Wallerworks Issue #1
Read to the end for a tip Hollywood doesn't want you to know.
Letter from the Editor
Hello and welcome (back) to Wallerworks Issue One!
I started this newsletter as a short story I sent out once a week. No introduction, no extra details, and no helpful context that would encourage you to come back. Just a story in your inbox every Wednesday. I wanted it to feel like a paperback collection—except if you could only purchase one story at a time and the author was writing them in a panic the night before you bought the book.
But this is the internet, and the internet is hungry for #content.
So now when you subscribe you'll get a (hilarious/heartfelt/thought-provoking) sci-fi story AND music to accompany it AND a video that inspired the piece AND an audio file of me reading the story AND whatever else I feel like including.
Plus, like every mediocre writer on the internet, I'll share writing tips—for free! (Or until I compile enough to erase the tips from the website and repackage them as a training course.)
If you've already subscribed, thank you. And if you haven't subscribed yet, welcome. And if you have subscribed but haven't told anyone else about this newsletter, change that.
I hope you enjoy it,
Ben Waller
p.s. subscribe or get someone you know to subscribe.
What’s in this issue?
This week’s theme is all about love. Here’s what we have for you today:
A sci-fi short story about dating reality shows, called FUTURE LOVE.
A song about heartbreak that’ll make you get up and dance.
An animated short that I’ve loved for fifteen years.
My secret tip to make you a better writer, instantly.
One last message from me before you go.
“FUTURE LOVE”
Two dating show contestants are given a glimpse of their not-so-happy ending. Will they still choose to fall in love?
If you’d like to listen to this story instead, check out the AUDIO VERSION underneath the image. I read them out loud to my daughter so forgive the baby noises.
The Game Show Host smiled and showed off his veneers—the effect was predatorial. Last year, during a break in the show's schedule, he flew to Colombia and paid an Instagram surgeon to peel back his gums and give him a smile that was nearly one hundred percent teeth.
He pointed to three women seated on a nearby dais and asked a question of a sweaty guy unlucky enough to be cast on this show.
"Which one of these lovely ladies gets your pick?"
Joey from Atlanta—the sweaty guy—looked from the teeth to the women. He studied the three ladies like he was deciding between oranges at the grocery store.
Earlier in the show, all three women answered his (one) question (he was allowed to ask) with unique and charming insight. But man, they were boring. He wished he asked something specific—ideally about their relationship with God—but it was too late.
An off-camera producer motioned for Joey to 'hurry up’ and Joey panicked. He pointed at the lady who looked like she smelled the best.
"I pick Sarah, from Nashville." The studio speakers screeched with feedback and the audience winced.
None of the women stood.
The Host peeled his lips (somehow) wider—he also had secret mouth-maximizing surgery—and leaned in. "I think you meant Samantha from Nashville, right?"
"Yeah, yup that's who I meant. Sorry about that Samantha." Samantha clapped and smiled and shrugged at Joey like she did to all of her life's disappointments.
The Host offered her an elbow and walked Samantha down to the stage. The lights dimmed and a too-big screen lowered from the ceiling. This eyesore was what made "Future Love" the most-watched show in television history.
The Host said this next part so many times he worried it had become white noise, like the safety briefing on an airplane. He made a mental note to yell at the writers after the show. They worked better when they were miserable.
"This screen is the greatest achievement in human history. And unless the dinosaurs figured out how to make beer, let's call it the greatest achievement in all of Earth's history. With this screen and a team of the country's brightest minds, we can look into the future. Witness what's to come before it happens. Anticipate that which doesn't exist. And today we're turning our all-seeing eye toward the future of Joey and Sarah—err Samantha, sorry about that sweetheart."
The audience exploded. They weren't here to see who picked who on a dating show. They were here to hover over the future emotional wreckage of that choice like time-traveling vultures.
(Early in the development of the display, the engineers realized the cost to capture and channel the future exceeded the GDP of a small country. The screen went dark, the servers fell dormant—even the post-lab softball team stopped weekly practice—when Lisa in QA suggested they loan the technology to Hollywood in exchange for its operational costs. People complained but ABC offered a complaint-proof amount of money.)
At some point, this was a historic endeavor and a scientific exploration of time and space. Now it's just a ratings juggernaut.
Joey took hold of Samantha's hand and the screen flickered to life. At first, static. Then the static resolved into rough shapes and colors. Finally—a full HD rendering of the future. (4K was still too expensive, even for ABC.)
An empty room. Savvy viewers knew to look for domestic touches first—decorations and framed photos were clues about the couple's future. This room was bare. No paint on the walls or mounted memories. It wasn’t a kitchen which meant no fridge which meant no pictures held by magnets. Online fans of the show complained whenever a fridge showed up—it made it too easy to figure out if the couple had a shot.
The Host broke the silence. "Well folks, this does happen. There's a not-insignificant chance that either the screen missed Joey and Samantha OR, and I hate to say this, you two don't have a future together."
Joey and Samantha turned to each other. Pedestals rose from the floor in front of them. The pedestals had only one feature—an oversized red button.
The Host whispered into the mic like a prayer. "I want you to consider everything you've seen tonight and decide whether you want to give this future a shot. We can't guarantee the screen is one hundred percent accurate—causality is the domain of philosophers, not Future Love the TV show. However, contestants from earlier seasons have reported eighty-five to ninety percent accuracy. What do you say? Do you want to take a chance and battle the fates togeth--"
Samantha SLAMMED the button. An insulting horn echoed throughout the stage. Joey wiped a tear and hoped the cameras didn't catch it.
"Alright. Samantha has made her choice clear. These two don't want to chance it! Go ahead and take separate exits into your new lives."
Joey skulked and Samantha skipped out.
"Let's bring on our next contestant!"
The audience cheered as Madeline—she preferred Maddie—ambled on stage. The Host patted her back and used it to hide him nudging her onto her mark.
"On the dais to my left are three charming bachelors. You're allowed one question. Hopefully, you came a little better prepared than the last fella!" A "please laugh" sign illuminated above the audience.
Maddie studied the faces of the three men. One of these men was...or could be her future. Her forever. The thought bowled her over and she wanted to sit. But she couldn’t embarrass herself—everybody from high school was watching and so was her mom.
"I have my question prepared." She paused. "I'd like to ask number two first if that's alright?"
The Host smiled—he welcomed the change to the routine. "Go right ahead!"
"Number Two," Maddie began, "if you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?"
Brian from Philadelphia—aka Number Two—thought for a moment and answered. "Housin' a philly cheese steak and watching my eagles fly to the super bowl!”
Maddie did not feel an attraction to Brian.
"Number One, same question."
Number One—Derek from Cali (he insisted on calling it that)—looked at the audience, not Maddie, and said, "On a tropical island with you, doll!" Women in the crowd groaned.
"Number Three, if you could be anywhere, where you would be?"
Leon from Utah spoke from the heart. “Outside with you, deciding where to go next."
Maddie melted. The choice was easy. "I've made my decision. I'd like to pic--"
"And we'll learn the result of Maddie's decision after this break from our sponsors."
Maddie had to wait until the Host's makeup was touched up and the crew cleared the stage. Someone counted down from five with their fingers.
"And we're back, go ahead, sweetheart."
"I choose Leon."
"And after an answer like that, who wouldn't!"
Maddie felt this cheapened the sincerity and intent of his thoughtful reply and ignored the Host. Leon stepped down. This time, the Host didn't offer an elbow.
The screen floated down from the ceiling, As she watched it descend, Maddie thought about her secret that she never told anyone while she was auditioning for the show—Maddie didn't believe in the screen. She tried admitting this to her mother when she was cast but her mom cried until she threw up and Maddie dropped the discussion. Her mom fell on the deterministic side of the spectrum—love was fate and this show was the Truth.
The screen flickered on and the audience gasped.
Maddie and Leon were screaming at each other. Their voices blew out the speakers in the studio and cracked the windows.
Someone in the control booth smashed the feed before it could escalate. The picture flipped to black and the screen retreated into the ceiling.
The Host failed to polish the turd. "Well, looks like you two enjoy spirited debate!"
Maddie suddenly realized this guy was an asshole. Why does he get to tell her the future? Besides, she didn't even believe in the screen!
The pedestals rose again. Maddie looked at Leon. Leon smiled. Maddie felt that same warmth she did before all the yelling.
"You have ten seconds to decide if you'd like to walk out together or separate. Forever."
Maddie dropped her hand to her side. Leon did the same.
"I won't need ten seconds.” She reached out and took hold of Leon's hand. They walked into the future together.
They were married within two years. They traveled and laughed and loved. They had tough days and days that ended too soon. Weirdos on social media left foreboding comments about their future but they blocked them. The Host called them every day to invite them to appear on reunion shows and wrap-up podcasts, but they left Future Love when they left the studio. (They didn't know it, but they were one of the few success stories. So many of the future relationships imploded that the show lost all its viewers and was canceled midway through season three.)
It was perfect. Until Maddie noticed her sweater.
It was the same bleached cable-knit from her futureviewer vision fifteen years ago.
She grabbed Leon from his home office (and gym) and told him the news—free will is a lie and the universe was predetermined. She was wrong. And she couldn’t believe her mom was right.
She asked Leon if he felt like arguing, crossing her fingers behind her back.
He laughed. "I didn't have plans for a screaming match, what about you?"
Maddie was content—she was end-of-Thanksgiving-dinner-full of love.
"No. I don’t—didn’t believe in the screen." Maddie’s head hurt. "But if we don't fight, do we still end up together?"
"We're together now."
Maddie thought about how to explain it. Her degree was in business with a minor in web design—not quantum mechanics.
"What if back in the studio the screen is rolling down and any second it's going to show this."
"It'd see us getting along. Where do you think the time camera is? Hey, past us!" He waved at the wall.
"But this isn't what we saw back then!" Maddie never shouted. "And if we don't see the right thing, then it won't happen the right way. It has to happen the same!"
"I'm no good at paradoxes."
Maddie felt her face grow hot with frustration. "If we don't see the same argument, we disappear. It's not a paradox!”
"Let's say that's true and we're back there now. Screen rolls down, we see two wrinkled—but sexy—versions of ourselves still in love and one of us still hits the big red eject button. Probably you. We miss out on this amazing life, and go whittle away our time somewhere much more mediocre. This instance of reality disappears and another takes its place. Me and you, we'll just move to the next timeline. Or timestream. Or universe. Whatever you want to call it.”
"So you're ok with never being together?!"
"No!" He matched her energy. "I won't have any feelings on it because this version of Leon won't exist. I'll be space dust."
"If you don't care, then why even try?!"
"I try because I love you. But if I never get to love you, I would never know the pain of losing you. Which sounds pretty wonderful compared to this!"
Maddie unloaded on him. Leon fought back. A sparring match between two partners who knew every weakness.
After a particularly hurtful curse, Leon checked his watch and slid against the wall to the ground.
"What the fuck are you doing on the floor?!"
Leon rested his head against the plaster. "I think that was enough." Leon smiled. He smiled! Maddie didn't know whether to scream or slam the door in his face.
"I don't think any of this is very funny."
"We needed to see a fight, didn't we?"
Maddie felt the hot wind in her sails evaporate.
“I didn't know what we were going to fight about but as soon as I saw you put that sweater on this morning, I knew it was coming."
She choked out a laugh.
He pointed to the sunset outside. "The screen showed us in the daytime. We could have stopped sooner but I was scared to think about what would happen if we didn’t go long enough."
Maddie mumbled and rubbed salty tears on his shoulder. "I’m glad we’re a team." Leon kissed the top of her head.
She wanted to sleep but it was only 6:30 and they hadn’t eaten dinner. She looked up at Leon, "If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?"
Leon panicked, worried that a wrong answer could ruin their future. The last time he responded to this question, his life completely changed.
But then he remembered the outcome was predetermined, so he winged it.
Petite Meller - “Baby Love”
The only good dance songs are about heartbreak. Hey Ya, Dancing on My Own, Ran, this one. Turn it up and throw yourself a dance party.
(Or queue it up and play it right when you finish reading the short story like the credits at the end of an expensive TV show.)
EDITOR'S NOTE: Every issue will include music. Find a playlist of those songs HERE.
“A quoi ça sert l’amour”
Some of you might not know this, but there was a time on this Earth when you couldn’t just load up a website and stream a video. You had to DOWNLOAD the videos you wanted—usually after waiting a few hours.
I had a highly-curated (and downloaded) collection1 of videos that accomplished two things: 1) I liked them and 2) they made me look like I was smart and had good taste. This short French animation was always at the top of my list of downloads. It makes me feel fuzzy and it’s damn well made. And as a sixteen-year-old, it made me want a ‘run through the streets of Paris and steal a bouquet’ kind of love.
It took sixteen years to learn that real love was something much more joyful.
Sometime after I downloaded the animation, I stumbled upon a live-action version (watch it HERE). Much like Shakespeare’s Caesar, I don’t believe in portents. But this video was made at the same college I was about to attend, and it was a fundamental part of my filmmaking history. I had a feeling I was headed to the right place.
These videos will always hold a spot in my heart.
Whatever you are writing, whether it's an email, a short story, a screenplay, a birthday card—READ IT OUT LOUD.
Do not show anyone your work until you have read it out loud at least once. The voice in your head is a liar and it sounds nothing like what you wrote.
And yes, I'm reading this post out loud before I upload it.
Thank you for joining me on this journey. I hope you enjoyed today's issue. Hop in the comments and talk trash or send links or whatever you want to do—I need the engagement.
Subscribe if you haven't, and tell your friends if you have.
See you next Wednesday!
- Ben
(Here are some of my favorites from that list: Alive in Joburg, War Photographer, and this Dead Weather music video)