Name: Wren Rosman

Play-By: Malavika Mohanan

Age: 27

Occupation: Wanna-be author, rejection letter collector.

Birth Place: Brooklyn, New York

Sexuality: Equal opportunity employer.



Physical Description: Of Eastern-Indian and Jewish descent, Wren has caramel-colored skin, a wild mane of dark brown hair and large black eyes. When she talks, her lips pull into a sideways grin, as if she and the universe are in on some private, cosmic joke. At 5'8", she is solidly built with wide hips, large breasts and a small waist (thicc!). Thai takeaway and days spent grueling over her keyboard have stolen more muscle tone than she’d like to admit, but there are still a few glimmers of her high school basketball days around her abs and thighs. A big ol' apple-bum is by far her best feature, and she seizes every boy-short opportunity to show it off.

Distinguishing Marks:A small scar beneath her chin from a fight in high school; a lead-colored scar on her knee from where her college roommate stabbed her with a pencil.

Personality: While Wren considers herself kind, empathetic, curious and playful, others have described her as loud, aggressive, flaky and superior. She's known for becoming instantly devoted and deeply passionate over a person, project or cause, but when she's done (or bored), she can just as easily wipe her hands and walk away. She does what she promises (and therefore doesn't make promises often), and is incredibly loyal to the people who have proven themselves worthy of her full attention. All in all, once you've been committed to Wren's inner circle, she’s the foul-mouthed, ride-or-die friend you want beside you in a bar fight, or in the desert burying bodies.



Background: Young immigrant cab-driver dad. Sexy waitress mom. It's brunch time at Hector's, an old-school diner out on Little and Washington. Dad sits down on a break from steering a Yellow, orders a cuppa with half-n-half. Hungover mom sets down the coffee, a few packets of cream and sugar, but no utensils. As she’s halfway to the next table, dad says: “Honey, I need a stir.” Lips pinched in a mask of put-on polite, Mom heads back to the table, sticks her pinky in the coffee, gives it a swirl and asks: “Anything else?”

What he got was love. Then came marriage, then Wren's big brother Elijah in the baby carriage. Then Noah. Then Micah. Then Wren herself. Enter a whole lot of normal. Family was the center of her universe, and it was filled with love and support and constant, good-natured bickering. No one was allowed to be down, no sad pandas, no matter how many quarters they had to fish from the couch cushions, how worn their second-hand clothes, how many nights they filled their guts with noodles and butter.

Of course, her parent’s families hated each other for what they would never be, and her family was barely welcomed at every bar mitzvah and Eid al-Fitr celebration. Weirdly enough, they all thrived on the displeasure. They were a beautiful mess, and they were honestly and truly happy.

Until her dad was shot and killed a week before Wren's 14th birthday.

Things changed after that, in ways Wren won’t talk about. It’s likely what prompted her risk-taking and rebellious streak, as well as her escapism into books and writing.




Likes: Her dog, Dookie the Chowhound (a french bulldog mix); chili-chocolate; weed; stove-top popcorn; a good dive bar, complete with cheap drinks and a crowded dance floor; a DGB (damn good book, preferably by Neil Gaiman); rainstorms. Having never really left NYC (except for LA), she’s curious about things like fishing and camping and nature--she hears trees are pretty nice.

Dislikes: Temperatures over 80 degrees; turning on her internal filter; sitting still.


Strengths: No matter the obstacle, Wren plows through it head-on, practically with blinders. Her ability to detach when necessary borders on magical.



Weaknesses: Patience, and subsequently, impulsivity. A big mouth that runs off just a little too often.

Fears: What's fear? But also, losing someone close to her.

Fun Facts: (little things most people don't know about you): Wren hates talking on the phone and doesn't have a Facebook page. She will never admit she can belt out every song in Les Miserable. She speaks a little bit of Punjabi. Owns a pair of panties that says: "It ain't gonna spank itself."

The Perfect Guy/Girl for You: Someone who challenges her. A sense of humor, a little twisted, who can appreciate the beauty in the seedy underbelly. Being sexually playful and adventurous is a must.