About Gent Wennmo
Gent Wennmo writes fantasy fiction that examines how people navigate complex relationships, moral ambiguity, and the weight of consequence across time. Currently working on a trilogy that explores themes of memory, identity, and the price of power through character-driven narrative.
Did you know?
I write every morning between 5-8 with a few cups of Yorkshire Tea and nothing but the silent city in the background. Three hours of uninterrupted work before the world demands attention — it's the most productive part of my day and where the real writing gets done.
About Me
Hello, I'm Gent—writer, lifelong daydreamer, and the kind of person who grew up loving quiet afternoons, big questions (lots of them), and the constant feeling of not quite fitting in. These days, I write stories about characters who are a little awkward, a little clever, a bit funny, and a lot like the rest of us: figuring things out one chapter at a time. If you've ever felt a bit out of place, you're in good company.
Who I Am
I've always been drawn to the spaces between things: between real life and fantasy, between logic and intuition, between the stories we tell ourselves when we're young and the truths we discover as we grow older. Perhaps it's my neurodivergent sensibility, but I find beauty in the practical and profound alike—in the satisfying swing of an axe splitting wood just as much as in the subtle "magic" that whispers through ancient forests. Then again, who doesn't find these things satisfying?
As someone who is autistic with ADHD, I approach both life and storytelling with a deep appreciation for structure and detail. What might seem like contradictions to others—the need for both routine and creative freedom, the love of both solitude and meaningful connection—makes perfect sense to me. These perspectives shape not just how I write, but what I choose to write about.
My Creative Philosophy
I've always been drawn to characters who don't quite fit the world—because honestly, who does? Real people are complicated, contradictory, and constantly changing, and I think our stories should reflect that. Not every hero needs to be neurotypical. Clichés are boring—I prefer the uneven, the absurd, the surprising (very much unlike how I want my days to go).
My writing celebrates the beauty of being different, the strength found in quiet—and sometimes awkward—people, and the idea that some of life's most important adventures don't happen in our twenties, but in the decades that follow. I write characters who bite their fingers when they think, who find crowds overwhelming, who discover their sexuality slowly over time, and who solve problems through careful observation rather than dramatic action (though sometimes with a sharp edge, when that's what's needed). People like me—and people I've known. Some I've been very fond of... and others I've learned from in less charming ways.
Beyond the Page
When I'm not writing, I'm usually thinking about how to make writing work—as a job, a system, and a sustainable practice. I think a lot about structure: how to break down big projects into manageable pieces, how to make creative work less reliant on last-minute panic, and how to run a writing career like a real business (because, well, it is one). I run my company, Epic Oak, with exactly that in mind: turning stories into something I can build a life around. And I'm always fighting my second nature—which is to procrastinate anything important to me (apparently it's a common trait amongst my kind of people).
I don't love the changing seasons (it should always be late spring heading into early summer). But I do love well-organised notes, a system that actually makes sense (even if only to me), and the way a single question can unravel into three hours of research. One day I might be reading about mediaeval woodworking techniques; the next I'm up to my neck in existential debates about free will (I could talk about that for hours—if anyone's up for it). I like systems, mysteries, and anything that makes the world feel like it still has secrets left.
What Drives Me
At heart, I believe representation matters—not as a checkbox, but as a fundamental truth. Everyone deserves to see themselves as the heroes of compelling stories. I write the kinds of stories I wish I'd found growing up: where being different isn't something to fix, but something that makes life more meaningful.
I'm drawn to the quiet moments of growth—the way people change, how relationships evolve, how time leaves its mark in both painful and beautiful ways. There's something rewarding about creating characters you'd want to grow old with... or grow away from, as life sometimes insists.
And honestly, I write to untangle the things that have been bouncing around in my head for years. Some of it is half-formed or slightly mad; some of it results from long stretches on the couch, thinking about metaphysics. But all of it comes from a need to make sense of the world—and to share something honest while I'm at it.
It still amazes me how I can feel like I understand everything, and yet nothing at all.
Looking Forward
Every day, I'm building something that feels uniquely mine. Stories that blend logic and magic. Characters shaped by the odd patterns and contradictions that make people hard to understand—and occasionally interesting. Narratives that hold on to the idea that some of our best adventures might still be ahead—no matter what season of life we're in.
This is just the beginning. The best stories, after all, are the ones we're still writing.