Oh, God, where to start. My name is Josh Wimmer, I am a professionally trained writer, and I have done many things. First, I was born in 1976 in Fargo, North Dakota. Then it gets kind of blurry; I remember a playpen, I think it was yellow, and lots of snow. I woke my parents up at 4:30 a.m. one Christmas to see if we could open presents yet, and they told me to go back to bed, but used stronger language than that. Then I went to kindergarten. I was in the afternoon class and shared a locker with a kid named Kevin from the morning class, except that there was also a Kevin in the afternoon class, and he couldn’t keep his locker straight, so he kept hanging up his sweatshirt in mine. It was frustrating. And sometimes, I think, not a little symbolic of how life has felt ever since.
I share a birthday with Martha Stewart, James Hetfield of Metallica, and Prairie Dawn, which makes me a Leo. Additionally, I was born in the Chinese Year of the Dragon. That is to say: Lion. Dragon. The best real animal and the best fictional animal. Dwell on that for a minute. And probably do not cross me. Lion. Dragon.
I attended Clara Barton Elementary School in Fargo through fifth grade; my last year, they remodeled the building and built a new library with a computer lab, and then I had to move on to middle school. I went to Agassiz Middle School (named for the glacial lake, not a misspelled tribute to the tennis player), and the year after I left they remodeled that building too. Ninth through twelfth grade I spent at Fargo South High—go Bruins!—and the year after I graduated, that school also built a big addition.
I earned my bachelor of journalism at the University of Nebraska–Lincoln—go Huskers!—which, yep, technically means I have a BJ. Come on. I also somehow have minors in both German and Spanish. I took five years to graduate from UNL, but they still waited to build a brand-new facility for the journalism college until the semester after I finished.
Late in the year 2000, I was managing the front of the house at a Mexican restaurant, and one day I was wiping off a table and found myself thinking, I wish I could get a better job. And seriously, it occurred to me all of a sudden that I had a degree and could get another job. I had forgotten that or something. I don’t know; I was twenty-four, I drank a lot. Anyway, I got hired as a copy editor and page designer at a small newspaper in Northern California in January 2001. I am half-Californian on my mother’s side, and the move gave me a chance to spend a lot more time with my aunt and my grandma, who once made me help her steal a lawnmower. We got away with it, too.
After about a year and a half, I had grown restless, and the part of California I lived in had very few women in their twenties; and although there were lots of divorcées, it just was nowhere near as sexy in real life as you hope it will be when you think, Hey, I’m a guy in my mid-twenties surrounded by divorcées. I didn’t deliver things or fix things, which probably hurt my chances. Anyway, I decided to move to New York. The city, I mean, which—if you have to ask, the person is talking about the city. At that point, it seemed like you better move fast if you wanted to live in New York, because it might not be there much longer.
I actually ended up living with my parents for about a year before I moved. They had a treadmill; it wasn’t bad.
Once I got to New York, I lived in a hostel for about a month, which, again, you would think means meeting a ton of French girls or something, but it just never works out that way for me. Instead I got a job waiting tables at a popular New York institution. It was just about the greatest job I ever had, but it was ultimately unsustainable because there was this guy who didn’t know how to seat tables properly and this lady and she wanted me to shake her salad up “like at McDonald’s,” and I was forced by circumstances far beyond my control to walk out in the middle of a lunch shift. I’m not proud of that. Actually, no, I am kind of proud of it—it was one hundred percent justified, we each have a responsibility to be ethical and considerate human beings, but that doesn’t mean we have to put up with egregious amounts of bullshit, and it was not a decision I made lightly. Like I said, it was just about the greatest job I ever had. Do your best to honor your obligations, take your lumps and don’t be a crybaby, but also know when enough is enough, is all I’m saying.
Then I took another job where I put up with egregious amounts of bullshit—exponentially more. It took me a year to figure it out and put in my notice. I am pretty dim sometimes.
And then I started working for myself! I got a permanent-ish freelance position as the copy editor at one of my favorite magazines, and enough other clients to pay my bills, and I really liked it. I met a girl in New York in 2005—she was instrumental in giving me the courage to become self-employed—married her in 2008, and we moved to Madison in 2009. In 2010, we rescued the most amazing cat from certain doom at the Humane Society and named her Priscilla Pufferson. In May 2011, we had a baby boy and named him Griffin. Sometimes we mix them up, because they are both short and yell when they’re hungry.
I still like working for myself. And whenever I get upset and think about quitting, I remember that my boss lets me look at dirty pictures on the computer on my break.
Famous People I Have Spoken To
Here is a list of famous people I have spoken to, in alphabetical order:
Adam Clayton of U2. Annette Bening. Beyoncé. Bill Maher. Bootsy Collins. The Captain, of Captain & Tennille. David Cross. Dyanna Lauren. The Edge. Gene Wolfe. Harlan Ellison. The Harlem Globetrotters, circa 1982. The guy Goodfellas is about. Ice Cube. The guy from Speed 2. Kelis (who said I was “good-looking”). Kevin Kline. Melanie Griffith. Mr. McFeely. Neal Stephenson. Neil Simon. Pharrell Williams. Phoebe Cates. Raven (of “That’s So…” fame, not the bird). Richard Marx. Vonda McIntyre. Warren Beatty.
I also once stood a foot or so behind Oprah and had a clear view of her coin slot. It did not diminish her aura of power at all. That’s how strongly she exudes it.