Driving on autopilot, somewhere between self-edits and another podcast draft, it hit me—again—how deeply personal my writing is. Not just inspired by my life. Not “based on a true story.” But infused with my lived experiences, every line laced with truth, emotion, and memory.

I take own voices to a whole new level.

I don’t just write Dominican characters because I’m Dominican. I write them because I am them. Because I’ve felt what they’ve felt—shame, pride, grief, anger, resistance, and that ever-complicated desire to belong while also breaking free. So yes, when you read my books, you’re reading fiction—but the feelings are real.

I sprinkle myself into every story I write. Not always by name, but by spirit. And not every moment is one I’m proud of. Some of them? Raw. Complicated. Uncomfortable. But that’s exactly why they work on the page. Because I’ve lived them.

Take The Ordinary Bruja, for instance.

Marisol Espinal, my wonderfully stubborn Dominican protagonist, is made up of so many pieces of me—especially in Act Three. If you get to Chapter 32, you’ll feel it. The identity struggle. The weight of unspoken history. The ache of knowing your power was buried before you even had the words to claim it.

Those chapters are fictional, but the emotions? Pulled from marrow.

I want readers to know that when you hear my podcast episodes—especially the one I dropped on Dominican identity on February 5, 2025—and then go back and read the book? You’ll start to see the threads. How everything aligns. How the edits I made weren’t just structural, they were spiritual. They were realignments.

I often feel a little bad for people who knew me and see themselves in the shadows of my characters. Not because I name names (I don’t), but because the echoes are there. The patterns. The energies. The truths. And truth, when mirrored, can be uncomfortable.

But writing is my reckoning. It’s where I sort through the mess. Where I create clarity out of chaos. Where I give readers not just a story, but a sliver of lived truth wrapped in fictional magic.

So when you read my books, know this:
You’re not just reading a story.
You’re witnessing a survival.

And if you ever feel seen inside one of my characters, it’s because I wrote them with the fullness of what it means to be human, flawed, and still trying. Just like me.