When spooky shit happens to a horror writer

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#horrorWriterLife #magicalRealism #marisolEspinal #midnightStories #spookyEncounters #TheOrdinaryBruja #writingProcess

The Hill That Changes Everything: Symbolism in The Ordinary Bruja

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#characterSymbolism #comingOfAge #magicalRealism #marisolEspinal #PersonalGrowth #sacredTransformation #TheOrdinaryBruja

Marisol vs. Las Tres Mojonas: Why Comparison is the Real Villain in The Ordinary Bruja

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#comingOfAge #ComparisonTrap #diasporaStories #LasTresMojonas #LatinaIdentity #magicalRealism #marisolEspinal #SelfAcceptance #TheOrdinaryBruja #TuesdayBlog

Self-Doubt and Generational Silence Explored in The Ordinary Bruja

Marisol Espinal doesn’t think she’s magical.
She doesn’t think she’s brave.
She doesn’t think she’s worthy of being the hero in anyone’s story—not even her own.

And that’s exactly why I wanted to write her.

Because self-doubt doesn’t usually make the headlines. It doesn’t get the center stage in stories about witches and chosen ones. But it lives in so many of us. Quietly. Persistently. Whispering things we eventually start to believe.

I wanted a bruja who starts there.

Self-Doubt Comes from What’s Taught in Silence

I’ve said this before: some of the most damaging lessons aren’t taught through words. They’re taught through what’s unsaid. What’s modeled. What’s absorbed through observation.

For example, my mother never looked me in the eye and said, “Hate how you look.” But she used to stand in front of a mirror and criticize her skinny legs, calling them “chicken legs.” That same name—chicken legs—was later used for mine and my sister’s.

And just like that, a cycle begins. We inherit shame before we even know it has a name.

That’s the root of Marisol’s doubt, too. Not just what she’s told, but what she sees and feels. Josefina—her mother—never outright says, “You’re not enough.” But she keeps secrets. She avoids hard conversations. She tries to protect Marisol through stories and songs instead of telling her the truth about their ancestral magic. And for a girl like Marisol, who doesn’t know how to read between the lines? That felt like absence.

Preorder The Ordinary Bruja

The Ordinary Bruja: Book One of Las Cerradoras Series – Johanny Ortega

When grief pulls Marisol Espinal back to Willowshade, she uncovers a legacy buried in shadows, silence, and ancestral magic. The Ordinary Bruja is a haunting coming-of-age story that blends psychological horror with Dominican folklore and magical realism. For fans of Silvia Moreno-Garcia and Isabel Cañas.

If you love what you read, I’d be honored to hear your thoughts. Please leave a review on your preferred platform and let other readers find the magic in The Ordinary Bruja.

When You’re Not Told the Story, You Make One Up

Marisol learns to make sense of her world by piecing together fragments: a memory here, a tone of voice there, a story half-told. And the stories we’re not told? We fill those gaps with doubt.

That’s why, throughout The Ordinary Bruja, Marisol revisits memories—not to wallow, but to investigate. To understand what was missed. What was buried. What was meant with love but came out twisted by fear or silence.

She realizes Josefina was trying to teach her. Just not in the way she needed. And by the time she’s ready to hear it, the opportunity is gone.

The Shift from Parents to Peers

There’s a moment in childhood—usually subtle, almost invisible—when you stop modeling your parents and start modeling your peers.

For Marisol, that shift is marked by Las Tres Mojonas.

She goes from sitting in rapt attention as her mother sings about ancestral paths and mysterious hills… to tuning out, rolling her eyes, and trying to mimic the confidence and sleekness of the girls at school who seem to have it all figured out.

And Josefina, sensing she’s lost her daughter’s attention, stops pushing. She thinks, I’ll just fix it myself. I’ll do the hard part so she never has to know the danger.

But Josefina underestimated Salvador.

That choice—to protect Marisol by hiding the truth—becomes one of the deepest fractures in their family’s history. And we’ll explore that fully in La Segunda Cerradora, Josefina’s book. (Spoiler alert: yes, I’m publishing these out of order. The last Cerradora goes first, the first second, and the second last. Because chaos. And because that’s how legacy works—it loops before it lands.)

What Happens When You Stop Arguing With Doubt

What I love most about writing Marisol is that her journey isn’t neat. She doesn’t snap out of self-doubt with one magical moment. Her growth is clumsy and emotional. She falls back into old habits. She wants to believe—but doesn’t always succeed.

But slowly—so slowly—she stops trying to out-argue her doubt and starts listening beneath it.

Call it intuition.
Call it memory.
Call it ancestral magic.

Whatever name you give it, that voice was always there. She just couldn’t hear it under the noise.

You Can Doubt and Still Be Powerful

Marisol doesn’t become powerful because she becomes flawless.
She becomes powerful because she moves anyway.

She chooses to investigate, to feel, to ask questions. And even when she doesn’t fully believe in herself, she keeps showing up.

And that? That’s the heart of the story.

A Word for the Readers Who Feel Like Marisol

If you’ve ever heard your own mother talk down to herself—and absorbed that as gospel…
If you’ve ever drifted from the truth in favor of fitting in…
If you’ve ever doubted your value, even when others told you to shine…

This is your reminder: doubt is not disobedience.
And silence doesn’t mean the story isn’t there.

Marisol’s journey is about listening deeply—not just to her past, but to herself.
And yours can be too.

#ancestralSilence #characterSpotlight #LatinaProtagonists #marisolEspinal #selfDoubtAndHealing #TheOrdinaryBruja

When Fiction Isn’t Fake: Why My Books Carry My Truth

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.

#authorLife #DominicanIdentityInFiction #DominicanWriters #fictionThatFeelsReal #marisolEspinal #OWNVoicesStorytelling #TheOrdinaryBruja #writingRealEmotionsInFiction #writingWithHonesty

Welcome to Café Enchantment—Where the Coffee’s Hot and the Spirits Are Watching

It’s funny how the universe works. I’ve been unwinding at night with The Full Moon Coffee Shop, a story steeped in quiet wisdom, tender reflection, and celestial cats. But by day? I’m neck-deep in the eerie reality of Café Enchantment—the haunting heart of my own book, The Ordinary Bruja.

Let me be clear: Café Enchantment is not your cozy moonlit coffee shop.

It’s where Marisol Espinal begins her story—a place that should feel safe, familiar, grounding. It’s where she sees Kia, the only person who feels like home now that she’s not staying over anymore. The café is Marisol’s normal.

But almost immediately, that normal is corrupted.

Something feels off. The energy shifts. The café that once smelled of cinnamon and old books now feels watched. The creak of a chair. The flicker of a shadow. A sip of coffee that doesn’t quite go down right.

And before you even realize it…
Marisol is no longer safe.
And neither are you, dear reader.

This is the thing about The Ordinary Bruja: the horror doesn’t announce itself with a scream. It creeps. It chills. It whispers. The supernatural forces don’t just haunt Hallowthorn Hill—they seep into Marisol’s everyday. Into her job. Her routines. Her comfort zones. Especially Café Enchantment.

And yet…she keeps going back.

Why? Because Kia’s there. Because sometimes, when the world feels like it’s unraveling, you hold onto what’s familiar even as it slips through your fingers. That’s what Café Enchantment becomes—a reflection of Marisol’s internal chaos. A battleground disguised as a barista bar.

And here’s a little spoiler (shh):
Café Enchantment returns in Book Two.
But trust me—by then, it’ll be even weirder. Even darker. Even more alive.

So if you dare to crack open The Ordinary Bruja, don’t just skim the first chapter. Pay attention.
To the sounds.
To the vibes.
To the feeling that someone is watching—because they are.

Go ahead.
Grab a table.
Order your cafecito.
And see if you make it out.

Preorder it now

The Ordinary Bruja: Book One of Las Cerradoras Series – J.E. Ortega

When grief pulls Marisol Espinal back to Willowshade, she uncovers a legacy buried in shadows, silence, and ancestral magic. The Ordinary Bruja is a haunting coming-of-age story that blends psychological horror with Dominican folklore and magical realism. For fans of Silvia Moreno-Garcia and Isabel Cañas.

If you love what you read, I’d be honored to hear your thoughts. Please leave a review on your preferred platform and let other readers find the magic in The Ordinary Bruja.

The Three Girlies: Marisol’s Bullies or Her Broken Mirrors?

In The Ordinary Bruja, there are monsters on the hill—but there are also monsters in the mirror. That’s where the Three Girlies come in.

At first glance, Delgada, Sabia, and Blanca might read as your standard mean girls, but dig deeper and you’ll realize they’re not just tormentors—they’re reflections of Marisol’s deepest wounds. Each one embodies a piece of her fractured self-image, making their presence not just painful, but profoundly personal.

✖ Delgada: The Body Mirror

Delgada’s very name is a weapon—Spanish for slim. She’s all the things society praises in a Latine girl: sleek, curated, “put together.” Marisol, by contrast, carries the weight—literally and emotionally—of growing up in a body that didn’t feel worthy. Delgada doesn’t have to say anything cruel; her existence is the standard Marisol was taught to fail. The shame Marisol feels in her body isn’t just about looks. It’s about worth. And Delgada makes that shame visible.

✖ Sabia: The Accomplishment Mirror

Sabia, the overachiever, is the girl with the college degree, the plan, the ambition—and she never lets anyone forget it. Marisol dropped out. And even if she tells herself that school wasn’t for her, there’s a voice—Sabia’s voice—that whispers you couldn’t finish. It’s not about the diploma. It’s about the perceived failure. Sabia weaponizes success the way society does: by using it to invalidate those still figuring things out.

✖ Blanca: The Identity Mirror

Blanca cuts the deepest. She’s fluent, Catholic, and “traditionally Latina.” She posts in Spanish, quotes her abuela, and side-eyes anything that doesn’t fit into her narrow cultural checklist. Marisol? She stumbles over Spanish. She’s spiritual, not religious. And she’s still reclaiming the heritage she was disconnected from. Blanca is the voice that says, you’re not really one of us. That wound—of feeling “not enough” as a Dominican or a Latina—is Marisol’s most tender one.

What makes the Three Girlies dangerous isn’t just what they say or do—it’s that they echo the lies Marisol tells herself.

That’s the real horror.
That’s the real haunting.
Not the whispers from the hill, but the whispers within.

Their cruelty is a reflection of how girlhood so often becomes a performance—of beauty, achievement, identity. Of what’s acceptable. And for those of us who don’t fit the mold, that performance becomes a punishment.

But The Ordinary Bruja isn’t just about pain. It’s about reclaiming power. Marisol’s journey is one of looking those mirrors in the face and saying, No más.

She doesn’t need to become Delgada, Sabia, or Blanca.

She just needs to become Marisol—fully, fiercely, and finally.

#bodyImageInBooks #collegeDropoutStigma #DominicanAmericanStories #girlhoodTraumaInFiction #LatinaIdentityAndSelfWorth #marisolEspinal #ownVoicesFiction #psychologicalHorrorAndSelfImage #SpanglishShame #TheOrdinaryBruja #writingFemaleAntagonists

Why We Don’t Have to Do It All — Not in Life, Not in Fiction

Being a Latina woman often feels like carrying the world’s weight on your shoulders.

From a young age, many of us are taught to juggle everything: be the caretaker, excel at work, preserve traditions, and maintain a spotless home. I’m literally writing this while taking a break from mopping the floor. That’s the rhythm we’re taught—clean, cook, work, smile. Repeat.

We are expected to be everything to everyone—the selfless mother, the devoted daughter, the hardworking professional, and the keeper of cultural values. But at what cost?

The Roots of the Expectation

The pressure to “do it all” isn’t just modern hustle culture—it’s deeply rooted in our cultural upbringing and generational patterns. In many Latine households, the idea of marianismo—the counterpart to machismo—reinforces that we should be self-sacrificing, nurturing, and morally unshakeable. And while these traits are often praised, they can quietly become cages.

Cultural sayings like “La mujer es el corazón del hogar” (The woman is the heart of the home) sound beautiful… until you realize how heavy it is to be the heart of something every single day. To never skip a beat. To feel like if you fall apart, so does everything else.

The Modern-Day Pressure Cooker

Today, we’re straddling two worlds. We chase careers, passions, education—and still feel expected to carry on all the domestic traditions without missing a step. That duality? It often leads to burnout, guilt, and an invisible scale we can never balance.

Social media intensifies it. One scroll and you see other women baking from scratch, launching businesses, looking flawless, raising kids, honoring culture—and doing it all in perfect lighting. The unspoken rule becomes: if you’re not doing it all—and perfectly—you’re not enough.

But here’s the thing: that’s a lie.

And it’s one I’ve not only had to unlearn for myself, but it’s also one I’ve written into my characters—because these expectations don’t just weigh on real people. They bleed into our inner lives, our self-worth, our sense of possibility. That’s why I gave this burden to Marisol Espinal in The Ordinary Bruja.

Marisol Espinal: A Reflection of Us

Marisol may live in a world touched by ancestral magic, but the pressure she carries is all too real. She’s the product of generations of silence, of cultural rules passed down without explanation. She’s expected to behave, to stay grounded, to not “make things up,” to hold the family’s reputation while trying to uncover its truth. She’s expected to be reliable and ordinary, even as the unexplainable calls to her.

And that’s the story for so many of us, right? Be dependable. Be useful. Be strong. But never too much. Never too loud, too angry, too curious, too bold. Never too yourself.

Marisol’s story reflects what happens when those expectations become internalized—when someone begins to wonder if the life they actually want is too far from the one they’re expected to live. She doesn’t rebel outwardly at first. She folds in on herself, quietly suffocated. And that, to me, is far more common and far more devastating than we like to admit.

Breaking the Pattern—In Fiction and in Life

So how do we break free?

Here’s what I’ve learned—and what I’ve written into both my life and my work:

Set Boundaries: Saying “no” is a powerful act of self-preservation. Not everything deserves your yes.

Redefine Success: Maybe success isn’t doing everything. Maybe it’s choosing what matters and doing that with your whole heart.

Ask for Help: You don’t need to be the only one scrubbing floors. You know who helped me clean my house today? My husband and our kids—because it’s our house. Shared space means shared responsibility.

Embrace Imperfection: The dishes can wait. You can’t. Your peace is more important than your productivity.

Celebrate Yourself: You’re here. You’re doing the work. That deserves to be seen and celebrated.

Moving Forward

The cultural expectations placed on Latine women are real—and they are heavy. But they don’t have to define us.

We’re allowed to change the narrative.
We’re allowed to drop what doesn’t serve us.
And we’re allowed to write ourselves into stories where the main character—like Marisol—gets to choose herself.

So whether you’re a real-life mujer balancing everything or a reader watching Marisol learn to stop holding it all in… I hope you find relief in the knowing:

You don’t have to do it all to be worthy.
You are enough—just as you are.

#breakingCycles #culturalExpectations #generationalPressure #identityInFiction #latineStorytelling #latineWomanhood #marisolEspinal #ownvoicesAuthor #TheOrdinaryBruja #writingComplexCharacters

Who Is Marisol Espinal? A Character Study in Not-Belonging

You won’t notice her at first. She blends in—on purpose. She’s the quiet one in the corner, hoodie up, shoulders tense, eyes always scanning. Not because she’s timid, but because she’s learned that watching is safer than being seen.

Marisol Espinal is not your typical heroine. She’s not trying to save the world. She’s just trying to survive herself.

There’s a kind of restlessness that simmers in her. The kind you get when the world keeps telling you who you’re not. Not Dominican enough. Not American enough. Not spiritual enough. Not normal enough. So she stays in the margins, trying not to be a problem, trying not to be noticed—until not being noticed starts to feel like disappearing.

But Marisol isn’t disappearing. She’s gathering. Gathering pieces of herself she was taught to be ashamed of. Gathering the questions that never had safe places to land. Gathering memories she thought were too painful or too strange to matter.

She doesn’t want to believe in magic. But it believes in her.

She doesn’t want to revisit the past. But it keeps calling her name.

What drives her isn’t courage in the traditional sense. It’s a quiet desperation. A longing to understand what made her—and what might unmake her if she doesn’t face it.

There’s a weight she carries that most won’t see. Grief she’s wrapped in sarcasm. Guilt she tucks under sharp comebacks. A hunger for belonging that she hides in rolled eyes and cold silences. But beneath all that? She wants to be whole.

She wants to feel like her skin fits. Like her mind isn’t a battleground. Like her ancestors are more than whispers in the walls.

And in so many ways, she’s a reflection of my own journey.

I’ve always felt fundamentally different—like I was never going to fit in no matter how hard I tried. I have a lazy eye, and from a young age that made me feel marked, like I stood apart from everyone else. Add to that a phenotype that refuses to conform—I’ve been told I look Italian, Persian, Portuguese… everything but Dominican. And when I say I’m Dominican, I get that look. The one that asks me to prove it. To explain myself. To perform my identity.

At first, I tried. I wanted so badly to fit the mold, to belong somewhere without being questioned. But as I grew and started embracing all the fragments of myself, I realized that I don’t owe anyone a performance. The only person I have to prove anything to is me.

That’s the journey I gave Marisol. It’s not loud. It doesn’t end in a clean resolution. But it’s real. It’s raw. It’s honest.

Marisol Espinal is the kind of character who doesn’t shout her arrival. She creeps in quietly, under your skin, until you’re thinking about her long after you’ve closed the book.

You won’t always agree with her. You might not always like her. But you’ll understand her.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll see pieces of yourself reflected back.

#characterProfile #comingOfAge #DominicanIdentity #latineStories #magicalRealism #marisolEspinal #ownvoicesAuthor #psychologicalFiction #spiritualJourney #TheOrdinaryBruja

Christianity and Brujería Coexistence Through Storytelling: The Ordinary Bruja

Welcome to My 5:30 AM Super Secret Writing Sessions…

It’s quiet. The kind of quiet where thoughts rise to the surface unbothered, where truth bubbles up with the steam of morning cafecito. It’s in these sacred hours before the world wakes up that I find myself face to face with the deepest parts of me—and the stories that demand to be told.

One of those stories is The Ordinary Bruja.

This novel has been a long time coming. Not just because it blends magical realism, psychological horror, and Dominican ancestral memory, but because it finally gave me the space to write about something I’ve carried quietly for so long: the complicated relationship between Christianity and Brujería. And how, despite what many have been told, they can coexist.

Kia, Marisol, and the Argument I’ve Always Wanted to Have

For years, I’ve felt this inner tug-of-war. I was raised with Christian values, but my soul has always whispered to the spirits of my ancestors. I’ve pulled cards for clarity. I’ve lit candles for strength. I’ve spoken to energies older than scripture. And still, I find myself saying amen. Still, I find peace in both paths.

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But I never had the words, the room, or the character to show that contradiction—until Kia.

Kia is Marisol’s best friend in The Ordinary Bruja, and she represents what I’ve always hoped to portray: a belief system grounded in Christianity, yet open enough to sit at the same table with Brujería. Through Kia, I was finally able to hold a conversation between two worlds that people often treat like they have to be at war.

She doesn’t practice brujería, but she respects that Marisol does. That’s the coexistence. That’s the magic. Not in forced agreeance or conversion, but in the sacred art of acknowledgement. Of recognizing someone else’s truth without diminishing your own.

Faith Doesn’t Have to Be a Battlefield

So many spiritual practices rooted in Indigenous, African, and diasporic cultures have been demonized by organized religion. We see it all the time—the way Christian spaces turn their back on brujas, curanderas, espiritistas. But what if we shifted the conversation?

What if spirituality, like identity, isn’t a binary?

The Ordinary Bruja is my love letter to that idea. It’s a novel about reclaiming what’s been lost or shamed. About realizing that magic—whether it comes from prayer or spellwork—has always been within you. Marisol doesn’t just wake up to her ancestral power. She wakes up to herself.

And I want you to witness that journey.

Request an ARC. Read it. Share it. Let’s Start the Conversation.

If you’re drawn to stories that:

• Blend #LatineFiction with ancestral memory and magical realism
• Tackle identity, belonging, and intergenerational trauma
• Explore the sacred tension between Christianity and Brujería
• Center strong female friendship and cultural reclamation
• Ask what it really means to come home to yourself

Then The Ordinary Bruja was written with you in mind.

ARC requests are open. Early readers are already calling it one of the Must-Read Books of 2025. And I believe that, with your help, we can create the kind of word-of-mouth momentum that helps stories like this reach the people who need them most.

This is more than a novel. It’s a return to self.

Don’t forget to ask for it. Don’t forget to read it. And please, help me spread the word.

#ARCRequestsOpen #brujeriaAndChristianity #latineFiction #magicalRealism #marisolEspinal #mustReadBooksOf2025 #ownvoicesFiction #reclaimingAncestry #spiritualIdentity #TheOrdinaryBruja