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 Podcasts
• PocketCast
• Stitcher
• Spotify
• Pandora
• iHeart
• Amazon
• or 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.