Behind the Scenes of Season 2, What’s Brewing at Moxie Studios, and a Look Ahead at Season 3

This episode is for the people who stuck around. The ones who know that real creativity doesn’t run on launch calendars. It runs on healing.

In this bonus episode, I’m pulling back the curtain on what really happened between Season 1 and Season 2—everything from storm damage, caregiving, grief, and chronic health recovery to the soul-stretching journey of building Moxie Studios in Vancouver.

I talk about why I had to delay Season 2, what I’ve learned about legacy in the slow moments, and what’s coming next for The School of Moxie Podcast (spoiler: Season 3 is back to guest interviews, pop culture, and big energy inside the new studio).

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Transcript

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Sometimes the season isn't delayed. It's just on time for a version of you that hasn't arrived yet. You think you're behind. You think you've lost the spark, but really you're in the goo. The place where the old shape doesn't fit and the new one hasn't formed yet. This episode is about that goo. Why season two took a year, how my entire life flipped in the in-between, and what I'm building now because of it, not in spite of it. Hey, hey, it's Mary Williams and this is the School of Moxie podcast and this, this is the bonus episode I did not plan, but I absolutely needed to record. It's a behind the scenes update. It's a love letter. It's a little bit of closure and a whole lot of foreshadowing. Let's talk about what really happened over the last year, why this season came when it did, and where the hell we're going next. Let's start with what most people saw. Season one ended and then nothing. Season two was coming, but a few months passed, then six, then a year. And in the world of podcasting, we all know what that usually means, right? The show's over the pod faded. Another dream that didn't pan out. Except that's not what happened here. Here's the truth. Right after season one wrapped, I found myself in a full blown life plot twist. In January, 2024, the Pacific Northwest got hit with a brutal ice storm. My parents were in Taiwan visiting family. I was supposed to go with them, but something in my body said no. I was exhausted from producing season one across studios all over the world, and I trusted myself. Thank God I did because that storm, it trapped me inside my own house for five days, and by the time I reached my parents' place, the roof was leaking and the subfloor was at risk. So while my parents were abroad, I became a construction project manager. I was calling contractors, wrangling insurance adjusters, managing repairs on top of running my own business and trying to heal from complete burnout. This came right after my dad had a serious fall that landed him in the hospital and suddenly I was in full caregiver mode. No assistance, no partners, just me, my cat, and my people. And here's the thing I want to say out loud. I do not do burnout culture anymore, so when my life demanded more of me, my content went on pause. I kept my large retainer clients. I did the unsexy work behind the scenes. I didn't burn it all down to push through. And yeah, I lost people, friends who couldn't understand why I suddenly did not have time for them. Collaborators who made assumptions. People who equated visibility with vitality. But what I gained was so much better because in the second half of 2024, I rebuilt my entire support system. The people in my life now really get it. They're not performative, they're present. And then I also had to grieve. My soul cat Mr. Giles died. He was my anchor, my shadow, my little grumpy butler in cat form, and after nearly 17 years together, I was wrecked. But as cats tend to do two tiny toasted marshmallow brothers named Damon and Stefan Salvatore showed up and life began again. Not the same, but soft and real. I didn't walk away from the podcast. I just stopped forcing myself to perform when what I needed was to heal. And in that quiet, in that stillness, something bigger started brewing. You've heard me drop little Easter eggs all season. Mentions of a studio, talk of new things coming. Well, here's the news. I am now currently building Moxie Studios in Vancouver, Washington. Not a scrappy side project, a real ass studio with sets and lights and cameras and pro sound with the same warmth and craftsmanship I've always brought to content, but now in a dedicated space. At the time of this recording, I'm waiting to hear if I'll be awarded a grant from a local incubator that would secure a subsidized office to bring it all to life. But they're not the only ones. If it's not that space, it will be another. The business plan is real. The demand is real. The need is real. And honestly, it's kind of scary, like might pee my pants kind of scary, but also it's right and it is time. And if I had tried to rush into season two a year ago, I wouldn't have had the space to dream this up. The long game made room for something I couldn't see yet. And I think that's the most Ted Lasso thing of all, choosing what's right over what's fast. Choosing people over performance. Choosing legacy over virality. Moxie Studios is being built from that place. So what's next? Season three of the School of Moxie podcast is going back to the roots, back to conversation, back to real humans in real rooms, talking about the shows and movies that shaped them. Because all this water cooler talk, that's culture, it's how we connect, it's how we remember we are alive. I'll be bringing people into the studio whenever possible. I want eye contact. I want nervous laughter. I want the electric magic that only happens when two people share space, and for those I can't sit with in person, we'll still talk because the stories are worth it and frankly, the world doesn't need more polished thought leaders. It needs more real conversation. This is how we normalize joy and desire, comfort and curiosity. It's okay to love what you love. It's okay to want what you want. And anyone who tells you that your favorite show doesn't matter is missing the whole damn fucking point. Finishing season two feels vulnerable as hell because it became a manifesto. It's a reckoning and a roar. I said what needed to be said, and I'm sure someone listening thinks this is all about them. Spoiler, it's not. But if your ego thinks it's about you, I'd say maybe that's your mirror to look into. My friends call me a dinosaur in internet years, and they're not wrong. I have seen it all and I've seen too many burnouts, too many spin outs, too many short-term stars, flame out. I am not that. I am resilient. I am consistent. I am a fucking cockroach with a podcast mic and I will always come back swinging. This podcast is my long game. This studio is my long game. This message, it's not trendy, but it is true. If you've been listening this season and thinking, damn, I needed to hear that, then good because I needed to say it, and I'm not done. Not even close. Thanks for listening to this bonus episode of The School of Moxie podcast. I'm Mary Williams, founder of Moxie Studios in Vancouver, Washington. Subscribe on your favorite podcast app and YouTube. Leave a five star review if this season moved you and send it to a biz bestie who's also ready to stop pretending and start building for real. I'll be back soon with season three in a new studio, in a new era with the same voice you can always count on. Until then, keep your heart open, keep your boundaries solid, and your mic fucking warm. I'll see you soon.