Mortal Vengeance follows a group of wayward teens who come face-to-face with a horrifying reaper-like being while seeking revenge on a cruel teacher. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?

It actually started in a very petty way. During my first month of ninth grade, I came home with a D+ in Spanish on my first report card. It was the first time I had ever received a grade like that, and my parents decided I was too distracted. Their solution was simple and brutal: they removed everything from my bedroom except the lightbulbs.

No TV. No Nintendo 64. No dial-up internet.

I had time. I had anger. And I was bored.

That frustration bled directly into the story. Mortal Vengeance opens with Marcos saying, “That old hag is going to pay,” which perfectly captured my headspace at the time. I was steeped in teenage resentment and heavily influenced by the slasher films of the late ’90s—Scream, I Know What You Did Last Summer. With nothing else to do at night, writing became the only way to channel that anger somewhere safe.

What began as a rough slasher script was chaotic, but something interesting happened: people wanted more. I showed a few pages to a friend, and suddenly, classmates were demanding new chapters, threatening me if I showed up empty-handed. I didn’t know it then, but writing helped me process emotions I didn’t yet have the tools to understand. Over time, that raw revenge fantasy evolved into something intentional—a story about how small injustices spiral into something monstrous. What started as anger became craft.

Do you find yourself relating to your characters as you write? 

Absolutely—but not in a one-to-one way.

In Mortal Vengeance, the boys were modeled after my friends, with some liberties taken. Alex, in particular, began as a partial self-portrait. His emotional intensity, his insecurity, and the way he uses humor or singing as a coping mechanism—that’s very much me.

Beyond that, I relate to my characters the way a parent relates to their children. You create them, but they are not you. They have their own histories and blind spots. My priority is to give them a reason to be flawed and human. Sometimes I’ll lend them one of my own experiences to ground them emotionally, but ultimately, they have to stand on their own.

What is the challenging aspect of writing a thriller? The most rewarding? 

The biggest challenge is pacing—especially in a genre where suspension of disbelief is fragile. I love films like Scream, but I’ve always struggled with how quickly logic collapses once a killer is established. Why aren’t they hiding? Why are they splitting up? In Mortal Vengeance, once the Grim Cojuelo appears, the escalation is relentless by design so the characters don’t have time to question the logic.

The most rewarding part is earning the reader’s trust. When readers are willing to come along for the ride—through fear, grief, and chaos—you know the emotional connection is working. I find the “B-Roll” sections of my book especially meaningful because they offer a quiet intimacy. They give readers space to bond with the characters, so when the danger finally comes, it hits much harder.

Can we look forward to more work from you soon? What are you currently working on? 

Yes—very much so. And sooner than you think. 

Mortal Vengeance throws readers straight into action, but it only hints at how things reached that breaking point. Mortal Vengeance: A Grim Tale explores what came before: the systems, institutions, and personal failures that normalized cruelty long before the first act of revenge. It’s a different kind of horror—less spectacle, more psychological reckoning.

At the center of the prequel is Julián, a character briefly referenced in the main novel, here brought fully into focus. Through his perspective, the story examines how institutional pressure, moral compromise, and silence converge around a single student. Alongside him is Lucía, his closest friend and emotional anchor, whose loyalty is tested as the darkness deepens. Readers also meet younger versions of Marcos, Fernando, Alex, Enrique, Melissa, and Mónika—before identities harden and choices become irreversible.

The two books can be read in either order. Starting with Mortal Vengeance emphasizes mystery and shock; the prequel becomes an excavation. Starting with A Grim Tale emphasizes dread and inevitability; the main novel then lands as a consequence rather than a surprise.

I’m also finishing the first draft of the sequel, Mortal Vengeance II: To Reel or Not Too Real? It’s a major narrative risk and a necessary evolution for the series. If all goes well, readers can expect it toward the end of the year or early next. I’m excited—and a little terrified—which usually means I’m doing something right.

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