Adam Vahn
Fiction written in the hours illness could not take.
Adam Vahn writes near-future fiction about institutions, technology, conflict, and the human lives hidden inside systems.
For more than two years, Adam has been fighting cancer. The prognosis is good, but chemotherapy has reshaped the ordinary architecture of his days: sleep arrives unpredictably, nausea has its own timetable, and the body does not always respect a calendar.
Writing became both refuge and discipline. During the hardest stretches, he has often written for as many as twenty hours a day, seven days a week, not as a performance of productivity but because the work offers somewhere else to be. A manuscript can turn a sleepless night into movement. A fictional crisis can be solved one sentence at a time, even when the real one cannot.
That experience runs beneath the books without turning them into memoir. His fiction is concerned with the moment a person becomes a category, a file, a target, a delay, or a problem a system has learned to route elsewhere. The stories remain grounded in people trying to care for one another while the machinery around them insists that care is inefficient, suspicious, or unauthorized.
Adam is making a determined effort to be present online, though he freely admits that social media strategy is not his native language. He would rather write the next chapter than decode an algorithm, but readers, writers, and thoughtful conversation are worth the attempt.