Supernatural Central Short and Quick Interview
Tell me a little bit about the main character of this book.
Griselda, AKA Grizzy, is a mad scientist in a family of monsters. She’s the one everyone goes to when things get crazy, and MalaBrava is a trillion percent crazy, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
Do you believe in the paranormal, and if so, do you have an experience you can share?
I’m agnostic when it comes to the paranormal. I am Mexican, and culturally, we are big believers in the paranormal, but I’ve always questioned everything I’ve been told about it. That doesn’t mean the possibility isn’t out there; it just means it may or may not be tangible. That’s how I see it, anyway.
What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about?
I’m currently writing a very dark gothic horror novel called The Order of the Wicked. Just think “evil nuns.” After that, I will be writing book two of my MalaBrava series.
Excerpt:
Griselda grew up in Malabrava. Her family founded the town. The streets, the smells, the houses, the people, and even the squirrels with knives run through her veins. She loves Malabrava and all its quirks.
Grizzy is a Del Monstruo. Not the youngest, not the oldest. She’s the middle-aged one. The Auntie. The one who never married, never wanted to. Grizzy’s the one people call when something needs to be handled. Because that’s what Grizzy does. Grizzy handles things.
Nobody asks how. It’s understood. Grizzy is what some might call sketchy with a heart of gold. She’ll go to war for the people she loves, and she has a clean, no-fuss method of decapitation for the ones she doesn’t.
She lives in the family home, dead center in the town of Malabrava. Her parents retired to a smaller place on the outskirts, saying they needed more land for at-home burials. Her sister Gracie prefers her condo near their parents. Gracie said that the convenient burial space is a plus. Makes cleanup easier.
They left Grizzy the house. You’d expect a gothic mansion, right? This is Malabrava, where things creep in broad daylight. A home for someone called Del Monstruo should come with bats, cobwebs, a gong, a butler who only groans, and a maid with wild frizzy red hair and access to the gong.
But no.
Grizzy’s grandfather was a modernist. Way ahead of his time. He wanted to be a supervillain, and in his mind, supervillains needed sleek, sprawling homes with underground bunkers, hidden rooms, and plans for a moat.
He never made it to “super.” He was a decent villain. He refused to recycle and regularly flipped off children, but he lacked the follow-through. He couldn’t commit to one evil scheme long enough to earn the title.
Grizzy’s grandmother was the true force. A science-minded woman with dangerous ideas. She adored the modern mansion. It gave her room for her lab.
That lab became Grizzy’s favorite place in the world.
Grizzy the fixer, the inventor, the one always tinkering away in her lab is deeply loved by her family. But her mother, a devout occultist with a dramatic streak, had other hopes. She wanted Griselda to be witchy. Ideally, a Voodoo Priestess. She always said Griselda looked striking in white. Though, in the end, she would’ve settled for a kitchen witch with a solid essential oil game.
Her father, a known vampire, had his hopes too. Gracie inherited the thirst. Gracie was the one born with a taste for blood.
But not Grizzy.
Instead, she snuck into her grandmother’s lab as a child. Touched everything labeled “Do Not Touch.” Sniffed everything marked “Hazard.” Dreamed of beakers and blueprints. She ignored every warning.
At twelve, she came out to the family as a Mad Scientist.
Her parents told her they loved her. Accepted her, a little reluctantly. Gracie grinned. She had another reason to be the favorite now.
They threw a family barbecue for her official announcement. The cousins came. The uncles, the aunts, the vaguely-related lurkers. Grizzy cut a cake shaped like a beaker and declared, “I’m a Mad Scientist, like Granny.”
There was a pause.
Some awkward glances.
Then applause.
The Del Monstruos were known for monsters...being them, birthing them, bargaining with them. But Grizzy wasn’t rattled by the hesitation. She knew the truth.
What was better than being a monster?
Inventing them.
