Inside the Mind of Kurtis J. Wiebe

You can never leave.

Today I Am Wishing You a Happy Birthday

It’s August 8th tomorrow. Another day of summer in another year of my life.

Around this time last year I was sitting in the waiting room waiting for the love of my life as she was prepared for major surgery. I can’t tell you everything  I felt then. I was nervous, that much is certain, and I had no right to be, really. I wasn’t about to risk my life for another. All I had to do was sit there and not pass out.

A task which I accomplished in spectacular fashion.

And after a half hour of work in which I contributed nothing, you were brought into the world and into our lives. Into our family. I’m having a hard time believing that a year has passed between then and now, but here we are.

You’re the measuring stick of time, amongst many other things.

Willow, tomorrow you’re a year old. I’ve been writing letters to you since before you were born, and in that time I’ve realized that these pieces of memory are as much for me as they are you. Because it’s moments like this where I take time to appreciate the value of you when the day to day tends to be a blur of crying, poop and sleepless nights.

You’re already walking. You’ve been timidly trying for the past month but you’ve taken a real shining to it now. It allows you to be more mischievous with increased efficiency. You’ve taught us since then that nothing is ever truly baby proofed, it only ever maintains the illusion of it.

You’re very curious. Sometimes I have to attribute that mischievousness to your natural desire to learn more as a means to curbing my frustration. Snatching my mouse away and closing windows on the computer was funny the first time.

I assure it is not anymore.

You’ve changed me, little one. And you’ll forgive me if I choke back a few tears when I write this. I haven’t really faced these emotions yet. I haven’t formed the words to the choices I’ve made to be a better man, for myself and a better father, for you.

11 weeks ago I swore a sober life. And I’ve done so. Because every morning you smiled and waited for me even on the days when I struggled to pull myself from bed. Because you were happy to see me, unconditionally, even though the hangover was the only thing on my mind.

My life isn’t just my own. It is an owed life; to me, your mother and to you.

I suppose that, if anything, is what you taught me. And I’ve been slow to learn and accept it. I’ve begrudgingly accepted the responsibility.  And while it’s embarrassing to admit it, that’s the truth of the matter.

A year isn’t very long. At least, it never used to be. But you change month by month before my eyes.

And because of you I’ve stopped measuring time by years but by moments. Happy ones amidst sad ones. Joy and frustration. Laughter and anger. And the occasion when you make a marvelous discovery and familysmile with delight that the world has gotten that much bigger for you.

Still, we mark this year for you tomorrow. It’s an important day.

Because all those moments added together make this year.

And it’s the best I could’ve ever asked for, my little love.

Happy birthday, Willow.

Love always,


A Nar Shaddaa Gamble – My Star Wars Podcast

A few weeks ago I decided to put some effort into a Star Wars RPG and not only run it for friends, but podcast it as well. I wanted to use the Fantasy Flight Games Edge of the Empire rules as they were focused on character and narrative over fiddly number crunching.

I also wanted to create a living world that advanced independently from character choices, that would evolve with or without their involvement.

I put in a few evenings of work and crafted a faction system that monitors their overall goals and a ‘weekly’ goal, a scheme they put into action that happens between sessions. The results are decided by a die roll and a few factors like influence and resources, and said outcome can directly affect the PC’s… or not. Quite simply, they are more likely to get caught up in all these nefarious schemes than be an active part in them.

With that said, here is the link to our first episode plus a photo of the players and their characters. More information can be found on the website.


2015 Appearances Schedule

May 2: 9am-4pm: Third Eye Comics, Annapolis, Maryland- Free Comic Book Day

May 6: 4pm-7pm: Big Pete’s Comics, North Vancouver, Canada. Rat Queens Volume 2 SIgning.

May 9: 1pm-4pm: Hourglass Comics, Port Moody, Canada. Pisces/Rat Queens Signing

May 22: PaizoCon: Seattle, WA

May 23/24: VanCaf, Vancouver, Canada. Convention.

May 28-31: Awesome Con, Washington, DC. Convention.

June 13: 11am-4pm, The Comic Shop, Fairfax, VA. Signing.

July 8-12: SDCC, San Diego, CA

July 31-Aug. 2: Boston Comic Con

Nov 9-15: Thought Bubble UK, Leeds

Today I Am Reflecting On You

You’re five months today and I’m still not sure where the time has gone. Maybe before you were born I had all the time in the world, even though I thought I possibly couldn’t have less of it. I didn’t understand less time until August 8th, the day you were born.sleepy willow

I’ve been meaning to write to you again, there are so many little details that I wanted to capture before I’d forgotten them. I’ve failed to do so. I watched you lying on your back the other day and I remembered this little thing you did when you were first born. It was something you and I shared on those endlessly long nights while you suffered with food allergies and the pain that came with it.

But I’ve forgotten what it was, and I can’t remember now for the life of me.

So, before I forget, I’m immortalizing you in the now. Because you won’t always be this way, or even for very long.

Life has changed, for the record. I look back at the romanticizing, aggrandizing pre-father me and want to punch his cloud nine dopey face. Because he has no idea what he’s in for.  While everything I wrote was through a pair of glasses with broken rose coloured lenses, I know I meant them. I was excited for you, and I couldn’t wait to meet you. I just wasn’t ready for how much of an impact you’d have on my life, good or not so good. But I’ll talk about that in a moment.

Shan and WillowYou were born to us by C-section. A few days before your due date, you’d decided to invert yourself like some deranged gut dwelling bat, and you gave us very few options.

It was a bizarre experience. We didn’t go through the process we’d been training for in our pre-natal classes because we skipped past all the labour and screaming and gushing blood (I might owe you for that one). Your mom was insanely calm and focused. Giant needle to the spine? “No problem.” Opening her up and ripping a living creature from her insides? “Shhh, I want to hear the doctor talk!”

Meanwhile, I just tried to focus on anything but the idea that the woman I loved was laying on a gurney with a gaping belly hole. The protective sheet that blocked my view didn’t extend to my imagination, unfortunately.

It wasn’t long, though. There was that brief moment in time where we crossed a line; life without you and life full of you. And in between there existed your very first sound in the world as you cried.

We still had to wait, mind you. You were getting cleaned and weighed. Screaming your head off all the while. I still hadn’t seen you yet, just heard that you happened upon our lives from behind a and willow

And then you came to me, all wrapped up and pudgy, like a marshmallow given a heartbeat. I held you. I think I was stunned. I was unsure of it all. Maybe it was because there wasn’t a long build up to the moment. Hell, your mother and I had an expensive French dinner at a beautiful restaurant not 16 hours prior.

If I’m being honest, I didn’t feel anything. I just sat there, trying to take it all in.

And it kind of went that way for a few more days as we eked out an existence in the hospital while your mom recovered. To this day I have no idea how she managed. Not just the physical pain of her surgery, but the emotional and psychological change she had to go through while healing. Her frustration at not being able to move. To lift or hold you properly without feeling excruciating pain.

first meeting mom

She did, though. And she’s the best mom you could ever have.

The following two months were the hardest I’ve lived through. I will tell you this, though: I cried when we returned home from the hospital. That’s when the emotion hit me. That you’d arrived and that you were mine. But there wasn’t time for that because life was only going to become more insane.

Sleeping BabyI don’t want to go into all those details, it hardly matters now that I’ve come out the other end alive and forged by the hellfire. You were sick and cried a lot. You screamed at two helpless parents for eight hours a day, you tried to tell us what was wrong in the only way you knew how, but we were clueless.

Dr. Internet was the saviour.

Since then, you’ve grown. You hardly cry anymore, even when you cut teeth at four months old. You’re downright rude if you don’t get your food exactly when you want it, but most days are good now.

You smile like your mom. You have giant ears like me. Your eyes light up when you’re happy, like mine do on the occasion positivity cracks through my scowl.

You love a bath more than anything. From the time we set you in the water, you kick and flail, stopping only to make sure we’re watching you before going right back to it.

You love music, particularly anything with a dance beat.B+W Willow

You like when I sing to you in the mornings, Josh Pyke being a favourite between us.

You love your mom more than anything. You smile when she enters the room and cry when she leaves it. Not jealous. Nope.

You love people. Anyone can pick you up and you’re just happy to be held. I hope that comfort with people stays with you and you don’t struggle with social anxiety like I do.

You refuse to sleep when we have company because you know something much better is happening outside your crib.

Sitting upYou take the stinkiest shits.

You rub your head in an awkwardly euphoric way while you drink from your bottle.

You intentionally stick your legs out of your crib when we put you down to sleep because you know we’ll come get you.

You smile every time we come get you.

You enjoy doing an inhuman growl that makes my skin crawl.

You would live in your oversized puffy coat if we let you.

I know I’m missing things. I know there aren’t words to encapsulate everything that you are and all that you mean to me. For anyone to understand, they would just have to spend a bit of time to find out why we love hat

I suppose that’s what the five months has taught me, if anything. Every moment I spend with you matters. It means something. To you. To me.

And when I woke up this Christmas, I looked around and saw something new.

My family.

And I’m so glad you are part of it, Willow. I couldn’t imagine life without you.

Love always,


Dia De Los Muertos: Lonesome













My Statement on the Rat Queens News

This is a difficult and upsetting statement to write. I couldn’t have imagined something I love so dearly would become connected to domestic violence.

After a few days of reflection and going through a roller coaster of emotion, I’ve realized I’m not angry about this revelation. I’m deeply saddened. When you work with someone so closely on a project that is so personal, you are much more than creative collaborators, you become friends that feel like family. I have a lot of love for Roc Upchurch, I’ve spent a lot of time with him, at conventions and signings and quiet times over dinner when the crowds have gone away. Shannon and I have spent time with his wife, whom we admire greatly. With everything that has happened, I still care about and love Roc and my greatest hope is that in all this there is an opportunity to find help and for healing to take place in his family. They are never far from our thoughts.

I’m not a stranger to domestic abuse. I know that keeping abuse a secret and being afraid to speak about it are why so many people suffer in silence. It is a topic that needs to be openly talked about and there needs to be a feeling of safety and acceptance for those that come forward with their stories. It is why I am addressing this news rather than burying my head in the sand.

I know many readers are asking the ultimate question: What now? I was on vacation with my family when the news broke and I’ve spent the past few days debating what to do. Rat Queens has always meant a lot to me. I’ve poured my heart into the series, and through it I’ve shared my life, revealed my fears and insecurities and it’s helped me cope with lifelong struggles of body image and confidence. 

I want you to know that Rat Queens means the world to me on a personal level and my mission for the series is unchanged. I want to write stories about women that I see in my everyday life, about friendship and to make comics that include and embrace diversity.

As of today, Roc Upchurch will no longer be illustrating Rat Queens. This is going to be a transitionary period for the series as we rebuild and prepare for a new start. I am committed to Rat Queens, to stand by what it has always been praised for and to prove to the fans that they weren’t wrong in loving it.

Thank you for your understanding in this difficult time.

Kurtis J. Wiebe

As a Vancouver resident, I encourage contacting Domestic Abuse Services to learn how you can get information about abuse or make a charitable donation.



Today I am Building Our Future For You

June 20, 2014


I’m on a plane back from Los Angeles. I’ve been away for five days and I’m an hour from home. I’ve missed your mom a lot. She’s told me you’ve been quieter than usual since I’ve been gone and that when we talked on Skype you danced to the sound of my voice. You touch my heart in ways I can’t begin to explain and I haven’t even met you yet. But, we’re getting close. Seven weeks, to be exact.

I’ve been meaning to write a letter to you for a while now, but I’ve been planning my future so that I can give you a comfortable one. That’s why I took this trip. By the time you can read and understand these messages, you’ll already know that I’m a writer. Or like to think I’m one. It’s a strange profession, but I want you to know that, from the moment you’re born, I will support whatever it is you want to be. I grew up in a time when everyone thought creative careers were an impossibility. It’s nonsense. Just know that, like with most things in life, it’s not an easy path.

I’ve been thinking about the journey your mom and I have taken. The time has gone by at a terrifying speed and you continue to grow and change our lives. Mostly your mom’s, to be fair. You’re stretching her out and she waddles in hilarious fashion that I can’t help but laugh at. You’re insanely active, kicking the hell out of your mom, apparently the most when she laughs or when The Police come on the radio. Or when she sings.

Life for me has stayed much the same, externally. The life I live in my head, however, has gone from work related obsession to work related obsession plus you. If I’m being really honest, I’ve been feeling scared. I see what is to come and there’s a panic inside that I can’t shake. What if I can’t support this family? What if you get sick and I can’t help you get better? What if, what if, what if…

And that’s me. Sometimes I am fearful. But there’s also so much anticipation, Willow.

What if she looks like her mom? Or both of us? Or, worst case scenario, she looks like me? What will she love? What will she sound like? How will she feel in my arms?

I spend a lot of my time waiting for you. That time can’t pass soon enough.

I turned thirty five this year. I realized not long after it was the last birthday I’d celebrate as a man without a child. Your mom and I went on a trip to New York together, the last we’d take as a couple in this stage of our lives. My last father’s day without a child physically in the world. Next weekend I’ll attend my last comic convention as the man I am now.

But you know, despite my fears, you’ve made me ready to be a father in a world of firsts.

In seven weeks I will hold you, my baby girl.



Struggling with Identity

Over the weekend I received a message on Tumblr asking a personal question about identity and family. I took a few days to really think about what I wanted to say because there was a lot riding on the answer. I’m posting the question, followed by my answer.

I’ve fallen in love with reading the journal entries you post. You seem like you are really thoughtful, sweet, and easy to talk to. I’m sorry I don’t really have the nerve to come off anon, but I was wondering if you could help me with some advice? After reading your entries I have started to write about struggling with my sexuality, I just don’t know what I am or what I want to be. I would like to tell my family, but I don’t know how. Should I let them read my writing or tell them in person?

I read this over the weekend and have been thinking about it a lot. I debated whether or not to post it publicly because it’s such a personal question, but obviously I decided to as I think it’s probably a question a lot of people might be asking themselves.

First of all, thank you. My blog/website was something I originally created as a marketing tool. I’d post images from my work, pieces of writing method or sneak peeks. Over time it kind of grew into something more personal as I’d gone through a lot of difficult times in my life not long after I started the site.

Thirty Five

35, eh?

Halfway point of the thirties onto 40, the halfway point to being full dead if you round down those life expectancy numbers.

It’s a crazy week for me. Tomorrow I leave for New York to launch the latest issue of Rat Queens with a team of burlesque dancers and probably a few pints of beer. I’ve got solicitation copy to write for Peter Panzerfaust #22 and Rat Queens #9.  I actually don’t have time to be writing this, but, I felt it was fitting to reflect on what has been a wonderful year for me.

At the end of 2012, I moved to Vancouver. I experienced a lot of my life in Saskatoon. Many wonderful things but, sadly, a lot of heartache. I think I’d lost myself in a lot of ways. I couldn’t tell which end was up and I was going around in circles. I saw all the reminders of what I perceived to be evidence of what defined me. And that definition had become one of failure.

So, I left.

It was probably the scariest thing I’d ever done in my life. Maybe even the bravest. I packed up what little possessions I had into the back of my 2004 Aveo (RIP) and headed West. I actually made the decision over the course of two hours and put the plan in place in little over two weeks. Have you ever had that feeling like your skin is crawling but, inside somewhere? A completely fictitious itch in your head?

I still remember driving away, watching the city disappear in my rear view mirror. Like I’d never see it again. With each mile I felt the excitement of living creep back in. A feeling I’d been familiar with a few times in my adult life, but it’d always seemed to be fleeting.

I would miss my friends. My family. My home. But I would not miss the person I was there. I had a chance to start over without the baggage. Without the shame. People would experience me as a man with a clean slate.

imageThere’s a funny story about my first weekend in Vancouver. It involves my fiancée, Shannon. I’d been in Vancouver only a few days when I met her. While she would prefer the story told of us meeting at a party, the truth is we met on Plenty of Fish where online dating is the equivalent of trying to dissuade a suicide bomber long enough to escape the blast radius.

It was an early Sunday afternoon, 5 full days after I’d arrived, and it nearly didn’t happen. We were both feeling the pain from a night of drinking in our separate worlds, but we’d really enjoyed our conversation on the site. (Side note: I won her over with my very first question; if you were stranded on an island and only had one show to watch and it was either Firefly or Buffy, what would you choose?)

So we met. And we had a wonderful time. We saw Life of Pi together. We laughed a lot during our coffee before the show. We both walked away having really enjoyed the afternoon, but both deciding it would stay as a real swell friendship.

Then we saw each other again.

And again.

And pretty soon we spent most of our time together.

image_3It wasn’t just that we could make each other laugh easily. Or the fact that we could talk about any topic, intellectual or simple, but that she challenged me to be a better man without the demand of me becoming one. That alone was enough to take a long look inside and see the patterns that had long been waylaying me.

Then I had a new freedom that I’d never experienced my entire life. Because I saw my life for what it was, that I’d made choices I could blame no one else for. And at the end of that realization was Shannon, still standing with me. And I loved her for it.

Many of you have seen my life grow with her. You have read my posts about the child I’m having with her. About me proposing to her even in light of my negative views on marriage after having barely survived my first.

It’s the first time in my life I know I’ve made a right decision in my personal life and I won’t lose sight of that.

I’ve managed to do a lot with my career. I took a short stint with Black Tusk Studios and worked on a triple A videogame. I learned a lot, probably the most valuable lesson being able to work with a team of creative people. While I enjoyed it, I realized that it wasn’t the direction I wanted to go with my career.

rqstaplesIn that time I launched Rat Queens, which has gone on to be my most successful and personally rewarding pieces of work I’ve ever done. Not just because it’s been a joy to write and to collaborate with Roc on, but because of the experience I’ve had with the fans who love it.

To hear that it was nominated for an Eisner was a real shock. I think I’d always just thought of it as an important book within the community that supported it, but to be recognized on that level was probably what I needed to adjust the view of my own work. I’m eternally hard on myself.

Still, I strive to be better.

In writing and in life.

I miss home. I miss my family. My friends. My heart is still in Saskatoon in a lot of ways, but my new life is here. Next to Shannon and Willow.

And from that vantage point, the future looks brighter than ever.

Here’s to year 35.


Conan: Blood of the Cossian Fallen – An RPG Podcast

Last Friday I sat down with three friends to play the very first session of our Conan d20 game. We also decided to record the session and, while I’m not sure yet if that was a good idea, the concept is to post the sessions and have an ongoing podcast of our adventures. While it seemed like a narrative driven firecracker, I suspect that might’ve been the cider talking.

So, here is the basic premise followed by the write up that I read to the players at the start of the session. My players were: Jordan Groves, Lonnie Nadler and Zac Thompson. All three were new to the system and two were unfamiliar with the Conan setting.

The premise is that all three characters are ages 14-16, on their first hunt with their parents who are the protectorates of the village. Should they succeed, they are inducted into the Blood, the elite warrior caste of their village and, when the time comes, replace their parents when they inevitably die in battle.


Tonight the skies are clear and the stars paint the sky with good omen. It has been a long journey. Three days, three nights. Your muscles and bones ache, the needling cold of your trek through the Eiglophian Mountains still stabbing through you despite the raging fire you’re gathered around. All of you have survived the peril and, despite wearing a mask of bravado, the experience has taken a physical and spiritual toll.Image

Crom has demanded much of you, yet this is only a brief respite on the night before your first hunt. It is as it has been for five hundred years before you came bloody and screaming into the world and as it shall be long after you die in the same glorious way.

The Blood, your parents whom one day you will replace, mock your youth. As you gather around the fire, leeching warmth like your body has never known it, they pass around a tattered waterskin and drink deeply of mead. Their veins course with it. You have not earned the right to drink from the ceremonial artifact, the skin they call The Gut.

As Chief Torgun and his pack of mongrel warriors taunt and roughhouse, a light arcs across the sky and suddenly all is quiet. All eyes turn to the burning star.

“Crom has vanquished his enemies, casting them from the heavens to the abyss.” the chief mutters. “It is the sign we will have a fortuitous hunt.”

The Blood nod and mutter, slowly passing the Gut between them.

The chief sits in the circle by the fire. His eyes are open but see not the physical world. They see the fate of his people in the young blood gathered around him.

“For five hundred years, our clan, the chosen of Crom, have survived in the shadow of the Eiglophian giantess. Her mighty stones have protected us from the vermin Pict, sent the replenishing waters from her eyes and nourished our people with the milk of her breast. For five hundred years we have protected her and for five hundred years the burning star has signaled triumph.”

A silence hangs as he looks to each of you. A life time of battle and blood pools in his gaze.

“But you are not immortal. Crom does not protect the weak. He casts aside the mewling whelp. Chews on the bones of the coward. To survive, to become one with the tradition of the Cossian tribe, you must survive while Crom taunts your inevitable failure from the heavens. Be at peace with his vulgar disdain, make it a lover and fuck it. Only then can you prove to Crom you are worthy.”

Another pause as a wild grin scrawls across his scarred face.

“Because I can promise you one thing. Crom will fuck you if given the chance to do so.”

ImageThe Blood erupts in laughter and cheers. Heavy hands crack across the backs of your heads. Tonight, your weakness is their entertainment.

You sit for painful hours as you wait for your parents to fall prey to their debauchery, respecting the tradition of the hunt until they have all fallen to blackness from drink.

Then, finally, not hours from the coming sun, you fall asleep and dream of glory, honour…

And, more than anything, fear Crom descending from the heavens and fucking your skull to pieces. 

When you wake, it’s not with a warm sun on your face, but a boot of shit and mud and guttural laughter from your fathers. Here, at the foot of the mountain, the sun is barely casting light in the deep shadowed valley. The Blood are ready to fall on the trail and head into the dark woods that lie across the river. A hazy, wet fog greets your morning.

This is the day you shed first blood. And, if you survive, the day you become a warrior of the Cossian people. 


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