In my last post, I shared three shows and books that have been feeding the atmosphere of my current novel — stories that echo the emotional terrain, the tension, the quiet unraveling, and the rebuilding my main character is walking through. But the truth is, what I watch and read doesn’t just inspire my writing. It shapes the way I imagine, the way I build worlds, and the way I listen to my characters.

I’ve always believed that the stories we consume become part of our creative DNA. They open doors in our minds we didn’t know were there. They remind us of what’s possible. They give us permission to stretch, to experiment, to wander into new territory.

And lately, I’ve been thinking about how wide my creative territory really is.

Because while I’m writing a deeply emotional, grounded novel right now, my imagination doesn’t live only in realism. It also lives in the mystical, the spiritual, the cosmic, the magical. I love stories that bend reality, stories where the supernatural sits just beneath the surface, stories where the ancestors whisper, where the veil thins, where the impossible feels familiar.

So don’t be surprised if one day you see my name on a book that blends African spirituality with modern life, or a story where witches and wizards walk alongside everyday people, or a world where mermaids carry generational memory in their songs. I may even wander into sci‑fi — the kind that centers Black and brown futures, queer futures, non‑conforming futures.

Because all of that lives in me too.

And then there’s poetry — my first love, my first language. Poetry taught me how to feel on the page before I knew how to write a story. It taught me rhythm, breath, imagery, honesty. It taught me how to say the most with the least. So yes, poetry will find its way into my books. Maybe in the voice of a character. Maybe in the structure of a chapter. Maybe in the way a moment lands.

What I’m learning is this:

My writing doesn’t have to stay in one lane.
My imagination doesn’t have to choose a genre.
My creativity doesn’t have to shrink to fit a box.

I can write the heavy and the light.
The real and the magical.
The grounded and the otherworldly.
The fiction and the poetry.

Because at the heart of everything I create is the same truth:
I write about people trying to find their way in a world that tells them they don’t fit.

Whether they’re walking through heartbreak or walking through portals, that journey remains the same.

And that’s the thread that ties all my work together — no matter what form it takes.

What I watch, what I read, what I love — it all becomes part of the worlds I build. And I’m excited to see where those worlds take me next.