The Encantrix Who Would Become​

Labyrinth Lost came out three years ago on September 6th, 2016. Get ready for some Cancerian nostalgia. I’ve been thinking about the choices that I made, the things I could ave done differently, the things I took for granted. All of this goes through my head knowing that I can’t change anything. Nor would I. The Mortiz sisters are exactly who they need to be. My launch day was one of the best of my career to date. Dhonielle Clayton did my in-conversation. We had 100 empanadas and South American treats that were gone within 15 minutes. I read a short story from when I was a hungry thirteen-year-old who wanted nothing more than to be a published writer. I should think about that girl more often and remember the road so far. But the thing I want to tell you about is the story of the book that almost didn’t happen. 

Lately I’ve been writing with a lot of fear. I’ve been thinking a lot about where it comes from. My mother is fearless. My grandmother, too. But somewhere along the line, I learned to make myself small. To not be too loud, too much, too Latin, too silly, too girly, too nerdy. If you’re my friend for real real, then you know that I am, like the Spice Girls song, TOO MUCH OF EVERYTHING.  

But back to writing with fear. Before Labyrinth Lost, I had a mermaid trilogy. It’s a story I’ve aways had in my heart. However, like professional publishing goes, you can’t control how a book lands. So at the end of book3, when it came time to go on submission with my brujas, I was told that my publisher only wanted one book because they just weren’t sure. I’m not the only person this has happened to, and I won’t be the last. That hesitation sticks to you. It makes you feel like you’re lucky to even be considered for a second chance. I felt like I had to prove so much to have a seat at the table where so many others get second chances without the same hesitation. 

This is where the fear began to seep in. I doubted myself for the first time. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t walk around like Gaston expectorating confidence. Buy I was sure of my writing. Until 2014 when I signed a one book deal for what would become Labyrinth Lost. 

The story of three sisters, this was a book I had always wanted to tell. Only, when I sat down to write, I didn’t feel like I was good enough to tell this story because what if the same thing happened as with my past novels? I don’t know if publishers are aware of this, but writers, many of us at least, internalize the way you talk about us and our books. And so I drank in that hesitation, that uncertainty, and that need to prove myself in a way I hadn’t experienced before.

It came time to retitle the book. The original title was Encantrix, after the power that Alex Mortiz wields. Most publishers don’t like it when a book is titled a made up word. (“All words are made up” – Thor Odinson) I think this is why so many fantasy novels end up repeat king, throne, thorns, queen, shadow, blood, song, etc. I suggested “Bruja” but then came another conundrum. “The readership” might not know what that means. It’s different having the same standard applied to your own language as to made up words, though. And so the fear kept pooling in. I don’t want to call myself the first of anything. Latin American writers have had a long tradition of speculative fiction and magical realism. However, in 2014 when we sold this book, in YA, in the states, there weren’t examples of the kind of book I was writing. The most popular “Spanish fantasy” was The Girl of Fire and Thorns by Rae Carson which I read in one sitting. But what about Latina teens from Brooklyn? Where were the YA magical books written by other Latinxs? And how was I supposed to tell their story if “the readership” wasn’t even going to understand me. Was I just writing myself into a corner with a book that no one was going to read? What if I fail on behalf of all Latinos? 

There was a point where I wanted to quit. To give the money back. I had a full time job at a bar and made 10X my advance a year. I had become too afraid to write the story that I wanted to tell. Labyrinth Lost is a book that was in my bones for years, and for a brief period of time, I wanted to let it go. There comes a time in every writer’s process where you lose your voice. Like you made a fucking bad deal with a sea witch and now you’re drowning in feelings and silence. 

The thing is that I can’t remember how I came out of that funk. It might just be the immigrant mentality that I grew up with, no matter how toxic it is. Get up. Go to work. No one is going to do this for you. It might be that I wrote my way out. That my characters were louder than me. 

So I finished and I came up with a title that I loved and there was enough excitement that my publisher bought two more books before the first one even came out. Yes, some of “the readership” didn’t get it but those who did, who do, drown out the noise of those who do not. The reason this book is so special to me is because it is the most vivid moment in my career where I was so certain of my failure I thought that I should quit.  

It has been a painful five years since I sold this book, and tumultuous three since it came out. There has been hard change and failure and fresh starts and endings and uncertainty. There has been growth. I am still trying to make it in this industry, every day, telling stories as long as they will let me. I know that my words matter and take extra care to make sure that I choose the right ones. The fear is always there. It is this phantom that is conjured when I stare at a blank page. It goes away when I’m with friends who love me, when I take long walks, when I travel, when I read the worlds my colleagues build, when I remind myself of the good instead of focusing on the things I can’t change. 

I’ve stopped caring about being too much, too much, too much. I’m no longer twenty-seven and scared. I’m thirty-two and enough. 

I’m so happy that there are still people discovering this book and will have a chance to see it come to life in the future. Happy anniversary, my brujita.