I promise this isn’t going to turn into "The Happiest Days Reviews: in Exile." It’s just that I needed to come up for air for a minute, and saw this review of Happiest Days at Tech Universe:

Reading the well-written Happiest Days
was a fun experience, and you can’t help but feel like Wheaton is
telling you these stories himself . . .and these really are some happy and fun stories,
including one about his love of Star Wars action figures, or his family
run for the Susan G. Komen foundation, or his great poker game . . . or even his return to the stages
that once housed Star Trek: The Next Generation, where he played Wesley Crusher.

I
have to hand it to Wil, he brought back my own memories. I think he’s
around three years older than I am, and I fell in love with Star Wars
figures at the same time; I was stuck wearing corduroys in the late
70s/early 80s (thank God they went out of style by the time my family
moved to South Florida in 1984), and more.

Two themes are emerging in reviews and reader comments and e-mails: it feels like we’re sitting together (possibly in a nice pub, having a few pints) while I tell you these stories myself, and the stories I tell are awakening shared memories from readers who, like me, are in Generation X.

Last night, I packaged the remaining hardcover book orders. I’ll take all the domestic orders to the post office a little later today, and Anne and I will get started on the customs forms for the international orders just as soon as I get this writing assignment finished so I make my deadline a week from now. It’s a cool fiction project that I should be able to talk about relatively soon, but at the moment I’m in a serious panic over it. Once again, I wish I could stop time, or at least slow it down.

(Speaking of stopping time, is anyone else totally over Heroes this season? I haven’t been this disappointed by a series since the third season of Lost.)

My friend Dr. Pauly reviewed The Happiest Days of Our Lives!

Very few authors are able to connect with their readers, but Wil
Wheaton is not like most writers. His words are like a sleeper cell.
You have no idea they have penetrated deep inside of you, then they
spring to life and attack your senses when you least expect it.

[…]

Probably the hardest part about reading any of
Wheaton’s books is that I’m constantly day dreaming while I’m supposed
to be reading it. My thoughts drift because his words instantly trigger
flashbacks and old memories. That’s a powerful gift to have.

My
only complaint was that the book was too short. I wanted more. I equate
Wheaton’s style to Hemingway in the sense that he has an amazing
economy of words. The result is short but powerfully loaded pieces.
Although the book physically contains only thirteen short stories, the
impact is much greater. The stories, images, and memories that Wheaton
stirs up inside your head continues to fester and entertain and inspire
you long after you’re done reading his last page.

Pauly is an inspiration to me, and I aspire to write as well as he does one day. His praise of my work means a lot to me. 

I hear that a lot of the 300 are getting their books. This is awesome, and I’m happy to hear that those of you who’ve gotten your books are as excited to have them as I am for them to be in your hands. Because I’ve processed all the hardbacks out of the computer (the outstanding orders are just waiting to be sorted and filled with books), I was able to put softcovers back up for order again.

In non-HDoOL news, I just found out that a deadline was moved up from the middle of
January to December 4, so I’m probably going to be AFK (well, AFB,
anyway) for the next week or so, except when my brain demands a break
from it all and forces me to come post psychotic ramblings in my blog
about the time a Nosferatu became a Deadhead and lived out of a
converted school bus for six years, tripping his fangs off by drinking
the blood of spun out hippies in 1960.

. . . uh-oh. It’s starting already.