Finn Marlot Stinger

Finn Marlot Stinger
Texteditor. Ghostwriter. Enigma with a thesaurus.

For years, Finn Marlot Stinger was the literary world’s best-kept secret—whispered about in footnotes, thanked in the acknowledgements only as “F.” He edited manifestos in motel rooms, ghostwrote memoirs for people who couldn’t spell their own names, and once allegedly rewrote a Nobel laureate’s entire speech during a turbulence-heavy flight over the Atlantic.

Then, one day, he vanished from the inboxes of the rich and rhetorically challenged. He reemerged months later, sporting a well-worn leather notebook and a faint scent of ink and espresso, with a book of his own—a brooding, clever, and oddly moving tale that no one could quite explain but everyone kept reading.

Now, Finn writes under his real name (we think), spins stories from the shadows of his past clients, and drinks black coffee like it holds all the answers. Which, knowing Finn, it might.