Below is an interview with indie author Adam Wing, who has written four books. Below he talks about those books along with his writing process, his inspirations, and which famous person owns a copy of one of his works. Check out Adam’s links, and be sure to follow him on social media.
About the author
Name/Pen Name:
Adam Wing
Author Links
About the books
Modern historical fairy tale.
Period-true myth retelling.
Apoca Lypse Sink Ships (Anthology)
Multi-genre anthology, mostly sci-fi, with some fantasy, contemporary fiction, and a little poetry.
Old Man on the Bus (Short Story)
Contemporary fiction
Book summaries
Icarus
A humanist retelling of the ancient myth. Ik was never permitted an ordinary life—has never known companionship, even company. In a chance encounter, he finds, for the first time, a friend, a reason to exist—if Ik’s father doesn’t rip them apart … and if they survive the dangers that lay before them.
Matriarch
Cass rides waves of grief as her dying Gran spins the last tale she’ll ever tell, the 100-year-old yarn of her late husband. It’s story of adventure and magic, of monsters and true love. But something else lurks in her words. Past and present collide as secrets are revealed, and as one woman’s future draws to its inevitable close, another’s is thrown into doubt.
Apoca Lypse Sink Ships
Dark, stark, and whimsical. Sometimes funny. Always strange. A book of weird stories with ABSOLUTELY NO SHIPS in it.
Old Man on the Bus
Follow an old man on his journey home from work. His pain will be your pain.
Book excerpts
Matriarch
The bank rose into another bluff. This was it, she thought, grasping at weeds as she scrambled up the wet slope. If she was going to risk her life to save this fool, it would have to be here. Atop the rise, she found herself abreast of the tree. Without hesitating, without slowing her stride, she sprinted toward the river.
And she leapt.
Ayla’s stomach rose as the ground dropped away. Distance seemed to telescope before her. Her heart threatened to burst. Time congealed around her body, and for a pitched eternity the tree floated motionless below. She held her breath. Hot blood churned within her as the sheen of rainwater and sweat froze against her skin.
Time snapped back into motion, and the tree lunged up like a viper.
Ayla near swallowed her tongue as her feet cleared the crown of roots by cold inches. She landed hard, hugging the bow as she toppled into a skid. A hot wave of scratches and cuts washed up her body, and a woolly musk filled her nostrils. Wet cedar.
She coughed twice and blinked. I can’t believe I just did that.
The tree was old, thick at its base. Ayla managed to hold purchase as she cautiously found her feet. God be with me, she prayed, picking unsteadily through broken branches and limbs. God, don’t let me die saving an idiot. The wood beneath her feet shifted with every step, but it did not roll, and she managed to navigate to where the drowning man still clung.
“Good afternoon.” The man spoke in Turkish, with an accent she attributed more to his face being halfway underwater than to any particular country. “Might you—be good enough to—see me out of—this predicame—”
Icarus
Onetas glanced down. At the sight of his arm, he let out an odd little hiccup, somewhere between a yelp and bark of laughter. “Oh. Yeah.” He tried to close the inflamed sausages his fingers were fast becoming. “I stung myself a bit grabbing those things.”
A bit? Ik took a step closer. He could see at least a dozen large visible stings.
“It’s fine,” Onetas coughed, but the lines on his face betrayed growing pain and concern. “I’ve had worse.” He gulped hard, swallowing down the beginnings of a whimper.
Ik shook his head. He put his back to the boy. Good, he thought, resuming his trek up the path. He doubted Onetas would have the strength to chase him now. Serves him right. He’ll think twice before bothering me again! After a minute or so though, his curiosity got the better of him, and he snuck another peek at his tormenter. Onetas had sunk to the ground beside the basket. He was holding his arm, staring at its swollen digits with a mixture of curiosity and horror.
Go home, Father’s voice commanded. Somehow it sounded distant. Don’t you talk to him again. Ik kicked at a rock and watched as it bounced and flipped up the path, clacking in the direction he knew he should be headed. Then he took a step the other way.
Onetas’s eyes were glassy and wide. “I’m okay,” he mumbled numbly as Ik approached, though he clearly was not. “It’s … it’s fine.”
“Come on,” Ik offered, crouching beside him. “We can wash your arm in sand and seawater; that’ll help with the swelling. Then I’ll show you how you’re supposed to pick up a jellyfish and you can help me gather the ones you threw in the dirt.”
Apoca Lypse Sink Ships
HOURS slid by in a haze. A concourse of travellers grew around me, suits, dresses and school uniforms, pressed together into the narrow car, hundreds of strangers swaying and shaking to the track’s clacking rhythm. I woke and I slept, drifting seamlessly, claustrophobically between states. My mind registered the crush of people, the tramp of their feet and rustle of clothing as they eddied through the tight space, boarding and exiting in turn. More like a dream than anything real.
Formless thoughts and visions flowed through my head, indistinct from reality. I saw David’s bottomless grey eyes. I relived the time we went to the beach and I got stung by a sea urchin. Then I was back home, in my usual spot at that bar I hate with friends who had dragged me out. They claimed they liked the music. In another moment, I was leaving. Leaving the bar. Leaving friends I didn’t really like. Coming here, and then turning right around to leave again. I dreamt I was on a plane. I dreamt I was in space.
I wasn’t the only one asleep on that train. Any direction you looked, you’d find at least a few drowsing passengers. Against windows and walls, slumped forward as I was, even standing. In a nearby seat, an ancient obaachan (grandmother) sat with closed eyes, curled around a bag of snack cakes quite nearly as big as she was—travel gifts for friends and family, no doubt. These, she clutched to her chest as if they were about to make a break for it. She hadn’t stirred once since I first caught sight of her. When we arrived at her stop though, experience told me she would be up and awake in a second, shuffling out the door to deliver her treats.
Old Man on the Bus
His fingers are slow. Each button is an effort, but a gradual split grows down the front of his shirt. The Stallion Security logo embroidered to his chest vanishes as the garment falls open. Shrugging free, he stuffs it into a maroon laundry bag. Next go his slacks. The old man dons his street clothes as slowly and carefully as he undressed. He drops the laundry bag in a half-full bin, then steps out of the locker room. By the time he makes it to the elevator, up into the lobby, and out the side doors to the bus stop, his wristwatch reads 12:12 AM. Twenty-two minutes past the end of his shift.
The old man does not sit, but stands behind the stop’s bench. He offers a glance to the fresh stain puddled across its seat. Puddled over last night’s stain—over the previous night’s, and as many nights before as could well reach the Cretaceous. Resting forward on the seatback, he shifts from one foot to the other, watching for the lights of his homebound chariot.
The city is quiet at this hour. Few cars wander the streets. Fewer busses. The old man’s will be the last for its route. If it were scheduled to come a little earlier—if he got off work just a few minutes later—he could not have taken this job when it was offered three weeks ago; he would have had no way to get home. Lucky how things work out.
The old man covers a yawn with the back of his wrist. He offers three slow blinks, then yawns again. He continues to shift his weight, lifting and shaking each ankle as his body sways.
The bus arrives on time.
Book review excerpts
Matriarch
What an imaginative tale, full of magic and twists I did NOT see coming! The way Adam writes, the way he weaves his words together, is beautiful. A fairly quick read, this novella is exciting and sends the reader away wondering about love and life and if our reality is, indeed, real.
Icarus
Icarus by author Adam Wing is a clever and well written interpretation of a classic myth, taking characters from a famous story and giving them new depth.
I am in love with Adam Wing’s writing. No sentence, no word, no clause has been placed without care and forethought, making for a vivid and engaging read. I’m a big fan of metaphor and literary words and they abound in this book. The literary words give it class; the metaphors are never too far out there, yet imaginative enough for the mind to create a beautiful comparison. The narration carries the confidence of a seasoned storyteller, whether it’s intentional or not, and it works wonderfully for this tale.
Apoca Lypse Sink Ships
This short story collection is an extremely varied lot, which would make it an interesting experience in its own right. The stories are often fun, exciting, and weird; always clever and intense. Serious whoa moments when you start figuring out what’s going on in some of these.
The Other Man in the Bathroom and After the Seraphim were my favorites.
Old Man on the Bus
This slice-of-life short story about a very tired man, advanced in years, attempting to make his way safely home after a late-night work shift read almost like a horror story to me although I don’t believe it is intentionally written to fit into that genre. Anyone who has experienced the loss of autonomy that comes with riding public transportation or with aging will feel the intensity of the journey, both literal and metaphorical, that this story takes you on. The author sets the scene so clearly, the little details making every moment so visceral and relatable that it was impossible not to be moved. A short tale that packs a big emotional punch.
Talking Shop
What is the central theme or message of your story? What do you want readers to take away from it?
Isolation is a theme in my writing. I never realized that until recently, but it’s pretty much always been true. Says a bit about me probably. (Ha ha.) I like characters who feel alone, whether they’re truly by themselves, or lonesome in a crowded room. I think connections feel so much more powerful and are probably best explored through the eyes of people who don’t have a lot of them.
Family is another theme that finds its way into a lot of my work—both blood, and found family. This is always shown as complicated though, often toxic. (Incidentally, I have a wonderful family, so try not to read to much into that.) I’m not so interested in showing love as a force that conquers all. As something that will save us. I want to see it in conflict with other needs and priorities. I like to challenge love in my works and apply love as a challenge to other things.
Both these themes are particularly present in Icarus and Matriarch. And in the novel I’m currently working on.
How have you promoted your books? What has worked best? What has failed?
I mostly promote on Twitter. Boring I know. I’ve had some small success with certain strategies and tactics though. As I was approaching my first thousand followers, I reached out to #950 to #1001 to offer a free digital copy of Icarus, my first (and at that time only) book. I found some die-hard fans this way who haven’t stopped recommending me to others since.
Most the things I’ve tried that didn’t work out have been paid ads. Mostly Facebook. No success there.
Did you use any professional services before publishing your book? Are there any you recommend to indie authors?
My first novel was published with a third-party indie publisher. They were good in a lot of ways, set up things I would never have known or thought to set up. But bad in other ways. There were some major issues with formatting and design.
After that, I went 100% self-published. I did the covers Apoca Lypse Sink Ships and Old Man on the Bus myself. (That’s why they look ever so slightly amateurish.) But I hired a professional designer for Matriarch (ebooklaunch.com). And I LOVE what they created. I had no idea what I wanted my cover to look like, and created a freaking masterpiece with it. (I mean look at it; it’s STUNNING.)
Name a fact or detail about your story that can’t be found within the pages of your book.
In Icarus, there’s a lot of little nods to other mythological stories, hints about characters and settings that don’t really come into the story. It was a lot fun to include those.
What’s the best review/compliment that you’ve received about your book?
I’ve had some wonderful reviews and it never fails to make my day. But one in particular stands out. Remember I mentioned giving free downloads to my 950th-1001th followers? One of those people—a gay-erotica author who’s become a good friend, and is one of the best writers I’ve ever known (And I don’t even read erotica! And I’m straight!)—DMed me a few days later with a whole essay on how much he enjoyed the book. He began it with the words, “That gutted me.” I mean…
How active are you in the online writing community? How has this community helped you as a writer?
Active … ish? Like I’m ALWAYS on Twitter. (Pretty hard addicted.) And I reach out here and there. I love answering legitimate technical questions, or calls for advice. I love offering positivity. And I do the occasional tagging game or FF. But I’m pretty sunk into Political Twitter. If you go to my feed you’re going to mostly RTs on political posts from people who are smarter than I am. I think I’ve probably lost a lot of followers this way. I’m fine with that.
What famous books can you compare to your own?
I briefly queried Matriarch before self-publishing, so I’ve already got comps on that one. It’s Fried Green Tomatoes meets The Princess Bride. People really liked that.
Icarus might be like The Song of Achilles? I don’t know. I never read it. They’re both period-true Greek Myth retellings, and one of my fans once made the comparison.
What is a fun or strange source of inspiration that ended up in your book?
Icarus was inspired by the Regina Spector song, Lacrimosa. In the song, there’s a lyric:
“God, in Mercy spare me.”
Which I “borrowed” into the novel. I massaged it a bit into “Gods and Mercy, spare me.” Which lead to a whole set of in-universe curse words, “Gods”, “Gods and Mercy”, “Gods’ Piss and Mercy” and “Gods’ Piss”. It made me so happy!
(Side note: I actually had a chance to give a copy of Icarus to Regina Spektor and tell her song inspired my first novel, which was an absolute career highlight for me. I mean, I don’t think she’ll ever read it, but even so.)
How long did it take to write your book from the day you got the idea to write it to the day you published it?
Icarus took me six years, start to finish. But I took a couple years off for more school. (I know people have made it far on an English degree, but I sure wasn’t one of them.) I’m slow though. Really slow. I spent near GRRM amounts of time on a book barely long enough to call a novel.
My next (Apoca Lypse Sink Ships) was a bit fast, I was able to take a lot of old stories, edit them up nice and put them into a book.
Matriarch took me about a year. So I guess I’m getting faster?
How long have you considered yourself a writer? Did you have any formal training, or is it something you learned as you went?
I started my first story in Grade 2. It was about a knight who was challenged to a high-noon dule in a note. That was about as far as I got. I think I tried to make my mom help me write a Dracula novel a year or two after that. She intended it to be four or five pages; I expected four or five hundred. We managed about a half a page.
I really started in Grade 9. Ambitions stories I knew to be powerful and deep—though in truth they read like they were written by a ninth-grader.
I continued from there, off and on, through university, certain I was becoming a truly artful craftsman. Until I realized I SUUUUUUUCKED. Just garbage writing! It was such a desperately bleak revelation. But it was the most important moment in my writing career. I’m a big fan of the idea that it’s good to hate your writing, because only when you can see its many, many, MANY flaws, can you begin to improve.
So that was my training. About as formal as it got for me. Get good at seeing what you don’t like in your work, and try, try, try, try to figure out ways to make it better. I mean, I also have an English degree, but while that was quite helpful in teaching me how to construct a sentence, it didn’t actually amount to much in terms of a fiction writing education.
Who is on your Mt. Rushmore of all time great writers?
George R. R. Martin
(Yeah, I know! But there’s a reason that show was so popular.). GRRM’s been blowing me away since 2001. He carves out good characters, builds his worlds deep, has strong, clean prose, and most of all, builds tension like no one else in existence.
Naomi Novik
Actually, I’ve only read Spinning Silver. It was good though. It was CRAZY good. The way she creates with her scenes. It’s like nothing else.
Michael Chabon
He’s the only writer whose work actually makes me angry. Legitimately. Angry. Because it’s not fair. Because, it’s entirely possible that there’s a finite amount of writing talent in this world, distributed out amongst us, and if this happens to be true, Michael Chabon took WAY more than his assigned share. Nobody should be allowed to write as well as Goddamn Michael Goddamn freaking Chabon!
R. Moxon
Actually, his debut only came out a few months ago (Dec. 2019). He’s mostly a twitter personality. Hell, his follower count is mentioned in the book description! But his boo was something else. It told a kind of story I’ve always dreamed of telling. A story that turns itself inside out, that rips itself apart and re-assembles in ways you could not have imagined in five lifetimes. And it never loses readability in the process. The man is a story-teller. Through-and-through.
Are your books for sale at any book stores? Have you tried any other methods of selling hard copies in person versus online?
I think there’s one Chapters that has copies of Icarus still. Unless they’ve all sold. (Chapters is one of Canada’s answers to Barnes and Noble.) I used to work at that particular store. I’ve done a couple book signings at different stores, where they would sell book direct from the table. At best they were a lot of fun. At worst, I felt like an adult sitting at a child’s lemonade stand with backward ‘e’s on the sign. I don’t know; maybe I’ll go back to them one day, but I’ve had fewer good experiences than sub-par.
What were your expectations for writing and publishing your first book? Have they changed since then?
I didn’t have any. That was the goal in and of itself. Now I have an idea of the kinds of numbers I want to hope for in terms of sales and reviews. But mostly, I just want to hear I’ve moved or impacted people. That’s what I hope for the most.
Do you have a writing ritual or any odd habits or superstitions?
I stick my nose about two inches from the screen.
How well do you handle criticism, either while writing, editing, or reviews? Do you ever use that criticism to change your story?
I try to handle it well? I like the idea of negative criticism as it shows things that need to be better. But I think I can get as defensive as anyone about my work. I feel I’m usually (mostly) pretty good at absorbing it though.
What is the most fun part about writing? The most difficult?
The most fun part of writing is … well, it’s a two-way tie. It’s crafting that perfect, stunning sentence that just pick you up and throws you back to the floor; it’s also getting to those moments in the story when ‘the thing happens’, the anticipation as you find yourself arriving, the churn in your stomach, the excitement as ‘the thing’ begins to happen, the satisfaction when it’s over. It’s like a riding roller coaster. Or having sex.
Do you focus on word count, hours spent writing, page count, or another way to measure your daily or weekly progress?
Less than I should? Maybe? I tell the story I want to tell, and I think it typically makes for the best version of whatever story I’m telling. THAT BEING SAID, one of the reasons Matriarch was so hard to Query is that it was a length agents and publishers generally aren’t looking for, for its genre. Icarus would probably have been the same. I’m a (very) little focussed on word count in my current work in progress, for this reason, but still the story comes first.
“What If” Scenarios
If your book ever becomes a movie, and you get final say over the cast, which actors would you hire to play your characters?
I’ll just do Matriarch for this one:
- Helen Mirren would make an excellent Gran (though they’d have to age her up some), a 119-year-old woman, head of her family, sharp as a razor, with a will that could turn rivers.
- Tuppence Middleton as Cass, Gran’s great granddaughter. Heartbroken that she’s losing this monolithic figure in her life, yet fascinated by this story that has never been told. She could really sell Cass’s shock and uncertainty as the family secrets are revealed.
- Eddie Redmayne as Ollie, a former WWI soldier, travelling through the newly formed nation of Turkey in search of Adventure. (I mean, he’s about fifteen years older than the character, but I think he could pull off mid-twenties.)
- As Ayla (Gran at age 19), I’m not sure. A young Turkish actress who looks like Helen Mirren, I guess?
If you could have one person that you admire, living or dead, read your book, who would it be?
Regina Spector. (I know she has a copy.)
If you could be in a writer’s group with up to four famous writers, who would they be?
- Naomi Novik
- Michael Chabon
- Raphael Bob-Waxberg
- Aaron Sorkin
A wealthy reader buys 100 copies of your book and tells you to hand them out to anyone you wish. Who do you give them to?
Schools and libraries.
Your favorite character that you’ve written comes to life for one day. What do you do together for 24 hours?
I don’t really have a single favorite. Maybe a shortlist. For most of them I guess I’d apologize, and they’d probably spend most the time trying to kill me. I’d probably try to warn some of them.
Your book becomes a best seller. What do you do next?
Write more. Push the paper. Talk to fans. Find great unknown writers to pull into the spotlight.
Just For Fun
Your trademark feature.
My ‘cool guy’ jacket. See my author bio. Or my Twitter profile picture. Or my website.
What legacy do you want to leave behind?
A wake of books that have successfully moved many people.
One bucket list item you’ve completed and one that’s still on your list.
Completed: As I mentioned above, I gave a copy of my first novel to the person who’s work inspired it (who also happens to be one of my favorite artists).
Still on the List: Write a vast, complex story.
Favorite place you’ve visited/place you want to visit.
This is impossible. Paris and London are amazing but so is Arusha. Kyoto is spectacular, but have you ever been to The Oak Tree Tavern?
Food you’d like to win a lifetime supply of.
BBQ ribs. Just stack ‘em outside the door.
Your favorite podcast.
I actually am starting one! Well, my friend’s starting one in which I shall be on. Rite Good with Brent and Wing. Or is it Adam and Brent? I’m not sure. We’re working on it. But even then, my favorite is Quick Question with Soren and Daniel.
The topic you can’t shut up about/the topic you wish everyone would shut up about.
Writing. I know, boring. But really, I’ll go on and on and on and on.
Celebrity you’d want to be friends with.
Stephen Colbert. He seems like he’s legitimately really nice.
Your most unrealistic dream job.
Leonardo DiCaprio in Inception, I guess?
Favorite Halloween costume ever.
Three-part answer:
- Two years ago, I bought a package of twelve vampire fangs and put them all on a shoelace, which I then wore around my neck. I was a Vampire Hunter.
- Last year, I took all but two of them off the shoelace. I was a Junior Vampire Hunter.
- Next year, I’ll just wear the shoelace around my neck—no fangs. I’ll be an Apprentice Vampire Hunter.
A talent you have and a talent you wish you had.
I’m pretty good at cooking without a recipe. I wish I had musical talent.
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Buy a copy of Apoca Lypse Sink Ships by Adam Wing here, and help support local bookstores! This is an affiliate link, and I will earn a commission on any sales.
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I would love to be an author – and love hearing about the lives of authors. There’s a certain romanticism about it! Great interview of this author!