eyes locked on the stick, willing it to move.
The stick refuses.
I concentrate harder, growling into the scarf wrapped around my face. “No,” I think. “That’s not how it works. The Force flows when you’re calm. At peace.”
I take a deep breath and raise my hand again, but a voice breaks my concentration.
It’s my mother with an important question. One she’s been asking with increasing frequency and concern: “Hey! You, uh, you know Star Wars isn’t real, right?”
Like countless other humans, I’ve been a huge fan of Star Wars from a very young age. I didn’t have the words to express it as a child, but Star Wars was always more than entertainment or escapism to me. I always wanted to make that stick move.
From my earliest memories, I fought to incorporate Star Wars into my life.
We had the board game Escape from Death Star. When my older brother wasn’t around, I turned to my teddy bear, Chocolate, who graciously agreed to play it with me. He defeated me more times than not.
I devised bizarre and complex plots to act out with my three and three-quarters inch Star Wars action figures. Like when my Cloud Car Pilot, who I believe I named Rak Starflier, asked Hoth Outfit Princess Leia on a date while Han was frozen in carbonite. Leia, with great aplomb, rebuffed Rak and educated him on the concept of monogamy.
When I was a teenager, my father tried to teach me to play the drums. A skill I was unable to master until I remembered to breathe, relax, let go. I needed to stop obsessively counting every beat and trust in my instincts. I only learned to play when I unlearned what I had learned.
Over the years, I brought Star Wars into my life in so many different ways. Reading books, collecting action figures, playing video games, collecting more action figures, performing comedy shows about Star Wars, still collecting action figures and performing comedy shows about Star Wars action figures, specifically.
But still something was missing. Still, the stick did not fly into my hand.
Then a few years ago, I met Ken Napzok. I went on the show he co-hosted with Maude Garrett, Jedi Alliance, to share my appreciation of the Star Wars prequel trilogy and era.
Leading from that, Ken and I eventually co-created, along with Jennifer Landa, the ForceCenter podcast feed. Now, we spend hours and hours talking, laughing, and digging into the beating heart of Star Wars. The toys and the absurdity and the predictions, yes, but also the characters, the artistry, the themes. The meaning behind the moments. The kind of ideas you’ll read about in this very book.
And for the first time, the stick moved.
My mother had been understandably concerned that I couldn’t tell the difference between reality and fantasy. But what I had always longed for is the chance to truly explore what this fantasy could tell me about reality.
Star Wars—with all its space wizards, bug-eyed monsters, and starships that travel at the speed of narrative need—is not running from the real world. It reflects the joys and challenges of reality and opens doors for interpreting it.
That kind of reflection is what I get from my long Star Wars conversations with Ken. And that’s what you have in your hands or flowing into your earbuds right now. One long, fun, heartfelt conversation.
So, I encourage you to enjoy. Shout out when you agree with something! Whisper “hmmm” when you need to give something more thought. Jot down your own memories. Talk out loud to this book and imagine Ken listening to you with a playful, thoughtful sparkle in his eye. Your life will be better for it.
Because Star Wars is a fantasy. But the impact it can have on our lives is very real.
So, sit back, let go, reach out.
Make that stick move.
Make this book fly into your waiting hands.
A long (enough) time ago in a small, coastal California town…
Spring. 1983. Ten kids, all aged between seven and eight, were in the middle of a slumber party. Laughter and horseplay were in full swing as the sugar rush from the birthday cake they had all just enjoyed had yet to give way to the sugar crash the host parents had been praying for from the first bites on. From the television emerged some now familiar sounds from a galaxy far, far away. Spaceships roared. Aliens laughed. Laser blasts exploded. It was a trailer for the next exciting chapter in the Star Wars saga, letting every kid (and the adults) in that room know that Return of the Jedi would be racing to theaters that May. Every single one of the kids stopped dead in their tracks. The rambunctious energy vanished in a flash. Star Wars had them.
Cue the opening theme to Stranger Things? Nope.
This really happened. It happened to me at my friend John’s birthday. I remember the exact moment, the room lighting, the sleeping bag I was wrapped up in, and, above all else, I remember seeing Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight and friend of Captain Solo, dressed in all black, igniting his lightsaber high atop Jabba’s sail barge, the Khetanna. Even when you consider the slower pacing of movie trailers in the 1980s, this trailer was full to the brim of the Star Wars imagery that would one day be a daily part of my life. Yet it was this one thing—Luke Skywalker hacking and slashing with his laser sword—that pulled me in. It stayed with me and, even now, I don’t fully understand why. Han Solo would eventually become my “favorite” Star Wars character. I’ve always found myself more interested in the inner workings of the Rebellion against the Empire than in Jedi and their lore. It’s not even my favorite Luke Skywalker moment. However, seven-year-old me was transfixed and beyond intrigued by the image of this hero with a blade. (I’m sure there are some self-help books I can dive into as a means to explain it. I’ll let you know the results another time.) What’s even more entertaining now is that, in reality, the moment was actually fleeting. A quick search online will lead you to the actual trailer and watching it will reveal that Luke is on top of that sail barge, lightsaber ignited, for less than a second. Blink and, poof, it’s gone. You’re onto the next shot. But for years—years I tells ya—it was so burned into my brain that I was convinced Luke was there for most of the trailer (probably alongside comedian Sinbad as Shazaam and the Berenstain Bears). I actually kept searching for another trailer. One with the longer, sustained shot that I knew I had seen. But it wasn’t there. All that remains is the brief glimpse of a Jedi Knight, a lightsaber, and the villains between him and safety. And that, if I may, makes it all the more impressive (most impressive) because that’s all it took. One, brief moment. That was when Star Wars hooked me.
And the great part is…I wasn’t alone. This happened to you as well. This happened to your friends. It happened to your uncle and your quiet next-door neighbor. It happened to your office buddy and the kid selling you a movie ticket. It happened to all of us. Maybe it was in 1977 when your jaw dropped as an Imperial Star Destroyer flew over your head for the first time. Perhaps it was in 1997 when George Lucas decided to rerelease his movies with all new additions and effects. This could have happened to you in 1999 when a wonderful teaser trailer announced that every legend has a beginning or maybe it was in 2015 when a more distinguished Han Solo proclaimed to his Wookiee copilot and us, “Chewie, we’re home,” and ushered in a new era of Star Wars stories.
We all have a moment that absolutely hooked us. While there are a lot of Star Wars moments to choose from amongst eleven theatrically released movies (for now!), two hit animated shows, and countless books
