Damon Wolfe is a figment of his own imagination. He writes stories for people to read because he thought that would be a good thing to do. He is the author of THUNDRHED!, but not the author of Tanglewood. That’s a different guy.
When not doing mundane things that you don’t care about, he divides his time between adventurous barbarians, pirates, dragons, monsters, space ships and existential crises, little of which he takes seriously. He has no presence on social media because he doesn’t want one, while casually detesting humanity’s addiction to mobile phones. Nor does he maintain a blog, website or agent, or carefully developed opinions about such things. You might as well address any letters to the man in the moon.
He blames much of this on listening to Billy Connolly albums and reading Fritz Lieber. He could have been a contender, he could have been Dostoevsky! But no, here’s THUNDRHED!, all in capitals, with an exclamation point and it’s spelt wrong. It’s meant to be. He also wonders if Elon Musk might be right about mortal life being a simulation. It’s too ridiculous to be real and this version seems to be glitching, which is probably good.
Do authors always refer to themselves in the third person when penning these little bios, or does someone else write them? Maybe he should have pursued traditional publishing.
Damon Wolfe’s next book will likely be a novella-length piece entitled PIRATE SCUM!, but that’s been on a back burner for twenty-five years, so don’t hold your breath.
