Category: Television

i can finally talk about something i worked on!

Posted on By Wil

It feels like it was about 18 months ago, but could be as long as three years ago, that my friend told me about a TV show he was developing. It was a brilliant idea, I thought. A science fiction action comedy? YES PLEASE. It was funny, and clever, and entirely original, which was wild, considering it was a spin-off.

The show did get the green light, and it premieres July 23. If you have not figured this out, yet, the show is Stuart Fails to Save the Universe. My friend is Bill Prady, who also co-created The Big Bang Theory.

AND AND AND … I am co-hosting the companion podcast with Felicia Day! The trailed for our thing dropped a few hours ago.

Felicia and I will interview a ton of our real life friends from the cast1, and some genuinely amazing department heads. We get into some of the deep nerd shit in each episode (that’s kinda my thing), and just have all kinds of fun working together. Okay, that’s probably more than I can tell you without getting a stern look from a twentysomething who I technically report to. I may be getting at least a sideways glance, as it is.

I have so many things I want to say about the series, which I loved from start to finish, but I’ll get so much worse than a stern look if I even think about that, so allow me to merely say that I endorse it and hope you trust me.

Stuart Fails to Save the Universe is on HBO Max. We are also on HBO Max, the HBO Max YouTube channel, and wherever you get your podcasts. And, hey, while you’re looking for podcasts, maybe check out It’s Storytime With Wil Wheaton.

Thanks for reading. If you’d like to get my posts delivered to your inbox, here’s the thingy:

  1. You will hear me, more than once, excitedly celebrate the feeling that someone from the neighborhood made it big in Hollywood. It’s not a bit; I’m genuinely thrilled for my friends. ↩︎

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.

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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.

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a year later, a photo and memory dump from star trek the cruise vii.

Posted on By Wil

This month has been such an awful year, my sense of time is … “weird” is the best I can come up with … in a way it hasn’t been since the lockdown days, when every day felt like Friday, and it never felt like the weekend.

Anyway. When I woke up this morning and plucked the rectangle of doom from its charger, I fumbled it (like you do) and bumped the screen with my thumb as it slipped from my hand and tumbled to the floor, alarm screeching. I groaned, dragged myself out of bed, and then I carefully and mindfully bent over to pick it up because my body is just being such an asshole about the whole I’m fifty-two-almost-fifty-three situation. I silenced the alarm as I cursed the guy who set it for me yesterday.

At some point in the fall to the floor, the rectangle must have switched modes from endless delivery of doom to have some joyful memories because if you look like someone who is going to throw me into a volcano if I don't, because when I slid my thumb across the face to shut it up, it revealed a collage it had made me, from one year ago, when Anne and I were on Star Trek: The Cruise. Oh, little phone I didn’t know I’d have to name FuckTrump all over again when these pictures were taken, I can’t stay mad at you.

This morning’s bedhead went on a milkshake date, did some fun nerdy stuff, watched his favorite human hit one of the jackpots on a slot machine, and watched the sunset.

And I gotta tell you, the joyful memories were abundant, retrieved by all my senses and delivered to me in 7.1 4K Mega Digital Super Surround-o-Rama.

I remembered the kindness shown to me by literally every single passenger I encountered. How everyone gently respected my boundaries, how delightful it was to notice something in the decor that was an easter egg for nerds like me.

All it takes is a few graphics to turn a boring cruise ship elevator into a starship turbolift.
He was so patient while I nerded out and took a selfie.
Right after this picture, I asked him if knew where I could find Tuvix. It was awkward, I admit.

I remembered the hours I had the privilege to spend backstage with my extended Star Trek family, with my Space Mom and Space Little Brother I Never Knew About, before going on stage to perform with them for an audience that wanted to love us.

The Crusher Family Therapy Hour With Todd Stashwick was the first time I’d done improv in years. It was so much fun.

I remembered how great it felt to walk off every stage I was on, feeling like we met their expectations. (I didn’t remember, but was reminded by my blog, that I risked a raw, emotional, vulnerable performance, and was rewarded with a standing ovation.)

I walked off that ship feeling energized, inspired, grateful to be part of something so special, and I didn’t realize until this moment how much I needed to feel the memory of that, right now.

The 2025 cruise is happening as I write this, and I’m envious of my friends and family who are part of it … but I’m also really happy for them and my fellow nerds, because I remember.

I sent this picture to my godson, and he sent back “Who are you supposed to be in that picture? Is it AI?” I guess my sister hasn’t introduced him to Star Trek.
“Mom, I want Wesley.”
“We have Wesley at home.”
Wesley at home:

Thanks for reading, friends. I hope this finds you well. Before you go, if you haven’t subscribed to updates, I’d love for you to do that. I have an incredible announcement coming, and I don’t want you to miss it. (That’s why these horrible reminders are all over the place). A huge thank you and terrorist fist jab to the 13,000 of you who got this in email! I appreciate you.

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a couple of og star trek kids, talking about what it is like to be the og star trek kids

Posted on By Wil

Cirroc Lofton played Jake Sisko on Deep Space Nine. I played Wesley Crusher on The Next Generation.

And before this week, he and I never talked about it, which is something that’s been on my mind since we saw each other at the Star Trek: Picard season 3 premiere.

This week, things finally lined up and I was a guest on his show, The 7th Rule. We talked about The Game, our space families, and what it means to be the og star trek kids.

I’ve embedded it below, or you can follow this link to watch it.

And while I have your attention, I wanted to share this exciting bit of news: I narrated Bill Gates’ memoir, Source Code.

Here’s the description:

The origin story of one of the most influential and transformative business leaders and philanthropists of the modern age

The business triumphs of Bill Gates are widely known: the twenty-year-old who dropped out of Harvard to start a software company that became an industry giant and changed the way the world works and lives; the billionaire many times over who turned his attention to philanthropic pursuits to address climate change, global health, and U.S. education.
 
Source Code is not about Microsoft or the Gates Foundation or the future of technology. It’s the human, personal story of how Bill Gates became who he is today: his childhood, his early passions and pursuits. It’s the story of his principled grandmother and ambitious parents, his first deep friendships and the sudden death of his best friend; of his struggles to fit in and his discovery of a world of coding and computers in the dawn of a new era; of embarking in his early teens on a path that took him from midnight escapades at a nearby computer center to his college dorm room, where he sparked a revolution that would change the world.
 
Bill Gates tells this, his own story, for the first time: wise, warm, revealing, it’s a fascinating portrait of an American life.

I didn’t want to let the work get dry and academic, which is a real possibility when doing someone else’s memoir, so I treated it as if I were playing a character, the character of Bill Gates, who is telling you this story of his remarkable young life, and the founding of his company. I got into his head, into his character, and did all the work I would have done if I were playing him on camera or on stage. I’m so proud of how it all turned out. I would never be cast to play him on camera, and it’s the kind of work that isn’t really recognized in my industry the way on camera is, but that doesn’t diminish it in any way. I am so grateful that I got to do it.

It released last week, and I am intensely proud of it. We talk about it a bit in this podcast, that I feel like I leveled up my skills when I was doing Source Code (and Picks & Shovels, and When The Moon Hits Your Eye), and it’s some of the best work I’ve ever done.