Alexandra was born at an extraordinary young age in Hanover, Germany, to English speaking parents, which confused the hell out of her. It was the year Sputnik made headlines and people were exploding atomic bombs in the desert. Not that the desert had done anything to deserve this treatment. Despite the young age of three, she sailed with her treasured Bushbaby from England to Hong Kong, a journey that took almost three months. She was accompanied by a number of big people who claimed to be her family, though to this day she still isn’t sure who they are. She does, however, like it when they send her birthday cards and Christmas gifts.
During her formative years Alexandra was hauled round the planet at an alarming rate, moving approximately every two to three years. Consequently she knows a lot about geography, languages, people, foreign cuisine and really big bugs, which she used to collect and stick pins in. She no longer has the bug collection but she does have fond memories of all the exotic and not so exotic places she visited and the people she met.
And yes, it’s true, she loves Marmite.
Alexandra now lives in Québec City, Canada, with her long time partner, a library-sized collection of books, and an unhealthy amount of toys.
It should be noted, unless otherwise stated, that Alexandra Wolfe not only writes short stories and novels, but also specializes in writing situational comedies and space opera for TV and film. She has first hand experience on writing pathos, drama, and ongoing romantic disasters for any number of movies and none-existent TV shows that subsequently languished in development hell. She has also hatched many a diabolic plot to blow up this week’s equivalent of the Death Star, while warding off an episodic drama’s forty-four minute dilemma of the day. All the while wrangling her characters with wit, daring, dignity and, at times, the necessary farcical aplomb.
If, as a deviously fiendish writer, Alexandra meets with your current and or future project’s needs, then by all means contact her at your earliest inconvenience.
For fake glowing references and further inflammatory details, you can email her. Or, if you are a producer, publisher, publicist, or an agent, you can contact her by that early twentieth century invention, the telephone. You can then swap stories about all the shows, movies, or books neither of you have ever worked on.
She looks forward to hearing from you.