Benjamin X. Wretlind
Benjamin X. Wretlind is a speculative fiction author who writes science fiction, dark fantasy, magical realism, and some horror. He has been--at different times, of course–a fry cook, range boy, greens maintenance technician, reservations agent, room service attendant, editor, banquet server, meteorologist, instructor, program manager for Internet applications, curriculum developer, training simulation engineer, leadership facilitator/coach, process improvement consultant, learning manager and organizational psychologist. He currently builds and facilitates leadership courses at Yale.
Benjamin is the creator of the Transit series of novels, which has been called “an engaging, personality-driven tale with detailed SF worldbuilding.” He has also written and published many novels, collections, and the weirdest creative writing book ever. Owing his life’s viewpoint to Bob Ross, he has also painted a few things, thrown a few paintings away, and probably has a painting on an easel right now. Oh, and he loves wood working, too.
It’s all about creating.
Benjamin lives with his wife Jesse in Colorado.
“That's the way it is with bullies, Grandma told me once. You give them an inch and they'll run you through with a knife.”
“I've always believed there are moments in our lives which can be defined as a transition between the before and after, between the cause and the effect.”
“There was no longer a wellspring of tears or a firestorm of rage. The surge of feeling that enveloped Nathan James the last few weeks like a disastrous hurricane had now ebbed and dissipated, leaving only a dull numbness, a grey blanket of cold, emotional isolation. It was a good feeling to have when you wanted to exact revenge.”
“From the town on the edge of obscurity with a post office and general store to the city with the mega malls and towering skyscrapers that scream of American Genericality, there is use for a dead cheerleader, a werewolf carrying business cards and a vampire fishing off a rickety pier.”
“There are moments in my life that stick to my memory. I suppose it's the same for everyone—snippets of life pasted in a scrapbook for you to look over every once in a while. You look back sometimes and relive an event, a smell or a sight. You catalog these things in your head and never really look at the whole. I think you miss something grand when you don't step back and examine everything together.”