Interview con Agostina Ferroni
Agostina Ferroni has developed a distinctive poetic voice within contemporary Spanish-language poetry. Following the acclaim of Lugares a donde no puedo volver (Valparaíso Ediciones, 2025), she returns with Todas las personas que fui, a poetry collection that delves into memory, displacement, personal transformation, and the many versions of ourselves that inhabit us throughout life.
GERALD PADILLA: Agostina, thank you very much for speaking with us. To begin, how are you feeling at this point in your journey as a poet? What projects are you most excited about?
AGOSTINA FERRONI: Thank you so much for having me. From a literary standpoint, I'm in a very creative period: I'm writing a new book and polishing a poetry collection that is in its final stages. Fortunately, I'm always writing something new. As for life, I'm thrilled that I'll soon be traveling to the U.S. to give literary and cultural presentations in several states. I find it fascinating because, years ago, it seemed impossible to imagine that my art could take me to such incredible places.
PADILLA: I'd like to go back to the beginning. Do you remember when you realized that writing poetry was more than just a hobby? Was there a defining moment?
FERRONI: Yes. It's a moment in my life I couldn't forget even if I wanted to. I was twenty-five years old and living in Australia. Everything was both wonderful and terrible at the same time because I had a very good, comfortable life: I lived with my boyfriend in a beach town just a few blocks from the ocean, and I had a job I didn't enjoy, but that paid well enough for me to live comfortably and save money. Anyone who has lived and worked abroad knows that reaching the point where you're no longer sharing a house with strangers and your bank account is finally growing is difficult and takes a long time.
But there I was. Despite having that life, I felt an enormous emptiness. There was nothing that made me wake up motivated each morning. I also began thinking about the near future: Where would I be? What would I be doing for work? Would I return to my country? Would I go even farther away? Would I apply for permanent residency in Australia?
As I asked myself all of these questions, I came to the realization that I didn't even know who I truly was. That was my turning point. Before anything else, I had to figure out my identity. As I sifted through my memories, my experiences, and everything I had lived up to that moment, I realized there was only one thing that had always remained constant in my life: writing. Yet I had always treated it as a hobby, simply a way of expressing myself. While I was asking myself all of those questions, the only answers that made sense had to do with writing and publishing my books.
And that was how, in Australia, after a process that took years, I found myself. I began to embrace the most important part of who I am—the writer who had lived inside me ever since I was six years old—with responsibility and seriousness. The defining moment came when I stopped calling it my "dream" and started calling it my "plan." And the rest is history. (laughs)
PADILLA: When a poem is born, what usually comes first: an image, a line, an emotion, or an idea?
FERRONI: The words I wanted to say but kept silent. That's always the first thing that comes to mind, and alongside those words, of course, come the emotions. Sometimes I feel that, more than being a writer, I'm a translator of what happens inside my body, and all of that inevitably finds its way onto the page.
PADILLA: Your poems have a deeply intimate and approachable voice. How do you find the balance between sharing personal experiences and leaving room for readers to make the poems their own?
FERRONI: When I write, I don't think about the reader. I don't even think about myself. It's a process in which the words simply pass through me, and my only task is to write them down. It's as if I serve the writing, not the other way around. I've also always held this romantic belief that words find the readers they're meant to find. I don't know whether that will change as I grow older, but that's how I experience it today. What I have noticed is that the more personal my writing becomes, the more deeply it connects with readers.
PADILLA: Memory, displacement, and transformation seem to run throughout much of your work. What role does everyday experience play in your poetry? Do your poems usually begin with lived experience, or do you allow imagination to fill in the gaps?
FERRONI: Poetry is the only place where I can be completely honest, so yes, all of my poems begin with my own experiences. I can't write poetry from imagination alone; I can only write from feeling. Narrative, however, is different for me. I recently finished writing a novel that hasn't been published yet, and I truly enjoyed blending fiction and reality.
PADILLA: Every poet develops a different rhythm of work. What does your creative process look like? Do you wait for inspiration to arrive, or do you maintain a regular practice of writing and revision?
FERRONI: Whew... that's still something I'm trying to figure out. But, in short, my creative process has two stages: living intensely and writing that life.
I rarely finish anything I start, except my books. Even so, maintaining a steady writing routine is still difficult for me. Creativity moves through the body, and I still can't separate life itself from my creative process. For nearly two years, I followed a writing schedule for my novel, but I found it incredibly hard to write during the hours I had planned. There were days when I was supposed to write from 5:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m., but I would sit in front of my computer, and nothing would come. Then, later that night, the ideas and words would begin to arrive, and I'd end up writing from 10:00 p.m. until sunrise.
When it comes to revising poems and my novel, I'm much better at sticking to a schedule. But when I'm creating something from scratch, maintaining a writing routine is much more difficult—at least for me. I hope that, as I mature as a writer, I'll be able to create my own writing space and honor the schedule I set for myself from the very beginning.
PADILLA: Is there a particular stage in the process of writing a poetry collection that you especially enjoy? And is there one that always presents a challenge?
FERRONI: Yes. I absolutely love the stage where the collection comes together as a whole. That's the moment when I discover the thread connecting all the poems and begin arranging them so they tell a single story. Without a doubt, though, revision is the greatest challenge.
With my first book, Lugares a donde no puedo volver, I struggled tremendously to decide which poems, words, and ideas to remove or add. I expected the poems to be published exactly as they had first come to me, but I eventually understood that knowing what to cut, what to add, and what to revise is also part of being a good writer. By the time I worked on my second book, that stage of revision became a little easier because I approached it with a cooler head and was better able to set my emotions aside.
PADILLA: Has there ever been a message from a reader or an encounter that moved you deeply or changed the way you see one of your poems?
FERRONI: Yes. Two moments come to mind. The first was when a young woman told me that after reading my books she realized her own manuscript was missing "her truth." She had revised it so extensively with her editor that, in the end, she no longer recognized her own words. She told me that reading my work helped her realize that.
The second was when a thirteen-year-old girl told me that she also wrote and wanted to become someone like me when she grew up. Those are the moments when I understand that my poetry serves a greater purpose. Perhaps it's meant to inspire or help shape other artists. I don't know exactly what that purpose is yet, but that's how I feel.
PADILLA: If you could sit down and talk with the Agostina who had just begun writing her first poems, what advice would you give her?
FERRONI: I would tell her not to listen to anyone who says she can't become a writer—not even her parents. I would tell her to accept advice only from people who have achieved what she dreams of achieving, and to believe in herself more, because things come to us only when we first believe in them—and when we create them ourselves.
PADILLA: Which poets or authors have left the greatest mark on your development as both a reader and a writer? Is there a voice you always return to?
FERRONI: Yes. Elvira Sastre's poetry has moved me more deeply than anyone else's. Paola Soto is also an incredible poet. They are my two greatest influences. I've also read a great deal of Benjamín Prado, Luis García Montero, Alejandra Pizarnik, and Fernando Valverde. They were my first introduction to poetry, and I've carried them with me throughout my life.
Just a few years ago, I discovered the writing of Charlie Kaufman, the screenwriter, and he has also become one of my influences because of the masterful way he creates entire worlds through words. Music is another great source of inspiration for me. Today, I consider Lana Del Rey to be the greatest living poet.
PADILLA: In an era defined by immediacy and social media, what place do you think poetry occupies? What can it offer readers today?
FERRONI: I don't know if poetry exists to offer something in the sense of "serving" readers. I think its place today is one of enjoyment. It's there to offer a moment of pleasure and an appreciation of beauty to those who are able to discover it.
PADILLA: What do you hope readers will find when they finish Todas las personas que fui? Is there a particular emotion or question you hope stays with them after they close the book?
GERALD PADILLA: Agostina, thank you very much for speaking with us. To begin, how are you feeling at this point in your journey as a poet? What projects are you most excited about?
AGOSTINA FERRONI: Thank you so much for having me. From a literary standpoint, I'm in a very creative period: I'm writing a new book and polishing a poetry collection that is in its final stages. Fortunately, I'm always writing something new. As for life, I'm thrilled that I'll soon be traveling to the U.S. to give literary and cultural presentations in several states. I find it fascinating because, years ago, it seemed impossible to imagine that my art could take me to such incredible places.
PADILLA: I'd like to go back to the beginning. Do you remember when you realized that writing poetry was more than just a hobby? Was there a defining moment?
FERRONI: Yes. It's a moment in my life I couldn't forget even if I wanted to. I was twenty-five years old and living in Australia. Everything was both wonderful and terrible at the same time because I had a very good, comfortable life: I lived with my boyfriend in a beach town just a few blocks from the ocean, and I had a job I didn't enjoy, but that paid well enough for me to live comfortably and save money. Anyone who has lived and worked abroad knows that reaching the point where you're no longer sharing a house with strangers and your bank account is finally growing is difficult and takes a long time.
But there I was. Despite having that life, I felt an enormous emptiness. There was nothing that made me wake up motivated each morning. I also began thinking about the near future: Where would I be? What would I be doing for work? Would I return to my country? Would I go even farther away? Would I apply for permanent residency in Australia?
As I asked myself all of these questions, I came to the realization that I didn't even know who I truly was. That was my turning point. Before anything else, I had to figure out my identity. As I sifted through my memories, my experiences, and everything I had lived up to that moment, I realized there was only one thing that had always remained constant in my life: writing. Yet I had always treated it as a hobby, simply a way of expressing myself. While I was asking myself all of those questions, the only answers that made sense had to do with writing and publishing my books.
And that was how, in Australia, after a process that took years, I found myself. I began to embrace the most important part of who I am—the writer who had lived inside me ever since I was six years old—with responsibility and seriousness. The defining moment came when I stopped calling it my "dream" and started calling it my "plan." And the rest is history. (laughs)
PADILLA: When a poem is born, what usually comes first: an image, a line, an emotion, or an idea?
FERRONI: The words I wanted to say but kept silent. That's always the first thing that comes to mind, and alongside those words, of course, come the emotions. Sometimes I feel that, more than being a writer, I'm a translator of what happens inside my body, and all of that inevitably finds its way onto the page.
PADILLA: Your poems have a deeply intimate and approachable voice. How do you find the balance between sharing personal experiences and leaving room for readers to make the poems their own?
FERRONI: When I write, I don't think about the reader. I don't even think about myself. It's a process in which the words simply pass through me, and my only task is to write them down. It's as if I serve the writing, not the other way around. I've also always held this romantic belief that words find the readers they're meant to find. I don't know whether that will change as I grow older, but that's how I experience it today. What I have noticed is that the more personal my writing becomes, the more deeply it connects with readers.
PADILLA: Memory, displacement, and transformation seem to run throughout much of your work. What role does everyday experience play in your poetry? Do your poems usually begin with lived experience, or do you allow imagination to fill in the gaps?
FERRONI: Poetry is the only place where I can be completely honest, so yes, all of my poems begin with my own experiences. I can't write poetry from imagination alone; I can only write from feeling. Narrative, however, is different for me. I recently finished writing a novel that hasn't been published yet, and I truly enjoyed blending fiction and reality.
PADILLA: Every poet develops a different rhythm of work. What does your creative process look like? Do you wait for inspiration to arrive, or do you maintain a regular practice of writing and revision?
FERRONI: Whew... that's still something I'm trying to figure out. But, in short, my creative process has two stages: living intensely and writing that life.
I rarely finish anything I start, except my books. Even so, maintaining a steady writing routine is still difficult for me. Creativity moves through the body, and I still can't separate life itself from my creative process. For nearly two years, I followed a writing schedule for my novel, but I found it incredibly hard to write during the hours I had planned. There were days when I was supposed to write from 5:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m., but I would sit in front of my computer, and nothing would come. Then, later that night, the ideas and words would begin to arrive, and I'd end up writing from 10:00 p.m. until sunrise.
When it comes to revising poems and my novel, I'm much better at sticking to a schedule. But when I'm creating something from scratch, maintaining a writing routine is much more difficult—at least for me. I hope that, as I mature as a writer, I'll be able to create my own writing space and honor the schedule I set for myself from the very beginning.
PADILLA: Is there a particular stage in the process of writing a poetry collection that you especially enjoy? And is there one that always presents a challenge?
FERRONI: Yes. I absolutely love the stage where the collection comes together as a whole. That's the moment when I discover the thread connecting all the poems and begin arranging them so they tell a single story. Without a doubt, though, revision is the greatest challenge.
With my first book, Lugares a donde no puedo volver, I struggled tremendously to decide which poems, words, and ideas to remove or add. I expected the poems to be published exactly as they had first come to me, but I eventually understood that knowing what to cut, what to add, and what to revise is also part of being a good writer. By the time I worked on my second book, that stage of revision became a little easier because I approached it with a cooler head and was better able to set my emotions aside.
PADILLA: Has there ever been a message from a reader or an encounter that moved you deeply or changed the way you see one of your poems?
FERRONI: Yes. Two moments come to mind. The first was when a young woman told me that after reading my books she realized her own manuscript was missing "her truth." She had revised it so extensively with her editor that, in the end, she no longer recognized her own words. She told me that reading my work helped her realize that.
The second was when a thirteen-year-old girl told me that she also wrote and wanted to become someone like me when she grew up. Those are the moments when I understand that my poetry serves a greater purpose. Perhaps it's meant to inspire or help shape other artists. I don't know exactly what that purpose is yet, but that's how I feel.
PADILLA: If you could sit down and talk with the Agostina who had just begun writing her first poems, what advice would you give her?
FERRONI: I would tell her not to listen to anyone who says she can't become a writer—not even her parents. I would tell her to accept advice only from people who have achieved what she dreams of achieving, and to believe in herself more, because things come to us only when we first believe in them—and when we create them ourselves.
PADILLA: Which poets or authors have left the greatest mark on your development as both a reader and a writer? Is there a voice you always return to?
FERRONI: Yes. Elvira Sastre's poetry has moved me more deeply than anyone else's. Paola Soto is also an incredible poet. They are my two greatest influences. I've also read a great deal of Benjamín Prado, Luis García Montero, Alejandra Pizarnik, and Fernando Valverde. They were my first introduction to poetry, and I've carried them with me throughout my life.
Just a few years ago, I discovered the writing of Charlie Kaufman, the screenwriter, and he has also become one of my influences because of the masterful way he creates entire worlds through words. Music is another great source of inspiration for me. Today, I consider Lana Del Rey to be the greatest living poet.
PADILLA: In an era defined by immediacy and social media, what place do you think poetry occupies? What can it offer readers today?
FERRONI: I don't know if poetry exists to offer something in the sense of "serving" readers. I think its place today is one of enjoyment. It's there to offer a moment of pleasure and an appreciation of beauty to those who are able to discover it.
PADILLA: What do you hope readers will find when they finish Todas las personas que fui? Is there a particular emotion or question you hope stays with them after they close the book?
FERRONI: I would love for readers to finish the book having embraced all the parts of themselves that have been rejected or even forgotten, and hold them with compassion and respect. I hope they'll be able to look back on everything they've been with kindness and, in doing so, reclaim their identity, whatever that may look like.
PADILLA: Finally, what are you working on now? Is there anything you can share about your upcoming projects?
FERRONI: I have a new poetry collection that's almost finished, so yes, more poems are on the way, and I believe they're the best I've written so far. I'd love to reveal the title because I'm completely in love with it, but I'll only say that it has something to do with the sea. I wrote it during my final months living in Australia, so it's my most intimate work to date. It's like opening the doors to my home and then going to sleep, leaving everything exposed. That's how vulnerable the poems in that manuscript are.
PADILLA: Agostina, thank you so much for sharing this time with us. Is there anything else you'd like to say to the readers of Latino Book Review?
FERRONI: I'd like them to know that it's always possible to start over, no matter where they live or how old they are. Dreams don't know geographic or age limits. So if you've been carrying a dream, an idea, or a project with you for a long time, it's there for a reason. It's because you're meant to take your rightful place: the place of a creator.
PADILLA: Finally, what are you working on now? Is there anything you can share about your upcoming projects?
FERRONI: I have a new poetry collection that's almost finished, so yes, more poems are on the way, and I believe they're the best I've written so far. I'd love to reveal the title because I'm completely in love with it, but I'll only say that it has something to do with the sea. I wrote it during my final months living in Australia, so it's my most intimate work to date. It's like opening the doors to my home and then going to sleep, leaving everything exposed. That's how vulnerable the poems in that manuscript are.
PADILLA: Agostina, thank you so much for sharing this time with us. Is there anything else you'd like to say to the readers of Latino Book Review?
FERRONI: I'd like them to know that it's always possible to start over, no matter where they live or how old they are. Dreams don't know geographic or age limits. So if you've been carrying a dream, an idea, or a project with you for a long time, it's there for a reason. It's because you're meant to take your rightful place: the place of a creator.
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