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I could tell you that the author is a middle class, middle age white dude with a generic wife and a generic pet who lives somewhere vaguely rural...but aren't they all?
F%$! that noise! There are Author Bios and then there's Mythos.
Welcome to the Mythos of Macronomicon.
Macronomicon is almost three years old now, hatched on the open-mic writing website Royal Road. The pen name burst from the cocoon of blissful ignorance and deposited his first humble contribution into the world of writing, tired and sticky, yet satisfied. Content in the knowledge his work would be warmly received by thousands of potential fans, and more importantly...friends.
The first comment was, “Can you, I don't know, make the main character less stupid?”
That was sobering.
Macronomicon has no actual weight, because he is a pen name, and while his existence is ephemeral, he does have a presence, often stalking the back-channels of Discord like a novelty vampire, waiting to suck nourishing creativity out of unfortunate* fans.
Macronomicon has a talent for brainstorming and stringing together disparate ideas into a cohesive story. That talent has been strengthened and built upon to form the foundation of his writing career. He once outlined the plot (quality notwithstanding) of an entire book from start to finish in a tiny room with nothing but Cheerios, beef jerky, Pepsi and B.O.**
If you wish to hunt for the elusive Macronomicon, you may find him at Royal Road, where he began, or Patreon, where he works*** at distilling new stories from a raw, chunky slurry of ideas.
*Or fortunate, depending on your point of view. The sucking is consensual.
**Quality of B.O. also notwithstanding.
*** Working is subjective.
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After sort-of saving the day months ago, he's got a nuclear bomb attached to him in the Fate dimension, where magic and potential collide.
Jeb just wants to defuse himself before he collapses into a sickly pile of green goo or ignites in a city-destroying blast.
There's just one problem: The world doesn't slow down because you've got a nuclear hangnail. Mab, Queen of the Fae wants him for unknown, yet most likely sinister reasons. A mysterious, abhorrent entity is making him an offer he can't refuse, and the undead are getting organized.
The bomb can wait...Right?
Two months later the vet is participating in underground trials of ecstacy to treat his PTSD.
Everything seemed to be going great until...
>>>The System has Been Installed<<<
Now he's got to choose the difficulty of his tutorial.
Just one problem.
He's high as a kite, and nothing seems Impossible.
Until a little girl is in trouble.
It wasn't meant to last.
A group of human extremists are scavenging nuclear bombs from the corpse of Las Vegas, and they intend to use them to wipe Solmnath off the map.
And behind them? Something...stranger.