So many odds-n-ends today. Let’s get into it.

Anne and I are doing a Momentus Event together on April 27 at 10am Pacific. What is this, exactly? I’m so glad you asked.

It’s The Art of Storytelling!

Join us for an inspiring virtual event featuring creative juggernauts Anne and Wil Wheaton as they dive into the craft of storytelling, their writing processes, and the art of developing creative ideas. Whether you’re an aspiring writer, a seasoned storyteller, or simply a fan of great stories, this fun discussion will provide valuable insights into the creative journey.

Anne, a lifelong rescue pet advocate, will discuss her popular children’s book “Piggy and Pug” — a heartwarming tale about the journey of Pug, who’s searching for a new family, and Piggy, who’s looking for a new friend.

Wil, a celebrated writer, actor, and geek culture icon, will talk about the process behind his best-selling annotated memoir, “Still Just A Geek,” which continues to sell out at bookstores around the world.

Upgrade your ticket to include a copy of “Piggy & Pug” by Anne Wheaton and an exclusive character enamel pin set! Meet-and-greets will include a copy of Wil’s “Still Just A Geek” while supplies last!

They’ll share their personal experiences, challenges, and successes in the writing world. They’ll discuss how to cultivate original ideas, overcome writer’s block, and craft compelling, resonant artistic ventures.

The conversation will be followed by a Q&A session, allowing attendees to ask questions and gain deeper insights from their perspectives.

Don’t miss this opportunity to be part of an inspiring discussion about the power of stories and the creative process behind them!

Reserve your spot now and get ready to be inspired.

Some of our friends have done these events, and they tell us that they love them. We are both looking forward to hanging out. We can’t make any promises, because cats, but we’ll do our best to get Marlowe and Watson to come say hello.

It’s Wednesday (it’s only Wednesday? It’s only Wednesday.) and that means we have a new podcast for you!

This week, it’s The Hidden Heart of Brass Attending, by Christopher Scott. Here’s my introduction:

The heart wants what it wants, and it will fight for it with a passion and fury that is unimaginable until you fall in love and feel it for yourself.

Today, I’ll take you to a time when a fulfilling a heart’s most intimate desire could lead to prison or worse. A time when the truth of who you loved had to be hidden away in the most secretive places. A time when even the most powerful men could be destroyed with a carefully uttered whisper.

You are about to meet one of those men, at a moment of great consequence in his life, a moment when his heart’s desire is at his fingertips, if only he can grasp a cold, brass hand and find The Hidden Heart of Brass Attending.

Fun fact: Christopher Scott is one of my oldest friends. He’s been writing since we were teenagers, so when On Spec bought this story, we celebrated. I thought it would be cool to narrate it and send it to him, as a way of congratulating him and marking the milestone. I was opening Audacity to do just that when the idea that became It’s Storytime exploded out of the same place that birthed Tabletop. It has taken a lot longer than I expected, and the thing I planned to give my friend is now something I’m giving all of you. I trust that you all know how to share.

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Inside of me, there is an ocean of creativity in which I swim, dive, or sail whenever I want to tell a story or make A Thing Where There Was Not A Thing Before. When the tide is up, getting into that ocean is as easy as taking a couple of steps. When the tide is out, I have to walk across the biggest, stinkiest, muck-covered mud flat you can imagine. I can do it, because I am awesome, but by the time I get to the water’s edge, I’m so tired and drained, I don’t have much energy left to do whatever I went there for in the first place. And whatever I do make usually stinks a little bit.

I used to believe that I could force the tide to come in, could pull it in all on my own, by reading or listening to music or consuming inspirational entertainment. This was a profound misunderstanding of “if you don’t have time to read, you don’t have time to write” that took me years and way too many demoralizing and unproductive walks across that mud flat to correct.

You all know this already: the tide moves on its own. It’s too busy enjoying its dance with the Moon to care about humans. It does not even notice that we exist. Nothing I did affected it, and even though I think I knew that, I didn’t want to admit that I was overwhelming myself as a consumer, so I’d feel productive until it came in, right on its own schedule, and I could go back to being a creator and feeling productive.

All too often, I found myself standing on the shore, toes touching the water, entirely too exhausted to get in. And before I knew it, the tide was headed back out to sea. If I caught any of it at all, I still had to slog through a lot of stinky mud on my way back.

I became aware of this artistic tide about a year ago. And ever since, I have done my best to allow (encourage) myself to rest when the tide is out. The resting is what matters. For me, Rest looks like a lot of different things. I watch a lot of movies, or none at all. I catch up on entire seasons of tv shows, revisit old favorites. I play video games. I start a lot of books, and finish some of them. I go on long walks alone and with Anne. I spend entire days doing as close to nothing as possible. I encourage myself to get bored, to let my mind wander and sketch out something I may want to go looking for when the tide comes back in. And I do it all without looking at the calendar, at the clock, or any tide charts (which don’t exist in this metaphor, because if they did it would collapse and I just need you to let me have this.)

The last time the tide was in, I made the most of it. I had a lot of fun. I don’t think I even got out of the water for more than a few hours at a time for weeks. I wrote a cyberpunk short story about my friend’s Crocs turning him into a zombie, a Wesley Crusher story for the Star Trek comic, a whole bunch of stuff that’s not ready for publication, some pretty good blog posts. It was awesome, and though I was sad to watch it go, I was ready to get out and dry off when it left. I was ready to rest, looking forward to it, to be honest.

But the tide has been out for a lot longer than I can remember it being recently, and I’ve been pining for it. I’ve taken a few steps into the mud a little bit, found a few puddles, and what I’ve written and created there has been fine. I bet you didn’t even notice it was a little stinky. But the ocean is still far away. It’s not my favourite thing (hi Canada. I love you and I’m sorry about all this bullshit) but I guess I must have matured as an artist, or I feel more comfortable with myself as an artist, (and maybe that’s the exact same thing, resulting in a version of myself who is kinder and more patient with me than I used to be) because I fully accept that the tide is not mine to influence, let alone control. It’s okay to rest, so I’m ready when it gets here.

Oh hey. I just looked up, noticed that I’ve wandered way out into the mud, and I’m suddenly tired and stinky. But I’ve come this far from the beach so I could share how happy I am that last week, I thought that maybe I felt the wind shift, or the pressure change, the way it does when the tide comes in. And just before I wrote this paragraph, I think I glimpsed a thin, fiery shimmer on the horizon.

I appreciate you coming with me on this walk. Sorry about the mud. It washes out.

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