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Like the burden of guilt that its protagonists carry. It is a psychological drama in which violence and isolation threaten to destroy everything. But it is, above all, a story of redemption and hope.

But maybe I should start at the beginning and return to an old house, in the heart of Pamplona, ​​where I learned to read. While my mother and grandmother were busy with the needle composing laborious honeycombs, I read. I read until my elbows were ruined, until the tingling in my legs was unbearable. My father, attentive to that precocious interest that I always showed in good stories, gave me book after book, until configuring a literary world full of classics, impossible adventures, distant worlds and some forgotten, fascinating universes. I advanced through that captivating universe of the novel until I was convinced that It is there, in the pages of those books, where the true magic is hidden.

From then on my life was a succession of readings shared with my father. It is of no use to cite the authors. There are so many… We have exchanged so many books… But there was something that was invariably repeated, and that is that when I asked him “Dad: What are you reading now?”, he responded without hesitation: “While I wait for you to publish your novel, I’m reading…” It didn’t matter what name followed next. I smiled, without paying attention to him, without being aware that He was busy watering a seed that, unbeknownst to my consciousness, was struggling to germinate..

And one day it happened. It was November 1, 2016. An idea had been in my head for some time. I thought a lot about it until I decided to make it the ending of my first novel. I also thought of a title, It is not your faultand from there I started thinking back, I started to build a story until you reach a starting point. And I sat down to write.

I had been immersed in the heat of literary construction for a few months when my father became seriously ill. And he began then my fight against the clock, my anguished and feverish writing to buy some time. To finish the story and tell my father that I had finally decided. But I realized with dismay that I would never arrive in time. The disease was faster and relentless than me. So, one summer afternoon I kissed him goodbye and told him: “I’ll come early tomorrow. I have to tell you something that you are going to like a lot.” “What is it?” He told me. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Once at home I printed the manuscript and left it ready to take to the hospital. That night, at five in the morning the phone rang like a bad omen. My father had just passed away. The first tears I shed fell about my manuscript on the first page they only appeared three words: “For my dad”.

I finished that story, It is not your faultwhich marked my debut in the novel but also, the farewell to my father and the beginning of a life in which he would no longer be. She left without knowing that the seed had grown into a small flower. The style of heathers, which are not exotic or stunning, but are brave and stubborn.

It is not your fault is a novel of family secrets, of personal searches, of acceptance, of forgiveness, and of how many times in life it is necessary to go back to live forward.

After her came Stop the press!a sincere tribute to my profession: the journalism. In it I wanted two ways of understanding journalism, two ways of facing the profession, both very present in me, to work together. Time is showing that narrative solidity, polished writing, respect for sources, patience and, above all, solidity and rigor of information are not incompatible, nor should they be, with instantaneity and viralitytoday so valued.

That is what underlies the preparations for an international merger that in turn hides fierce internal resistance and threats to its general director. That is the context in which these two journalists of different generations and ways of understanding the profession will be forced to work together in research.

With Black Aura I return again to the origin. Return to real, deep stories, through which, little by little, the light makes its way. The town in which the action takes place remains hidden under the waters. At certain times of the year, you can glimpse the proud tower of the church whose bells still resonate in the most remote places of the valley. A young woman arrives there in search of her grandmother, a somewhat elusive old woman who barely has a relationship with her neighbors and who, furthermore, refuses to receive her. She will soon become the focus of hatred and gossip among a people who, like her, have a buried past that threatens to come to the surface.

The three books, Black Aura, It is not your fault and Stop the press! They are published by the Eunate publishing house.

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