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One thing I know for sure: I will never limit myself to one lane as a writer. Yes, I write emotionally charged stories rooted in identity, healing, and becoming — but that’s not the only world my imagination lives in. Not even close.

I grew up loving the mystical, the magical, the spiritual, the unexplained. I’ve always been drawn to the places where reality bends and something ancient, powerful, or otherworldly slips through the cracks. So it’s only natural that one day, my writing might wander there too.

I may even dabble in sci‑fi, African spirituality, witches and wizards, mermaids and fairies — because those elements live in me as well. They’ve always been part of my creative DNA. I love the idea of blending the real with the surreal, the grounded with the mystical, the emotional with the magical. I love stories where the spiritual world sits just beneath the surface of the everyday, waiting to be touched.

And who knows — some of those elements may weave themselves into my stories sooner than later. My characters already carry emotional depth; adding a touch of magic or ancestral power might simply reveal another layer of who they are.

I also love poetry — deeply, fiercely, forever. I’ve been writing poems since I could form a sentence. Poetry has always been my first language, the place where my emotions found shape before I had the courage to speak them out loud. So don’t be surprised if pieces of poetry slip into my books, my chapters, my characters’ voices. It’s part of how I breathe on the page.

What I’m learning is this:

I don’t have to choose between emotional realism and magical possibility.
I don’t have to choose between grounded storytelling and spiritual imagination.
I don’t have to choose between fiction and poetry.

I can write it all.
I can explore it all.
I can let my creativity expand without apology.

Because my stories — whether heavy, light, magical, or raw — will always center people trying to find their way in a world that tells them they don’t fit. People who are queer, single parents, late‑in‑life mothers, boss women, non‑conformists, dreamers, rebels, and anyone who has ever felt “other.”

Whether they’re walking through heartbreak or walking through portals, they will always be searching for identity, belonging, and truth.

And that, more than anything, is the thread that ties all my writing together.

I’m not just building stories.
I’m building worlds — emotional, spiritual, magical, and real.
And I’m giving myself permission to explore every corner of them.

— Leigh C. Mitchell