The Journey of a Storyteller: Embracing the Art of Writing

Thursday, December 18, 2025, Orlando, Florida

“If you want to really hurt your parents, and you don’t have the nerve to be gay, the least you can do is go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.” ― Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country

First and foremost, I spin yarns—sometimes to amuse, sometimes to haunt, but always to connect. I suppose you could call me a storyteller; it’s the only badge I’ve ever worn with pride, even if it’s a little crooked.

Let’s get straight to the punchline: I’m not as famous, revered, or, let’s be honest, as well-paid as Stephen King, William Goldman, Tom Clancy, or David Koepp. If you measured respect and likability in book sales, I’d probably owe the universe change. And no, I’m not filling a swimming pool with gold coins like J.K. Rowling or Mr. King. But when I told my mother back in 1978 that I wanted to write novels and screenplays, she didn’t faint or call me a disappointment; she just quietly wished I’d someday trade my literary dreams for the more “respectable” world of law school. Can you blame her? What mom wouldn’t want a child arguing cases in court instead of arguing with fictional characters?

Truth is, my grandmother gave it her best shot, too. On her last trip from Bogota to Miami, she tried to nudge me toward law, but I had a secret weapon: math phobia. I told her, with a hint of dramatic flair, that I might wrangle my way through college courses, but I’d never slay the dragon known as required mathematics. My struggles with multiplication and division in elementary school were the stuff of legend. I wasn’t exactly dazzling anyone in junior high math, and as for remedial math at Miami-Dade Community College? Let’s just say my grade was less “A for effort” and more “F for farewell.”

I’ve been scribbling stories off and on since third grade at Tropical Elementary—making up tales about soldiers, space heroes, and occasionally, my math teacher vanishing under mysterious circumstances. I wrote for three student newspapers between 1980 and 1989. I started as a guest contributor to Riviera Junior High’s Ram’s Horn, graduated to staff writer and entertainment editor at South Miami Senior High’s The Serpent’s Tale, and finished up at Miami-Dade Community College’s South Campus paper, Catalyst, climbing from staff writer to managing editor. Was I a great student journalist? Probably not. But I held my own and earned a nod or two along the way.

I never did walk the stage at college graduation, nor did I chase a journalism career, thanks to that learning disability that tripped me up and sent me veering from my planned path. Still, I clung to my dream of writing fiction, even when the business side looked like a labyrinth designed by Stephen King’s scarier alter ego. Every new story felt like staring down Pennywise in the sewer, and fear froze my fingers. I did pass Creative Writing at Miami-Dade—where Jim Garraty came to life in a writing exercise—with a solid B, which felt like winning the lottery.

Sure, I wrestle with procrastination and self-doubt. They’re like old, unwelcome friends who never quite leave the party. But I believe, deep down, I’m a decent storyteller—maybe not a King or Hemingway, but I can hold my own at the campfire. I write in public places: blogs, Goodreads, and even self-publish on Kindle Direct Publishing. I’ve studied mass communications, journalism, English composition, and creative writing, earning grades good enough that teachers didn’t weep when they read my papers. And when readers take the time to leave reviews, on Amazon or Goodreads or their own blogs, it gives me a little thrill—a reminder that I’m doing something right. Maybe I’m not “great,” but I am, at least, “good.” And isn’t that a fine thing to be?

Since 1998, I’ve spun three tales that found a modest but warm reception (at least review-wise): Reunion: A Story, a novella; Reunion: Coda, a novel that acts as both prequel and sequel; and Comings and Goings – The Art of Being Seen, a novelette set within the world—the “Garratyverse,” if you’ll indulge me—of the duology. That last story barged into existence, demanding to be written, even though I hadn’t penciled it onto the map.

Let’s be honest: three stories in twenty-seven years isn’t exactly a gold rush, and only one— Reunion: Coda —can claim the title of “novel” without blushing. Still, when you consider that only a handful of folks (three percent, if internet memes are to be trusted) actually finish and publish a book, I’m proud to say I’ve got three respectable—maybe even enjoyable—stories out there, just waiting to be found on Amazon in your format of choice.

What Readers Say

Reunion is a wonderful story that leaves you longing for just a little bit more. It’s a glimpse into the life of an extraordinary yet wholly relatable man; seeing his choices unravel, it leaves you to question everything you’ve done in your own life, and more importantly, what you’ve not done.

Excellent work by Mr. Diaz-Granados! – Becky Castellano Castilla’s review of Reunion: A Story

Firstly, the writing was excellent. I felt drawn in from the moment I began reading, and I think it helped that I was already familiar with the characters. I appreciate that his writing is incredibly intelligent and well done without crossing the line into being pretentious.

I thought the themes that Alex Diaz-Granados chose to explore were very meaningful. Lost love, loss in general, and being stuck in the past/memories of the past are things we can all relate to.

I really enjoy the way Alex creates characters because they very much feel like real people. They have flaws, and they have redeeming qualities, just as most of us do.

I won’t go into the details of the plot because with books like this one, giving away too much can ruin the experience for other readers. But, I will say there are some beautiful moments, some heavy moments, some thoughtful moments, and most importantly, the plot deals with the complex nature of relationships that humans have with one another. We crave love, social interactions, and connections, yet when we achieve them, things are often more complicated than we realise.

Overall, I very much enjoyed Reunion: Coda by Alex Diaz-Granados. I had pretty high hopes for this book, and he delivered. If you enjoy a poignant, thoughtful, and well-written book, this one is for you. I highly recommend it. And if you haven’t read the first book in the series, please do, as it will help you understand the plot of this one much better. – Pooja Gudka’s review of Reunion: Coda

At a party where Jim is more observer than participant, a young woman approaches him and asks him, “You’re not having a good time, are you?” Feeling dejected, disliking his beer, which by now has grown warm, Jim is struck by the confidence of the woman who introduces herself as Kelly. Kelly listens and does not push, mock, or judge (other than to call Budweiser “horse piss.”) She sees, something Jim, invisible up to that point, is grateful for.

The story is not a romance, but rather an enjoyable, insightful journey into empathy and the importance of human connection. It portrays the gift of intimacy set against a backdrop of alienation—college, often one’s first time away from home. The author adds music to the narrative, not only to evoke the 1980s (UGH), but also to enhance the conversation between Jim and Kelly.

I enjoyed reading this brief, lyrical tale. – Denise Longrie’s review of Comings and Goings

A Final Grace Note

Before I sign off, I want to offer a heartfelt thank-you to the readers who’ve traveled this road with me—especially Thomas Wikman, Denise Longrie, Pooja Gudka, and Paul Schingle, who’ve picked up all three books so far. Your support means more than you know. I’m also deeply grateful to everyone who’s taken the time to write a review—whether on Amazon, Goodreads, or their own blog. Your words give me hope, a dash of courage, and a nudge to keep going when the stories don’t flow easily. And if you’re a prospective reader, I’d be honored if you’d consider buying one (or all) of my books. Not only does each sale help me earn a little extra to keep the lights on, but every new reader brings my stories into the wider world and inspires me to write more. So thank you, truly, for helping a storyteller’s crooked badge shine just a bit brighter.