About Wolf Wears Wool
Wolf Wears Wool follows the forays of Simon Crane, a young man-turned-werewolf who joins forces with a drug dealer and an herbologist to form a team of impromptu ghostbusters. En lieu of their rambles, bumbles and tumbles as semi-professional spookwranglers, Simon quests to cure his own condition and become truly human again, with the aid of brightly tenacious Ursula and the enigmatic Englishman whose real name may never be known.
. . . That’s the nub and gist of it, anyway.
Yes, but why . . .?
I think the simplest answer I can give is that I love werewolves, but it’s ridiculously difficult for me to find ones that suit my particular fancy. To me, a werewolf is defined as . . .
1. Someone who transforms only beneath a full moon . . .
2. . . . has no choice in the matter
3. . . . and does not keep their mind when in their wolf form.
. . . They become a mindless, vicious, bloodthirsty monster for one night each month and there’s jolly well nothing they can do about it. Funnily enough, I have extraordinary difficulty finding this sort of selenolupine (and especially without having to wade through slogs of vampires to get to it) . . . Ergo, I make my own.
Fine, fine. So when do you update?
Mondays and Fridays (God willing).
How did this thing come about in the first place?
About five years ago, my best mate, Carlea had the idea to explore the explorations of a pair of supernatural investigators, and thus Simon and R. were born. Though we mapped out several story ideas for cases, we never completed the overarching plot. Nonetheless, these guys stuck with me afterward and I kept telling myself that I wanted to DO SOMETHING with them. At that point in my life, however, I was in college and hadn’t the time or headspace to do so, hence, Simon and R. loitered round my brain, scratching their bums for another half decade.
After I lost my job, I found myself with far too much free time on my hands (as well as a need for some happy distraction), and finally, the boys made it out of my cranium and onto the page.
Though the series is written and drawn my myself, Carlea remains a creative consultant (i.e. my go-to-gal when I need to know if something makes sense, would Simon do this, does this just plain suck, et cetera), as well as Simon and Aurelia’s original creator. To this day, she and I gather for tea and creative synergy on a weekly basis whenever possible and have been known to dissolve into fits of hilarity over impromptu hand puppets drawn on sticky-notes as well as routines involving cockney talk and comedic injury (and the potentially lethal combination thereof) . . . How fitting that she helps me to keep this project from becoming too ridiculous.
(You can (and SHOULD!) visit Carlea at her blog here: http://hourofgold.wordpress.com)
Can I contact you?
Oh aye. Email address is here; email@example.com
You may write to me in English, ou vous pouvez m’ecrire en Francais.
And who are you . . . ?
Me? I’m dull . . . I’m a former art director/children’s illustrator now currently working as a jaunty cat slave at my local animal shelter data entry drone, inventory logger and general second-pair-of-hands at a lighting store. I live in a one-room flat with two betta fish, two frogs and two nubbin-tailed cats, and can usually be found with a pencil/stylus in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. I like French films, Japanese food, English comedy and literature/history of all kinds. Classical is my favourite flavour of music, Scrabble is my game-ly cup of tea and anything mint-related will have me eating out of your hand (both literally and figuratively). Never ask me to sing. Because I will. And you will be very sorry you did/I did.