wil, you struc quite the nerve with me right there. I am so glad you write these things. I hope I can meet you one day to shake your hand and tell you you’re my hero man. Keep on keeping on and never stop being awesome!
Once again you reminded me how thrilling and scaring it is to be a creative person. Thank you. Thank you for reminding me to really listen to my H.S. costume crew – for what they and what they don’t say and then have the courage to reach out to them. My mom battled depression her entire life. I count myself lucky that I don’t have to work that hard to get through a single day. I am in awe of people like you who do the battle. Keep blogging – you are helping so many people. And yes, walking in the rain without an umbrella is FUN!
Wil, you are allowed to suck sometimes. It’s ok. There has been a vast array of entertainment over the years that featured people sucking at what they attempt. Eddie the Eagle, Jamaican bobsledders, most winners on America’s Funniest videos. We love rooting for the guy that screws up. So it’s ok if it happens.
But I am a little jealous that you had that awesome of a weekend.
Thank so much for sharing that. And your journey with that asshole Depression. You’re good people.
I am 60 years old and have never had anyone describe me so well. thank you for sharing.
Neat post. There truly is no finish line. Wisdom, Yo.
Bullshit-o-clock! Haha… I went to bed at BSOC last night. Three weeks from my biggest annual event. It gets busy this time of year. Thanks for a nice break from the chisel & finger-plane. 😉
As someone currently staring at that wall, thank you for saying this so clearly, so lovingly, so very honestly. Your bravery has not gone unnoticed.
Thank you for sharing. What you said to that guy, touched me in a way that I started crying a little. I’m into week 3 or 4 of my senior year in high school and right now, I feel like I’m at that wall that I don’t think I’ll get over. There are days when I just want to curl up, cry, and let everything go on, but I know I can’t. Yesterday, I was so mentally and physically exhausted that I just managed to drag myself through the day and through homework (I did manage to not do my Calc work though). This post gave me that boost I need right now to keep on trucking along and make it over my wall. So, thank you for sharing, I wish you well. Sidenote: I love your writing. It pulls me in and captures me in a way that only a few things truly have.
High school is a bitch! Be good to yourself, your future will be worth it.
Heya Wil, Met you a bazillion years ago on “Tales of Glamour and Excess”. A friend of mine posted this blog on Fb and I was reminded of the great person I met all those years ago. Not a celeb, not NOT a celeb, just a person I connected with and liked. I hope you keep on keeping on! I dig all the what not I see you involved in. Thanks for being yourself! You are a wonderful person and an Inspiration.
Good stuff. I’ve struggled with these issues for 25yrs.i truly is day-to-day. What seems to help me reset is the most banal – stop and take as deep a breath as I’m able. Helps break the cycle of negative thoughts.
Keep trucking.
Love and respect,
Kai
How you are magic for real: this. Thank you, sir, for the tears I can barely see around. I wish I had seen you play or work or play or work (like the cat going outside or inside or outside or inside). So lovely and human.
You are an insperation to all. Thanks for sharing!
You just made me cry. I like many other suffer from this terrible terrible disorder anxiety is the worst part. You have good days and bad days good weeks and bad weeks good months and bad months…then there are the meds little life savers in time of dire need its easy to become dependent on these things it gets so bad that you forget that just someone who is there in the same hole as you just offering some kind words can be just as life saving
I didn’t get through reading this without tears, the honesty and empathy you continually show the world is like sunlight to me. Thank you. Also, I loved your writing style as you explained the early part of your morning!
Just having a bad day and this made it better. I am a fellow bloggess fan.
Thank you Wil for your articulation of some very important things. Important to many, especially to me.
Be well.
I enjoyed this and thought you and some of your readers would, too. Mardy Fish, professional tennis player, on his anxiety: http://www.theplayerstribune.com/mardy-fish-us-open/
It’s been a crappy and anxiety ridden day for me. So I thought to myself “maybe Wil has posted something helpful on his blog”. What are the odds that it would be a post so beautifully written and so amazing sincere.
Not sure if you’ll see this, but thanks Wil. Honestly thank you.
Thank you. It’s always going to be a struggle. Sometimes I think it’s meant to be a struggle. But then people like you post things like this, and… well, it doesn’t get easier to keep putting one boot in front of the other. But a reminder that it’s worth doing is never amiss.
Wil, you are awesome. I have been up, procrastinating on the internet even though I am exhausted, because my anxiety wouldn’t let me sleep. All the feelings of overwhelm and the fear of failure…but this was beautiful, and it brought tears to my eyes. I too feel less alone. I haven’t commented the way I used to (parenthood taking its toll on my time), but I’ve been a fan of your blog for years and years, and your creative resurgence has been fantastic to watch. And I’ve always loved your tales from stepdad-land, and your Star Trek reminiscences…anyway, I ramble. Thank you for the journey.
I wait all year for the few months we get in Pennsylvania to enjoy the greatest free therapy around–a great drenching summer rainstorm. It’s great for clearing the rattling out of your head sometimes.
It’s also great to see how your openness about your struggles with depression has helped so many people, millions that you’ll probably never meet, including me. It’s always encouraging to know that I’m not alone when life gets me so far down that a VERY permanent solution to a temporary problem (suicide) starts to look like a good idea.
Hang in there when you start to think you suck. We all have sucky days, but they help us appreciate the good ones.
You know, for as much as you’ve accomplished in the past 15-odd years, your advocacy and openness about this may be the most important work you’ll ever do. I’m currently in a long recovery (physical and otherwise) from a botched suicide attempt, and… well, no words are ever “enough,” not even close — but once in awhile some of them at least make it a tiny bit easier to hold on a tiny bit harder for a tiny while longer.
Depression lies — but as long as it hasn’t yet killed us, it can’t kill our capacity for truth. Keep finding the words for those truths and making them heard… including, please, always, to yourself.
qaStaHvIS yIn ‘ej chep. ‘ej reH ghaH, jupwI’ tlhIH.
You brought tears to my eyes, Wil.
Your willingness to be vulnerable and admit to someone that you’re feeling shitty is not only incredibly moving, but incredibly powerful. Because you’re modeling what it means to be honest and stand in your truth, even if it’s not pretty or “nice”.
This resonated deeply with me. I struggle with anxiety. My thoughts tell me I’m a fraud, I’m unloveable…the list goes on. And it’s a daily battle to face myself and find a way through it to the light. Some days/weeks it’s really easy. Other times, it’s…brutal and feels like I’m dragging myself through glass.
I think the hardest part in dealing with this is that burden of feeling like you have to protect the people around you from your darkness. Assuring your loved ones, partner(s), friends that you’re “just having a bad day” or “just feeling a little off”, when inside everything in you is wanting to curl up and never see the light of day again.
Stories like yours, stories that are so vulnerable and honest and raw, are what lifts us all up. Your courage gives us courage, which allows us to be courageous and vulnerable for others.
You’re beautiful.
What an amazing post — the stories behind it, naturally, but also the writing. I’ve only recently started following your blog, and there’s a lot of disconnect (yeah, I like games, but I don’t play much; I’m not much of a beer drinker). But whatever, we’re geeks, we’ve got our interests and passions, and I can celebrate yours, even if they’re not mine.
This, and the “walk to me” post, are so touching and heart-warming. I hope you get all the love and support you need, because certainly you’ve extended so much of that to others.
Here’s to you, good sir.
Jenny Lawson and through her to this blog and you, helped me articulate my depression clearly to my doctor and I got help, good help, and I feel stronger than I have in decades.
Seconding this.
Thank you, Wil (and Jenny).
Will I have always admired your Peter Pan attitude and look on life, and knowing you love the rain as much as I do… just makes me feel a bit of a kinship… your right… rain on the face is an amazing feeling that can reboot you into such an amazing day!
Although my arm isn’t really 3000 miles long, it’s around your shoulder. Yes, there are times I haven’t liked what a character you’ve played has done but I’ve always admired the actor Wil Wheaton and, as the years have gone on, I’ve come to admire the person Wil Wheaton.
You’re always better than you think you are and you’re always stronger than you think you can be. Please don’t ever forget that. And remember that there are others like you out there and your words of encouragement mean so much to us.
Now, after reading this entry, I need to find some place where it’s raining.
What an awesome blog! Very much interesting to read. I will continues reading this when I come back from work. Love! Love! Love!
I watched the show at 4;30 in the morning and in my opinion both of you did a good job. Don’t let yourself be run down by others!
I’ve experienced myself that it is impossible to satisfy everyone, especially in your case with such a huge audience.
You named some important things in your blog. Let’s not forget that we*re all human and step away from the “everyone and everything has to be perfect ar all times” – attitude.
Have a nice day and keep going on!
Thanks for this Wil. I’ve been suffering from chronic pain and was hit last weak with an awful spike which resulted in two days in hospital, followed by another two days as I had an allergic reaction to something that the doctors couldn’t treat. After nearly 10 months of constant pain and worry, lsat week was the first time I’d just sat in front of the doctors and cried, sat in front of my mother and sister and cried, and cried on the phone whilst explaining everything to my boss.
I love reading your blog because he helps me to see ways of coping, and to see that even people such as yourself, who come across as so happy, confident and successful, have the doubts, and the upset, and it’s not just me.
You made me cry again. But in a good way. Tonight I shall use my coping mechanism of doing some writing and convincing people to give me short stories to publish.
If you did nothing else of consequence (past, present, or future) except write about you anxiety and depression, you would have done a lot. And you have done other things, too, which beats my record all to pieces.
Thank you for being honest.
Thank you for being an awesome normal guy who lets it all hang out. I am so afraid to tell people about my mental illnesses. It’s so much easier to talk about my physical problems. You have given me courage though, by your very candid way. Keep being real and honest, and I’ll always be there to listen!
Dreams are just weird. I thought I would let you know. That for some reason two nights this week I dreamed about you. It was so strange because I only watch shows on net flix and hulu. I haven’t even been watching star trek or anything.
They weren’t bad dreams in the dream you were identified as a very familiar person in my life.
I admit when the show was popular I didn’t miss an episode of star treck the next generation.
Just imagine what triggered dreams about you. I haven’t seen anything you have done for months except a few appearances in the big bang theory.
Dreams are just strange. I did see that video you did where you talked about mental health issues. In that sense I can relate to you. Because I have been treated for a mental illness. To make this short as possible. I was on social security. I fought very hard to get off of it. I’m now working full time with the mentally ill or challenged.
So maybe that is why you are popping into my dreams because I found something I can relate to with you. Besides the fact I use to love to play role playing games. Its just so fun.
Anyways hope you don’t mind my random thoughts.
meant just can’t imagine. Sorry error.
You are totally awesome. 🙂 The postcard you signed at Gencon for my wife’s birthday still comes out as her best gift and holds a place of honor. You made my Gencon. And her 40th birthday.
It may not be much, but you bring so much happy to so many people. I hope that brings a bit of happy back to you.
I’ve been aware of you since Star Trek, but I haven’t followed you all that closely. This is the first time I’ve seen you write on your depression. But being someone who also suffers with that voice, when I saw this post linked from FB, I just had to come give it a read. You express it very well indeed. For myself, I work in computers, and I’m an autodidact… Meaning that I can’t even point to a degree to counter the voice. And being ADD boy, I’ve really struggled in some of my gigs, which also feeds the voice. Struggling with this the whole of my adult life, I’d just resigned myself to never being able to live up to standards I seem to have inherited from my father. Reading your words caused me to be able to step back, outside of myself, and see this dynamic for the first time. I wasn’t even consciously aware that I had this sense of failure and never being able to live up to my values, much less that they actually weren’t mine, but my dad’s. For whatever it may be worth to your voice, it is the first time I’ve had the ability to look at my voice from the outside. I can’t tell what difference that will make, but I can already tell it will be huge. Thank you.
Goddammit, now you made me cry too. Both the writing and the feeling of connection through your struggle — well done, Mr. Wheaton.
Now I just read a bunch of comments and cried again.
Sorry that this comment is completely off topic to the focus of your post. (although it strangely resonated with a brief dive I took into Blade Runner last week when I learned the Tears in the Rain speech was re-written by Rutger Hauer the night before the scene was shot)
Your description of your involvement with the début of new game cards reminded me of the SF novel Dream Park by Larry Niven.
I’m assuming you have read the book because of its direct gaming tie-in but just in case:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dream_Park
Gaming in the story involves a bit of high tech not quite possible today but the story touches on the importance of a good public introduction of games and game elements. Do you think the gaming industry is moving along towards that world view? (money and marketing not even remotely there but moving in that direction?) Being more mainstream is usually a good thing but being more like Hollywood, probably not so good.
Everyone I have loaned that book to has really liked the ideas and the atmosphere you described in this post felt a lot like the world in that book. Given that a real Dream Park is not soon possible, I have always wished someone would make that into a movie but I’ll just have to be happy with the book (although it is an RPG). It’s been like 30 years since I read the book, I was surprised that just a few sentences brought it back to my memory. Now I’ll probably have to go back and re-read it.
Thanks for this post. The hardest thing to remember during a period of depression is to reach out your hand to someone. When you hate yourself, it is hard to imagine that connecting with another human can help, and probably will help. I appreciate your openness on this subject. You just made my day!
Wil, I’ve been thinking of saying this for a while and this seems like as good a place as any to do it. Thank you for all that you do. As someone who is just beginning my journey of dealing with depression, your honesty in writing about your experiences has been very helpful. While there were other factors that helped push me to get help, your writing made it much easier for me to take that step. Knowing what to expect before taking those steps was also very useful.
I also love Tabletop and Titansgrave! Thanks for being you!
Good on ya, Dave. Remember: it’s a journey, and you are not alone on the path.
Will, I don’t suffer from Depression, but I have friends who do. You have always been an idol of mine that I have looked up to and admired. This article made me cry and remember all the things we can do to help those we love and admire.
In 2012, I was at Gencon and was working for an organization that was raising money for the victims of the Aurora CO Theater shooting. My friend Shane Hensley of Pinnacle Games was having a bunch of his team sign a new Deadlands book to donate to the Charity Auction we were holding. Imagine my surprise when I collected the book and saw that you had also signed it. That book and the other items I had collected from the Con raised over $10,000 for the victims and families.
Never, ever think you are not good enough! Always know that you helped us do that for those families. You are an amazing individual and you are a role model, not just for me, but for hundreds of people that you have helped over the years. If you are ever in Denver, I would love to have the chance to thank you in person. Please keep doing what it is you do, for the geeks and the mundanes and all of those victims and their families that you have helped over the years through the small gestures that you make and the large.
Thank you
Wow! You give such a great description of anxiety and depression. The last week has been tough with anxiety for me and it’s so awesome to know I’m not alone in this, that I’m not the only one needing meds to help. Thank you Wil for being so honest with us! It really helps to know I’m not alone!
Some days I wake up and I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. I don’t know what outfit I’m wearing or how I look because I know that no matter what if I look I will see the horror that is me. I don’t watch my web show because it traumatizes me. I am exhausted today because I spent the whole day talking to people to promote an event I am helping run and at every turn I was convinced that people thought I was a disgusting, fat pig of a joke. However, during all of this I am like a popular cartoon fish and I “just keep swimming.” I know this doesn’t matter and it sounds contrived but I am proud of you Wil because it would be so easy to make a cave and hide in it but you keep going, you keep pushing, you get out there, you brave the fog and the dangers that lie within it and “just keep swimming.” I know you will never see this but I needed to write this down because I wanted to relieve the pain in my chest and let the universe know that my insignificant voice is raised with everyone else’s to let the powers that be know that you are amazing and kind and special and you have made a difference. Thank you and keep it up.
Wil,
Years ago, I had the pleasure of meeting you twice in San Francisco, once at Macworld and once at BN (I believe you were reading). You didn’t know me from Adam, but you stayed to listen and talk with me about what you’d written on the topic of parenting. I think you’re an excellent parent, and I’ve always included you on my short list of good examples to follow.
For the record, my is is pretty doggone awesome.
Also for the record: So are you. Never forget.
Ugh. My kid is pretty awesome. DYAC.
Loved the rain…..
Are … are you, um … are you the Larry Elmore? Like, the Larry Elmore who defined what fantasy artwork looked like for me when I was a kid?
I’ve been staring at this cursor for twenty minutes trying to figure out what to say when both Wil and Larry might see it. I know fans can sometimes be an endless wave of people who think they know you, and that being Larry and Wil you’ve put out such a wake through the set of people worth knowing, but to meet you both in the crossroads like this has left me dumbstruck.
I too love the rain.