The Sensitivity of Sensitivity Reads

One of my first essays on Substack, when I was testing out what I wanted to do, was about my editing process. Before I began podcasting, I was exploring my platform and had just gone through a brutal but necessary copyedit, and I wanted to talk about the lessons learned.

Write now in the ethos of publishing is a bit of a scandal about a writer when given feedback about an offensive bit of dialog in their novel, decided to keep it in to show the main character as “flawed.” Yes, racism is a flaw. Expressions of racism in a main character, a romantic hero is a flaw. I really do like my romance novels, well all novels without a side of microaggressions.

Some people argue that everyone is too sensitive or “too woke.” Others seem to long for a time when publishing was less scrutinized, less inclusive. You know, when inflammatory content could be published without consequence. Some long for the so-called “good old days” when most books catered to a dominant perspective reinforcing loud stereotypes, atmospheric patriarchal notions, or subtle supremacy.

Words are powerful. They can expand imaginations and help build better societies. When an author is not sensitive to the needs of others, that author will be found arguing with reviewers on social media, making faux apology videos, and getting publishers in trouble. If the scandal arising from publishing microaggressions, stereotypes, cultural appropriations, or racist and ableist sentiments is big enough, that author may face bans or delays in publication. If they have a fan base, they’ll be alright. I just don’t think it’s not worth it. No insensitive hill is worth dying on.

I’m 27 books into this process—twenty-five published, with number 26, A Wager at Midnight, set to release March 25. I value opinions, especially those different from mine or from perspectives and backgrounds unlike my own. I actually get nervous when an editor gives little to no feedback—I want it all. Iron sharpens iron. Critiques are how writers improve.

So let me pull back the curtain and share my process and how edits and sensitivity fit in the writing process.

First, I write the worst draft in the world. ➡ Revise ➡ Then Revise Some More ➡ Developmental Edits ➡ More Revision ➡ Sensitivity Review ➡ Copyediting ➡ Proofreading ➡ (And Pray—throughout!)

Worst Draft in the World

Every writer has to know how they write. I know my first draft needs to be between 25-30% of the final book’s word count. Any more than that and I’ll overwrite the book when I revise. That first draft is naked. I spend time, revising adding mood, colors, setting, historical touches, and emotional depth. I usually revise the awful-no-one-will-ever-see-it draft three times before going to the next stage.

Developmental Edits

Developmental editing tackles the big-picture elements: story structure, pacing, plot, character arcs, and themes. This stage addresses questions like: Does the story flow logically? Are the characters well-developed? Are there plot holes or inconsistencies? What’s the message? What’s the theme?

For every book I write, I hire a freelance editor. My Felicia gets the manuscript before my acquiring editor. Why? I want to turn in the best possible version of this book. So that editor won’t have to spend time plugging plot holes, catching redundancies, etc. One time, Felicia caught when I’ve changed character names mid-story. She knows me—and more importantly, she knows what I’m capable of delivering. I can confidently hit send to my acquiring editor knowing the manuscript is good. My editor gets it, and with their input, we can make a great book.

Back to Revisions

Back in my hot hands with my editor’s notes, it’s time to revise the manuscript again. This is my chance to refine it. I will rewrite sections and cut stuff. I’m rarely asked to expand—such is the happenstance of being a wordy, word-loving author. But I’m brutal at this stage. No word, storyline, or character is safe. I will cut. I will cut with abandon. In my next historical fiction coming January 2026, I cut 55,000 words. Let me say that again. Fifty-five thousand. Yes, it sucked. It hurt. It’s not like I can just put these words into another book but it was the best call. The book is better for. I believe in my editor’s feedback. I’ll do what’s necessary to send readers the best book.

At this point we’re in good shape. Let’s get back to being sensitivity.

The Sensitivity Touch

Sensitivity readers are supposed to review the manuscript to ensure your beautiful words doesn’t offend, get you sued, or put you on a watch list. Every one of my historical fictions—Island Queen, Sister Mother Warrior, Queen of Exiles– has been subjected to sensitivity reviews. My editor, publisher, and I want to make sure these books are accurate and respectfully represent cultures, identities, and historical events.

It’s a crucial step. It can’t be overlooked when tackling diverse characters or sensitive topics. Look, I am Black. I’m of Caribbean descent. Dad was Trini and Ma was Southern Baptist Black. I don’t get a pass to say I can automatically write about Haitian or Jamaican cultures. I do meticulous research about the most minute details, because I take my responsibility very seriously to represent these cultures and ancient peoples with respect. But I’m not perfect. I want the help. I need someone to kick my manuscript and put it through the emotional-cultural wringer before I get lit on fire by putting something out that’s wrong or, worse, offensive.

Sensitivity readers provide essential notes on areas that may inadvertently cause harm or perpetuate stereotypes. Writers, we are not supposed to do harm. Stories have power. They have a life and energy of their own. Authenticity and inclusivity elevate your writing. Don’t you want positive impact?

Copyediting and Proofreading

We’re not done. Copyediting and proofreading take our writing to the finish line. Copyediting hones in on the finer details and examines grammar, punctuation, sentence structure, consistency, and clarity. The previous edits have messed with the story a lot. A copyeditor should identify errors and flag inconsistencies. A good copyeditor will highlight blocking (the entering and exiting of characters from a scene) repetitive words or phrases—those dreaded echoes! A great copyeditor will teach you something. I recently learned that “hubris” wasn’t used until the mid-19th century—a fascinating tidbit for a proud historical fiction writer trying to write a 17th century novel.

Proofreading

A proofreader does a final pass before publication. They catch lingering typos, formatting issues, and minor errors that slipped through earlier stages. Even the most seasoned author can’t catch every mistake, not on their own. Proofreading ensures your book meets top quality standards.

My Mantra for Edits

All the hard work in crafting a story means nothing if you neglect editing or decide on a whim to leaving in something “flawed” for kicks. Welcome to my Ted talk:

* Absorb the critique: It’s not an attack—it’s insight. Sensitivity edits aren’t judgments on you, but your characters. Listen to the wisdom.

* Weigh the Critique: There’s a difference between personal preference and a flashing red light—know which you’re dealing with.

* Have Your Sources Ready: Have your references handy to support accuracy. Include them in your author’s note. Someone is bound to have the question. (PSA: Always add an author’s note.)

* Query, Don’t Assume: Never make a decision to revise—or not—based on assumptions. Challenge both your own and your editor’s perspectives. Make sure neither is rooted in a colonizer’s lens—unless you’re literally writing about Christopher Columbus. (Example: A copyeditor once tried to tell me the Khoe people were incorrectly addressed. That I shouldn’t call them by that name or “Khoesans” because it was created in 1928. The Khoe have existed since 2300 BC. My book was set in 1675. I think Khoe is good. Source documents are in the author’s note.

* Question Dialogue and POV: Read the editors notes. Sometimes they are right about things sounding “too formal or stilted.” Read actual correspondence from the period. It will surprise you about how informal things can be. Make sure you read James by Percival Everett or Lady Tan’s Circle of Women by Lisa See, two masterful uses of dialog entwined to tell ancient stories for the modern audience.

* Be Humble: Negative feedback stings, but it’s a tool for growth. Questions and queries are opportunities to clarify, refine, and strengthen your work.

* Avoid Harm: Represent cultures with authenticity and respect. Sensitivity edits help you sidestep pitfalls that could undermine your credibility.

* If someone flags an issue, fix it: Even if you don’t see it as a problem, take it seriously. If one reader finds something harmful or offensive, chances are others will too. If you are dealing with fictional characters, you can change stuff. If real people are jerks, that’s harder—see A People’s History of the United States” by Howard Zinn to learn or debunk ideas about the horrid exploits of Christopher Columbus. I don’t believe in whitewashing or hiding the truth. Dismissing concerns as “not a big deal” is a failure. It is a big deal. Rise to the moment.

Editing is an investment—not just for your benefit but for your readers. Every stage—developmental edits, revisions, sensitivity reviews, copyediting, and proofreading—are needed to make your novel the best it can be. Your story, your readers, and your publisher deserve that effort. Don’t be defensive. Do the right thing.

Show Notes:

This week we are linking to FoxTale’s Bookshop through Bookshop.org.

Books by Vanessa Riley:Riley, V. (Year). A Wager at Midnight. [Publisher].Riley, V. (2021). Island Queen. William Morrow.Riley, V. (2022). Sister Mother Warrior. William Morrow.Riley, V. (2023). Queen of Exiles. William Morrow.

Other Fiction & Nonfiction Books:Everett, P. (2024). James. Doubleday.See, L. (2023). Lady Tan’s Circle of Women. Scribner.Zinn, H. (1980). A People’s History of the United States. Harper & Row.

(Bonus) Writing & Editing Book:Browne, R., & King, D. (2004). Self-editing for Fiction Writers: How to Edit Yourself into Print (2nd ed.). William Morrow.

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe

Originally posted 2025-03-04 14:10:00.

On December 6, 2024, I sat down to write my feelings after licking my wounds from the America I woke up to on November 5. 2024.

The country felt less kind. Definitely, less gentle. This America willingly choosing boisterous, noisy incompetence, and the awful idea that your neighbor stole your opportunity. This choice was madeover competence, compassion, and stable beef prices.

So I did what I know how to do.

I wrote my feelings. I put pen to paper—or more accurately, fingers to keyboard—and I put all my thoughts and my heart on to the page. This essay launched my Substack.

I wrote a quote:

“But mama, I’m in love with a criminal,

And this type of love isn’t rational, it’s physical.

Mama, please don’t cry, I will be alright,

All reason aside, I just can’t deny, I love the guy.”

– Britney Spears, “Criminal” (Femme Fatale, 2011)

This was my Luigi Mangione phase.

To be honest, I was confused about Substack. Is is a newsletter? Is it a social media? Is it something else. But once, I played with the format and tossed up a podcast post, and you guys downloaded it, I got bigger ideas and turned to you guys for accountability. I would write one podcast essay for a year.

So the first podcast episode/ essay was The Weight of “Diverse”. My take of what was happening in publishing. Thrilling. And you tuned in. We’re almost at 17,000 downloads and hundreds of thousands of Substack views.

This was a unique challenge. I’m glad I stuck with this form of writing.

But, people often say, Vanessa, you write books. You’re always writing your heart. And that’s true. But there’s also a distance when I write about other people’s lives. It’s not me. I’m not the main character. Writing good historical fiction, romance, or mystery requires analysis. It requires restraint. I don’t pass judgment on the lives I’m bringing back to you.

In Sister Mother Warrior, I could not fault a Dahomey Warrior from following her king’s orders to sell captives any more than I can pass judgement on a 2025 sailor following his naval chief’s commands to bomb a fishing vessel. It’s the commanders of US Forces in the Caribbean and its chain of command that bringing back pirates.

But I digress.

If I were Jacquotte Delahaye, I might’ve stayed in the kitchen in Tortuga making soup, not run away to live a dream as a pirate. As a writer, I have to make their chaos—make sense. Otherwise, I’m not doing you the reader any good. And I refuse to dishonor the lives I’ve been entrusted with.

Everything I write in those books is layered on hard-fought facts: databases, archival digging, obscure records, and I do whatever it takes to bring readers closer to secret history, closer than they’ve ever been before.

Why?

I’m tired of women, particularly Black women and women of color, being portrayed as only victims in history. As if they survived history only through endurance, servitude, or some narrow “mammy-fixation” lens. My work insists they were complex, capable, and human.

But writing these weekly essay—this space—was different.

The first essay I wrote here was messy. Conflicted. It carried my trademark style to walk readers into someone else’s shoes, even when that perspective is uncomfortable. It also came with a promise I made to myself: that here, I would be open. Vulnerable. That I would talk to you as friends—friends willing to sit with my essay and listen.

For 52 weeks—an entire year—I’ve shown up. Most Mondays, I record in the evening, setting everything up so that by Tuesday at 9:10 AM, you’d receive something new. A weekly offering. A kind of fresh manna. Each episode was labor but it’s also a small love letter from me to you.

I’m, unapologetically, a write-aholic. But keeping that pace hasn’t been easy. There were nights I wanted sleep more than words. Days when another book’s edits or word count loomed. But when I commit to something I believe matters, I show up. I do the work.

For 52 weeks, you’ve allowed me to stand on the proverbial rooftop and shout my thoughts into what could have been a void.

But it wasn’t a void. You were there—listening, encouraging, learning, reflecting. Thank you.

This work takes effort. Real effort. From shaping ideas to wrestling them into coherence, then editing and distributing across platforms. We won’t even get into the technical gymnastics of getting everything out into the world.

Still, I’m grateful. I’m grateful we’re on Substack. On Apple Podcasts. On Spotify, iHeartRadio, Amazon Music, Spreaker, and YouTube. Each platform grows at its own pace, each teaches me something new. And I’m especially grateful that you are here.

As we head into the final weeks of 2025, I want to be clear: I’m not going anywhere.

Season Two begins next week. For the most part, this new year will continue as a weekly offering—my thoughts, shaped into essays. Occasionally, I may invite a guest, someone I’m learning from, someone who stretches my thinking. But this is not an interview show. There are plenty of those already. This space remains what it has always been: a place for reflection, curiosity, and shared thought. And when something special comes along, I’ll bring it here first—to my friends.

So thank you. Truly. Thank you for tuning in every week. For commenting, sharing, downloading, and telling others about this podcast. In some dark moments this year, your presence mattered more than you know. To everyone who has paid a subscription, you have blessed me. If I don’t have your mailing address, please email it to me. I have a writing journal that I’ve designed that I want to send to you.

And finally as I close Season One, I’ll leave you with this encouragement: we all have a right of passage. But I don’t want us to sail past each other like ships in the night. I want us to sit together—to talk, to think about the bigger ideas and the higher places we might go, together.

This week’s booklist is last week’s spotlight. Books coming out in January that need a little more love:

With Love, Harlem by ReShonda Tate — This is a fictionalized version of Hazel Scott’s story.

The Seven Daughters of Dupree by Nikesha Elise Williams — A multi‑generational family epic following seven Dupree women.

Burn Down the Master’s House by Clay Cane — A searing, urgent exploration of race, identity, and power .

Last First Kiss by Julian Winters — A second‑chance, slow‑burn romance about an Atlanta event planner.

Happy Habits for Successful Women by Valorie Burton — A practical, empowering guide that encourages women to adopt mindset and behavioral habits to become healthier, more resilient, and more aligned with their goals and values.

Behind These Walls by Yasmin Angoe — A twist‑driven psychological thriller in which a woman infiltrates a wealthy family’s mansion under false pretenses.

Murder From A to Z by V.M. Burns — A cozy‑mystery in which bookstore owner and and her sister uncover sinister dealings at a retirement village.

This week, I’m highlighting The Book Worm Bookstore through their website and Bookshop.org .

Consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea from The Book Worm Bookstore or one of my partners in the fight, bookstore’s large and small who are in this with me.

Come on my readers. Let’s get everyone excited for January reads.

Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast.

You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.

Enjoying the vibe? Ready for Season 2? Go ahead and like this episode, share, and subscribe to Write of Passage so you never miss a moment.”

Thank you for listening. Hopefully, you’ll come again. This is Vanessa Riley.

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe