We love guests, especially other Regency enthusiasts presenting their card to our footman for admission to join us at our Blog Ball. On February 13th, Julie Klassen stopped by and taught a few dance moves with her latest release, The Dancing Master.
The Dancing Master by Julie Klassen
We also had a lot of brave souls sharing their dancing triumphs and disasters.
Lucky number 13 from the bottom, Sybil Bates McCormack is the winner of her choice of ebook or print of The Dancing Master.
Every time the world feels unstable, and an artist dares answer an interview question, we get the same memo: stay in your lane. Entertain. Distract. Don’t dare analyze what’s happening. Don’t name it. Don’t challenge it. Shut up.
I’m sorry to inform you—I’m not your minstrel on demand. If you’re big mad about that, go sit in the corner and think about why.
Art has always been political. Perhaps your outrage is the real performance. So maybe, you need to quiet and listen.
Shut Up and Write
In February 2018, Fox News host Laura Ingraham responded to comments made by NBA superstar LeBron James with a phrase that ricocheted across the culture: “Shut up and dribble.”
She was reacting to an interview James gave alongside Kevin Durant, in which he spoke not only about basketball but about race, leadership, and the lived reality of being a Black man in America. Ingraham dismissed his words as “barely intelligible” and suggested that someone “paid $100 million a year to bounce a ball” should keep his political opinions to himself.
But here’s the thing: the minute you ask a Black person about their experience in America, you are no longer asking about “just sports.” You are asking about history. You are asking about citizenship. You are asking about survival. And you are asking for our truth.
When you tell him or her or them to shut up and dribble, what you are really saying is:
Perform. Entertain. Produce. But do not speak.
That phrasing doesn’t emerge in a vacuum. It echoes a long American tradition—of Black bodies celebrated for talent but silenced in intellect; commodified for labor but dismissed in leadership; applauded for artistry but censored in analysis. From minstrel stages to modern arenas, the script has too often been the same: dazzle us, but do not disrupt us.
And yet, LeBron did not shut up.
He went about his business—on and off the court. He used the moment to amplify conversations about injustice, education, and opportunity. He built schools. He funded scholarships. He made sure that his platform included not just athletic excellence but civic voice. When he was told to shrink, he expanded.
I guess that is what unsettles people. Not that LeBron dribbles—but that he keeps speaking.
So on Threads, Twitter, pretty much all your parasitical streets, I hear authors being told a version of that command:
“Just shut up and write.”
Don’t talk politics.
Don’t analyze power.
Don’t interrogate policy.
Stick to romance.
Stick to fiction.
Tell us about dukes and wagers and stolen glances, but do not dare connect the past to the present. In my June release, A Deal at Dawn, some readers are dying to know if the Duke of Torrance survives a chronic illness Black communities still suffer from today, but many more want to hear about the hurt-comfort caregiving in his bathtub or his foot fetish.
In Fire Sword and Sea, some want to hear about the hijinks of women cross-dressing as men but forget about the systems of government that oppress them and force them into piracy as their way to survive.
And since I’ve been writing to you weekly, I’ve gotten those nasty little emails telling me that I should stick to writing historical fiction and leave politics alone.
To those folks, what the heck do you think I have been writing all along?
When I describe women rising up in hostile systems, about enslavement and trafficking, about corrupt leaders, white supremacy, about diseases neglected because they ravage Brown bodies—I am writing politics. I’m writing about policy. I am writing about power. Corsets and cravats and crowns never dilute the truth.
You cannot celebrate the art and forbid analysis.
You cannot applaud the talent and mute the testimony.
You cannot consume the culture and silence the creator.
The expectation that artists remain apolitical is itself political.
It says:
We want your labor, LeBron, not your leadership, Jasmine
Your imagination, Micheal B, not your insight—Delroy
You are for entertainment, forget the lived experiences that got you here.
But identity is not something I can toggle off between chapters. When you ask me about my work, you are asking about my worldview. When you ask about my characters, you are asking about justice and injustice as much as you reading for love.
And love is power, and it is always political.
We are living in times that feel combustible. Many are waking up to realities they once refused to see.
They don’t know who to trust. They want words of comfort. But where are you going to get that? You told me to shut up and write.
Writers, creators—moments like this, it’s easier to retreat—to binge-watch comfort shows, to lose ourselves in manuscripts, to hide in deadlines and drafts. I, too, would love to stay in my rom-com era. I would love to focus solely on shenanigans and happily-ever-afters. But even I can only binge-watch MythBusters, hockey, and Bridgerton for so long.
So no, I cannot just shut up and write.
I must write. Writing is my blood laid bare on the page. I will not go quietly into the night.
To my fellow writers, artists, thinkers—especially those who are tired, furious, heartsick:
Don’t shut up.
Do keep writing.
Write your joy.
Write your grief.
Write your analysis.
Write your satire.
Write your fury.
Take your rage and forge it into paragraphs that burn the soul of the nation clean. Take your voice and worldview and shape it into essays that clarify righteousness, that take it from the hands of the deceiver. Take your heartbreak and craft stories that remind us what humanity is supposed to be.
Art is our last defense. So players play. Actors act. Legislators legislate. Activists be active.
But writers? Remember. Record. Reimagine. Write.
So speak.
Write.
Create.
Refuse to politely disappear.
This week’s booklist feature Women writers, sheroes:
The Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois — Honorée Fanonne Jeffers: A sweeping, multigenerational novel that braids Black love, scholarship, and history affirming—there is no separating the personal from the political.
Fire Sword and Sea — Vanessa Riley: A sweeping historical novel that exposes pirates, sisterhood, and survival in the chaotic and diverse 17th-century (1600s) Caribbean.
Consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea from Loyalty Bookstore or from one of my partners in the fight, bookstores large and small, who are hanging with me.
Come on, my readers, my beautiful listeners. Let’s keep everyone excited about Fire Sword and Sea.
You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com, under the podcast link in the About tab.
Let’s keep rising and creating together. Please like, subscribe, and share the podcast. And stay connected to Write of Passage.
Thank you for listening. I want you to come again. This is Vanessa Riley.
Upcoming Events for Vanessa Riley
Virtual FB chat on Fire Sword and Sea with the Personal Librarians.
Book Lovers at Baltimore Library
Herstory Author Salon: Tanya Time Book Club with host Tanya Sams featuring Sadeqa Johnson, Reshonda Tate, and Vanessa Riley. – March 22
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
Funny thing happens when you go outside.You notice that everything is still moving—still shifting, still becoming—and no matter how much I want it to revolve around me, the earth does its own thing. That’s humbling. That’s sobering. And yes, at times, alittle infuriating. Because I want to believe that if I just dream hard enough, andwork long enough, and sacrifice deep enough, the outcome will be what I want it to be.
That’s the narrative, right? Manifest it. Hustle for it. Build it and it will show up.
But I’m a novelist. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from writing story after story, it’s this: you can do everything right and still be surprised by the ending.
I begin my novels with a solid outline. I do deep dives into my characters—their goals, their beliefs, their relationships, and internalized lies. Yes, the lies we carry. The ones that sit rotting in our guts. They’re the lenses through which we interpret everything.
You’re smart… Smart for a girl. That builds a complex—not about excelling, just about measuring up.Men don’t cry… So they keep loss inside until it breaks them.
You get the picture.
For each character, I must know the lies they’ve accepted as truth, the wounds they carry that must be healed by the journey or story arc. These are full psychological profiles that I develop, mind you. I’m thorough. I think I know these imagined or fictionalized versions of real people better than they know themselves.
And still—those characters go off and do whatever the heck they want to do. They have free will.These changes—the veering off course—happen in a world I designed. And in some aspects, I’m their creator.
If this happens in fiction—fiction—why do I expect real life to follow a given path?
This is where we, as creatives, have to hold two truths at once: We have incredible power to imagine and make. And we have almost no control over how the world will respond. That is not a contradiction. That is your calling.
This is the battle. Creativity is under assault. Let’s not pretend otherwise. Books are being banned. Funding is being slashed. Whole histories are being erased or whitewashed. And in my case, as I’ve shared openly with you words, I need to use for my stories are being banned. (See podcast episode- Welcome to Censorship)
But despite all that—people are still painting. Still writing, publishing, creating. We still feed our families and their spirits with meals inspired by faraway places.
I may make more food at home right now, but with lovely spices? Oh, they’re Caribbean, Italian, French, Indian. I’m not limited. We are not limited.
And I refuse to give away my power because someone with a louder megaphone thinks yelling is the same as truth.
Recently, the world changed again: We have a new pope.
A 133 cardinal electors gathered in the Sistine Chapel to choose to choose him. Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost of Chicago, Illinois, has been elected the 267th pontiff of the Roman Catholic Church. He will be known as Pope Leo XIV—the first pope ever from the United States.
An American pope. From Chicago. A man of Creole, Haitian, and Black ancestry. And while this isn’t the first Black pope—history records at least three others:Pope Victor I (189–199), Pope Miltiades (311–314), and Pope Gelasius I (492–496).
This election still matters. Why? Because no one saw it coming. Because he is from here. Because he chose the name Leo XIV—following Pope Leo XIII, the pope who denounced slavery. In a world trying so hard to erase the past, that choice feels like a restoration. A breath of truth. A puff of white smoke in a sky of dirty smog and denial.
This is what hope looks like: a surprise rooted in deep legacy. A story arc no one plotted, but that landed with power.
Now, let’s be real about the work ahead Shake off the shackles. Listen to hard truths.
For authors and creators out there—especially us Black folks:
* No one owes you anything.Not an award, not a list spot, not a book sale, not a post about your personal life—not even a selfie.
* As an author, you have to earn every bit of support, every accolade, every “yes.”That’s the job.
* As a Black author, the grind is steeper.You can’t coast on past wins. You’ve got to win readers over—again and again.
* If you’re not where you want to be—cry, scream, kick a pillow.But don’t quit. And don’t compare. You don’t know the price someone else paid to get what they got.Be thankful for where you are and who’s standing beside you.
* Keep writing. Keep connecting. Keep striving.Earn it. Build it. Own it.
* Grow the bucket list. Manifest it all.You deserve every win—because I know you’re putting in the work. I’m rooting for you.
The world keeps turning. It’s not waiting for me or you. But that’s not terrible. It means we’re part of something bigger than the moment. It means our stories, our voices, our presence—matter.
Because even when everything feels unpredictable, we still have the power to show up and create—and make something unexpected happen.
And it will feel good and satisfying, even if you are the only one clapping.
Books to help you on your writing and creative journey:
A haunting, brilliant reflection on Black life, history, and navigating systems built to erase.
And Preorders are up fo for my next historical fiction, Fire Sword and Sea. This is A dangerous 1600s Pirate Saga unmasking the truth about women, desire, and freedom.Some folks want to ban this story—so read it first.
Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast. This week, I’m highlighting 44th and 3rd Bookstore through their website and Bookshop.org
You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.
If you felt seen or inspired today, like and subscribe to Write of Passage—there’s a place for you here.
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
“What place is so proper as the assembly-room to see the fashions and manners of the times, to study men and characters…” Thomas Wilson, Dancing Master, An analysis of Country Dancing, 1811, pg. 6 of The Dancing Master.
Vanessa here,
It was late. The lights had dulled. I turned to leave, and there across the crowded bookstore, I saw it. A book like no other.
Timed to the subtle Barnes & Noble background minuet, I stepped near and ran a finger along it’s fine spine. It whispered a blurb just for me.
Finding himself the man of the family, London dancing master Alec Valcourt moves his mother and sister to remote Devonshire, hoping to start over. But he is stunned to learn the village matriarch has prohibited all dancing, for reasons buried deep in her past.
Alec finds an unlikely ally in the matriarch’s daughter. Though he’s initially wary of Julia Midwinter’s reckless flirtation, he comes to realize her bold exterior disguises a vulnerable soul—and hidden sorrows of her own.
Julia is quickly attracted to the handsome dancing master—a man her mother would never approve of—but she cannot imagine why Mr. Valcourt would leave London, or why he evades questions about his past. With Alec’s help, can Julia uncover old secrets and restore life to her somber village . . . and to her mother’s tattered heart?
Filled with mystery and romance, The Dancing Master brings to life the intriguing profession of those who taught essential social graces for ladies and gentlemen hoping to make a “good match” in Regency England.
The Dancing Master by Julie Klassen
It had me at Finding. With The Dancing Master tucked firmly in my grasp, I gave the attendant my coins and fled to a carriage, content in the knowledge I’d found a joy to keep me warm through the frigid Atlanta night.
Vanessa: Today at R&R we have Julie Klassen joining us. Julie, it is my pleasure to welcome you back to Regency Reflections. The Dancing Master ‘s premise really intrigues me. Normally, we see Regency books with the hero as a duke, a barrister, a spy, or maybe a doctor, but a dancing master, not so much. How did you come up with this idea?
Julie: In Regency England, dancing was one of a limited number of ways young men and women could spend time together or court one another. It was considered such an important social skill that parents hired dancing masters to come into the homes and teach their sons and daughters to dance. “Every savage can dance,” Mr. Darcy says, but unless one wished to dance very ill (Mr. Collins comes to mind) lessons were crucial. So, as an author of half a dozen other books set in the Regency era—and someone who loves to dance–it was probably only a matter of time until I wrote about a dancing master. As I say in my author’s note, I learned to dance the box step standing atop my dad’s size 15 triple E shoes. Later, I went on to take every ballroom dance class I could sign up for at the University of Illinois. I even taught a few dance classes of my own through community ed. I enjoyed drawing on all of these experiences to write this book. Like ballroom dancing, I find English country dancing exhilarating, joyful, and just plain fun. I hope to express that joy in the novel.
Vanessa: Wow, Dad has some big shoes to fill. Poor Mr. Klassen, has his work cut out for him, between dad and all of your romantic heroes. Tell me about what kind of research you conducted. Hopefully plenty of dancing.
Julie: I read instructional guides and journals written by dancing masters of ages past, and watched reenactors perform English country dances online. But the best and most enjoyable kind of research was actually learning dances from that period. My dear, long-suffering husband and I went English country dancing several times.
Julie Klassen at the Ball
I also attended the annual general meeting of the Jane Austen Society of North America, held in Minneapolis in 2013. There, I took two more dancing classes to polish my skills before the “Netherfield ball,” complete with live musicians and costumes. It was a wonderful experience to dance with fellow Austen fans from around the world.
During the conference, we also watched a BBC production: “Pride And Prejudice: Having A Ball.” In this program, a team of experts recreated a private Regency ball, complete with historical food, costumes, music, and dances. Unlike most of the sedate dances we see performed in period movies nowadays, in reality many of the dances of the era were fast paced and lively. Those of us watching were surprised how energetic the dances were, and how the performers (trained dancers in their twenties) were breathing hard and perspiring after a few dances.
By viewing the program and taking the dance classes, I gleaned several details to include in The Dancing Master. For example, when a couple reaches the top or bottom of a long-ways set (line of dancers) they stand out for a round before working their way back up or down the line. This gives couples a breather, and more importantly, a chance to talk and flirt with their partners!
If you’d like to learn more about the JASNA conference, here’s a fun video my publisher took of me (in costume) at the event. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5KmFKlJlfk
Vanessa: Ok, enough of the pleasantries. Julie, tell me about dreamy Alec Valcourt.
Julie: Alec is capable, loyal, and determined to support his mother and sister. He is a sharp dresser, prefers to keep his hands clean, and wields a fencing sword far better than an axe or spade in a rural village where most men are farmers or miners. As you can imagine, this leads to several painful scrapes along the way.
Vanessa: Why is Julia Midwinter the perfect foil to Alec?
Julie: Julia is a bit reckless, flirtatious, and difficult. But like many people in real life, there is more going on beneath the surface—and in her past—that has made her who she is. As the story unfolds and secrets are revealed, Alec begins to see the vulnerable, wounded soul beneath the brash exterior. He learns to understand her and becomes fond of her, especially as she begins to grow and change, and I hope readers will follow his lead.
Vanessa: Growing and changing. Sigh. I know I’ve made a few mistakes on that road. What spiritual truth would have made a difference to Julia, if she had realized it at the beginning?
Julie: All her life, she had been seeking a father’s love and approval. And if she could not have a father’s love, then any man’s approval would do. She had strived so long and so hard to gain attention in the wrong ways and from the wrong people…. If Julia had realized earlier that even though her earthy father failed her, her heavenly father loved her and highly valued her–she might have avoided some of the foolish things she did to try to fill the void left by the absence of a father’s love.
Vanessa: After reading Julia’s and Alec’s story, what else do have for us. There will be more cold nights in Atlanta.
Julie: I am currently working on rewrites for my next Regency-era novel with Bethany House Publishers. It’s a mysterious romance called The Secret of Pembrooke Park, and is due to be released December 2014.
Vanessa: Julie, The Dancing Master, is an amazing book. Asking this of any author is unfair, but if you could sum up the spiritual journey in one word what would it be?
Julie: Grace. I enjoyed weaving in grace in its many forms–social graces, grace in dancing, and most importantly, God’s grace—and I hope readers will be reminded of His amazing grace for us all.
Vanessa: Thank you for being a great sport and sharing this special book with us.
Julie: Thank you for having me here!
Julie Klassen is going to give away a paperback or e-book copy of The Dancing Master to one lucky commenter. Share with us your favorite dance, dance scene, or dance disaster. Mine took place at last year’s RWA conference when I tried to do a reel. There’s video….
Any way, here’s an excerpt from The Dancing Master:
“May I help you with something, Miss Midwinter?” Alec said officiously, hoping to chase the self-satisfied grin from her face.
“Yes, actually.” She clasped her hands. “I’ve come for a dancing lesson. Here—since Lady Amelia would never allow it in the house.”
He licked dry lips and felt his pulse rate quicken. Part of him relished the notion of being alone with Miss Midwinter. Enjoying her company and her undivided attention. Taking her hand in his to lead her through a private dance in a deserted churchyard . . . His chest tightened at the thought.
But he knew all too well the possible consequences of such stolen moments. Such seemingly innocent beginnings.
She took a step forward, and he stepped back. She performing the chassé, and he performing the dance of retreat.
He said, “Miss Midwinter. Before we proceed any further, I must tell you that I have a strict policy against any romantic involvement with my pupils.”
She blinked, momentarily taken aback. “In that case, perhaps I ought to reconsider becoming a pupil of yours.”
JULIE KLASSEN loves all things Jane—Jane Eyre and Jane Austen. A graduate of the University of Illinois, Julie worked in publishing for sixteen years and now writes full time. Three of her books have won the Christy Award for Historical Romance. She has also won Christian Retailing’s BEST Award and has been a finalist in the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Awards. Julie and her husband have two sons and live in St. Paul, Minnesota.
For any writer or creator, the edit is your best tool or best weapon. Every paragraph, article, headline, every broadcast, even every post is a choice—what stays in, what gets cut, who gets protected, and who gets exposed are choices. If you have the power to edit, you have the power to do better. Let’s talk about the superpower that comes with great responsibility.
Fifteen Seconds and a Slur
The edit is intentional.
The greatest tool any author carries is not talent, not inspiration, not even discipline. It is the edit. The edit is where intention meets responsibility. It is where raw creation becomes art.
No one—no one—sits down and instantly produces a masterpiece. Manuscripts are not born polished. They are wrestled into being. They are drafted in confusion, in bursts of brilliance, in gaps of missing facts and half-remembered details. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve left myself placeholders—XXX—so I can go back and hunt down what I actually meant: the correct monetary value of a tavern meal in pirate haven Port Royal, the historical cut of a waistcoat or falls of breaches, the name of a street or rue in Hispaniola. It’s never right on the first go.
Returning to it on the next pass, the next edit—that’s where the magic happens. The edit is the intentional power to clarify what you meant. The power to fix what you missed. The power to elevate what almost worked into what truly does.
I’ve worked with brilliant editors and those who gave me brilliant headaches. I even hire my own. A good editor helps me see what I cannot see. They bring perspective, distance, and rigor. But even then, I choose. I decide what advice to accept, what to reconsider, and what to reshape. Editing is collaboration—but it is also stewardship. Before any manuscript moves to the next level—before submission or publication—it carries the weight of my choices. Another set of eyes will add more to the manuscript. Every perspective reveals something new. That’s how diligent writers reach the best version of a book earthly possible.
Writers are not the only ones who wield this magic tool.
Video editing is editing. What you choose to upload to your social feeds—what you trim, what you blur, what you cut out—matters. I am more conscious of accidentally revealing mailing addresses in the background of one of my post office runs. Everyone should hide vulnerable information that should not be public, and watch for angles that misrepresent.
The edit shapes our experience. On TikTok, Threads, Bluesky, Instagram—even if you wander back to Twitter—you should be curating what we see. That curation, that social edit is power.
Journalists edit, too. They decide:
* Whose names appear?
* Which details matter?
* Which context is included?
* And which bits of info are left out?
That is why it unsettles me when journalists act as if they are powerless—when they behave as though they must show everything, or they both-sides-things normalizing crazy, and seem to be okay with pieces that distort or wound.
When civil rights leader and Rainbow Coalition founder Jesse Jackson died peacefully at 84 on February 17, 2026, after long battles with Parkinson’s disease, the headline was clear: a giant of the civil rights movement had passed, noting Jackson was:
* A key figure in the struggle after Martin Luther King Jr.
* A two-time presidential candidate.
* A successful hostage negotiator (over 100 returned to the US).
* A man whose life reshaped American political possibility.
Yet in a brief radio mention—a mere fifteen-second clip to commemorate his death—the spot highlighted not only Jackson’s death but his son’s past troubles. Fifteen seconds. In a moment meant for legacy, painful and tangential details were inserted. That is an edit. That is a choice.
Editing is not neutral.
The same lesson unfolded at the BAFTA Film Awards. During a broadcast on BBC, Tourette syndrome campaigner John Davidson shouted a racial slur while actors Delroy Lindo and Michael B. Jordan stood on stage presenting an award. Both men—accomplished, respected, peers among peers—were subjected to one of the most dehumanizing words in the English language, the N-word. The live moment was shocking enough. But the editing was worse.
The slur remained in the BBC broadcast and was replayed worldwide three hours later. The corporation later apologized, saying producers in the truck had not heard it. Meanwhile, other moments—such as calls of “Free Palestine”—were edited out of the rebroadcast. Actor Alan Cumming, hosting the ceremony, initially offered an explanation centered on Tourette syndrome and apologized “if you are offended.” Later reactions grew sharper. Producer Hannah Beachler criticized what she described as a throwaway apology.
Editing is a choice.
The decision to leave a racial epithet while removing a political statement is not accidental neutrality. It reveals priority. It reveals what is deemed urgent to correct and what is allowed to linger. The reasoning behind the slur—whether involuntary or not—does not erase the harm of its broadcast. And apologies that focus first on explanation rather than impact misses the point.
As writers, we should understand this. We need to understand that impact matters more than intent. That harm can occur even when harm was not planned. That’s why sensitivity reads exist. In my essay, The Sensitivity of Sensitivity Reads, I have told you the fun and pain of sensitivity reads
I may have disagreed with a line or two of a sensitivity read, but I’ve never dismissed the feedback, especially without sitting with it. Editing with sensitivity returns us to the guiding principle: do no harm.
Editing is how we live that principle.
Where is the editing? It must be gone, and groupthink is in. Old guard systems become blind—or arrogant—about the damage they cause. They forget that every rebroadcast, every headline, every fifteen-second plug can cause curated chaos.
Care about your words as fiercely as you care about being right. Care about your audience as much as you care about being provocative. If something slips through—if harm was done unintentionally—you can always edit—fix what you’ve done. You have a cure—meaningful apologies. Then use the delete button.
If we refuse to edit thoughtfully—if we cling to ego over empathy—we deepen division. Instead of being our brother’s keeper, we are his judge. Why be a critic instead of a caretaker?
Succumbing to editing is not a weakness. It is not censorship. It’s refinement. It’s responsibility. It’s good intention made visible through your craft.
The edit is intentional.
And so must we be.
This week’s booklist comes from Tayari Jones. During her insightful book launch with Pearl Cleage, she shared her desert-island author picks.
Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison-Song of Solomon: A young man embarks on a journey through family history and ancestral memory that leads him toward identity, liberation, and a deeper understanding of love and legacy.
How to Carry Water: Selected Poems of Lucille Clifton by Lucille Clifton: This luminous collection gathers decades of Clifton’s spare, powerful poetry, honoring Black womanhood, survival, spirituality, and the quiet endurance of everyday life.
Things I should’ve Told my Daughter by Pearl Cleage: Part memoir and part intimate counsel, Cleage reflects on love, art, activism, and motherhood, offering hard-won wisdom to the next generation of Black women.
Congratulate Tayari Jones on the new release of Kin.
This week I’m highlighting Eagle Eye Bookshop, one of Atlanta’s best bookstores.
Consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea from Eagle Eye Bookshop (they have signed copies) or from one of my partners in the fight, bookstores large and small, who are hanging with me.
Come on, my readers, my beautiful listeners. Let’s keep everyone excited about Fire Sword and Sea.
You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com, under the podcast link in the About tab.
Let’s keep rising and creating together. Please like, subscribe, and share the podcast. And stay connected to Write of Passage.
Thank you for listening. I want you to 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
We here at Regency Reflections wishes each of you a safe and happy 2014. I’m very proud of my colleagues. We’ve got some exciting Regency books releasing this year. New projects to crow about, but I thought today, I’d let you in on a secret, but don’t tell anyone.
Some of our authors are multi-talented.
Naomi Rawlings has her second book coming out, The Wyoming Heir. Since its by Naomi, their must be memorable kisses: The Wyoming Heir:
Given a choice, Luke Hayes wouldn’t ever leave his Wyoming ranch. Yet when his estranged grandfather dies, leaving him everything, he’ll travel to Valley Falls, New York—but only to collect his sister and his inheritance. He won’t be roped into saving a floundering girls’ school, no matter what mathematics teacher Elizabeth Wells says.
Elizabeth has defied social convention and her own family for the sake of her beloved Hayes Academy. Luke is pure rancher, from the tip of his Stetson to the scuff on his boots, yet he’s also becoming her unlikely ally. Only he can help save her job and school…but how much will she lose when the time comes for him to leave?
For more information about Naomi and her novels, visit her website at www.NaomiRawlings.com.
Now, its not a Regency, so don’t tell anyone you learned about it from me.
Laurie Alice Eakes, has her twenty-first, or hundredth book coming out. She writes so many I’ve lost track. The Professor’s Heart:
Mia Roper has what she always wanted
Her independence, her career and her home back East. But when a train wreck strands her in Hillsdale, Michigan, the town she once called home, Mia begins to wonder if she made the right choice to leave Hillsdale—and her true love—behind.
Rescuing injured passengers, Professor Ayden Goswell can’t believe his eyes. Could that really be Mia, the woman who once owned his heart, emerging from the wreckage? Long ago, Mia and Ayden chose their careers over love. But God, it seems, may have other plans for them….
A wreck, a reluctant heroine, what’s not to love, but since it’s not a Regency don’t tell anyone you heard it from me.It’s available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble or CBD.
Ok, I got those secrets off my chest. I feel better, probably won’t need a mustard plaster. There probably will be more books, non-Regencies that my wonderful friends here will be releasing this year: Kristy, Camy, Ruth, etc. That I won’t be telling anyone about :), but I am so proud of the gaggle of authors here, I just couldn’t help spilling the beans.
PS. Tweeting this is not the same as verbally telling.
To step away from my desk, from writing, usually takes intention—an obligation, an appointment, an event.
But this weekend, instead of rushing back to my hotel room to work, I took a walk in the city that never sleeps
.
New York City is magic. The lights and screens can mesmerize for hours. The hustlers are everywhere, each chasing their own dream with a specific kind of determination. I melted into the crowd—a sea of people, heads tilted down, grimaces in place, walking like they’re late to a very important date.
And yet, as I shuffled forward, I walked with purpose. Certain of my own hustle. Certain that, like the waves of moving feet around me, I’m going somewhere important.
Even though these times feel tense and nerve-wracking, this too shall fade. The question is: Who will you be when revival comes?
I suggest you should be out walking. Walking to your own tune. Strolling between memory lane and adventure street.
We can’t let depression and deadlines keep us trapped on a treadmill to nowhere. We need to be out, moving, seeing the sights, meeting the moment head-on.
Downtown New York. Times Square—it’s still vibrant, still electric with people, places, and possibility. One of the places I wandered off to was Broadway. I scraped up pennies and last minute tickets to take in a Broadway Show. My daughter and I caught Gypsy.
Gypsy—the revival—is based on the memoirs of burlesque star Gypsy Rose Lee. Originally adapted by Arthur Laurents, with music by Jule Styne and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, the show first hit Broadway in 1959.
Gypsy follows the struggles of a showbiz mother, Rose, and her two daughters: the sweet, spotlighted June and the awkward Louise. Rose devotes her life to making them stars in a vaudeville world that’s fading fast.
Rose is the ultimate dreamer—the pushiest of mothers, hell-bent on creating success in a season that’s disappearing as quickly as a stripper’s costume.
Gypsy—the cast, the costumes—and especially Audra McDonald—blew us away.
Six-time Tony Award winner, now the most-nominated performer in theater history, Audra stepped into the iconic shoes of Momma Rose—a role made legendary by Ethel Merman, Angela Lansbury, Patti LuPone. And she did it with poise, passion, and a voice that reached the heavens.
For the first time, Rose and her daughters are being played by Black women.
And it feels right.
After all, I grew up with a Mama Rose of my own—down South, with big dreams and high expectations. She had color, attitude, ambition, and love. All of that minus the Gypsy Rose stripping.
And in the legendary Majestic Theatre, we, my daughter and I, took in the chandeliers, the molding, the velvet drapery. The lights dimmed. The orchestra began. And we were swept away—into songs we half-remembered, dances we instinctively tapped to, that wonder that fills you when you let the noise fall away and become part of the show.
This was my daughter first show and she loved every moment.
And sadly, if one doesn’t count off-Broadway shows and church basement productions, this viewing was my first too. I loved it but it’s bittersweet to think of the moments I missed because I chose a different, probably work related path.
And yet I refuse to beat myself up on the Shoulda, would’ve could’ves that befall us. I went with my daughter now. That’s what matters. And as we left we hummed:
Together, Wherever We Go
Wherever we go, whatever we do,
We’re gonna go through it together.
We may not go far, but sure as a star,
Wherever we are, we’re stronger together.
I tweak the lyrics. What can I say, but I’m a writer.
Everything’s Coming Up Roses
I had a dream, a wonderful dream about you.
It’s gonna come true.
They think that we’re through, but…
Nothing’s gonna stop us ‘til we’re through!
Everything’s coming up roses for me and for you!
And now, as I sit on this plane, writing to you, my weekly essay, I hope I’ve passed on something else too.
That it’s okay to take a walk.
That it’s okay to step away from duty, from deadlines, from stress—even just for a few minutes.
That rest and joy are worth chasing just as hard as success.
That it’s okay to fail, as long as we keep dreaming.
My hope is that we all learn to capture that feeling—that joy of being lost in the moment. Of humming. Of strumming our fingers to the rhythm of wonder. Of letting the songs in our soul rise again—when we take care of ourselves.
Even if it’s just with a little walk.
Books that can help you disconnect in meaningful ways are:
Talks about rest as a form of liberation, especially for Black women.
Listen to the album, Sing Happy by Audra McDonald and the NewYork Philharmonic
Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast. This week, I’m highlighting Bookmarks NCthrough their website and Bookshop.org
You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.
Let’s keep resting and rising together—please like, subscribe to stay connected to Write of Passage
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
Vanessa here, writing with tongue in cheek about Regency transportation.
News of the heroine’s abduction has made its way to the hero. With a quick prayer for strength, he yanks on his tailcoat and readies to chase after the villain and reclaim the lass. How will the hero get to his sweetheart in time? It all depends upon the hero’s fortune and location.
I was introduced to Modern Regencies, you know the ones written by after Austen, Heyer and Veryan while in college. Nothing I liked more than to unwind with a witty, Regency with everything on the line in the story after calculus.
One novel, A Proper Marriage by Debbie Raleigh is one of my favorites. I reread it each year, at least once.
What’s not to love about A Proper Marriage. First, the hero and heroine are married, to each other. Not a marriage of convenience (those are great) or gun-induced wedding from a compromise, but an arranged marriage one year in between noted war scholar, Adam Drake and the formerly free-spirit, Adele Morrow.
Here’s Adam explaining to Vicar Humbly, the man who wed the two, the problem:
Adam winced in spite of himself. “No, I made very certain before we wed that she understood I would not tolerate the scandalous behavior of her parents,” he admitted. “I made a precise list of what I expected in my bride. I even chose her wardrobe to ensure she would not be an embarrassment when we arrived in London.”
“And Addy agreed to this list?” he (Humbly) at last demanded in carefully bland tones.
Adam waved a restless hand. “What choice did she have? Her parents had managed to squander their fortune years ago and only survived in the knowledge they would receive a settlement when Addy and I wed.”
“Ah.” The Vicar nodded in a knowing manner. “Well, you should be pleased. Addy has become a most proper lady.”
“Yes, I should be delighted,” Adam agreed grimly.
“But you are not?”
Adam polished off the brandy in a single gulp. He thought of the months with Addy in his home. No, he was not bloody well delighted. No man would be delighted to possess a shadow that slipped from his grasp whenever he reached out to take hold.
“It is not pleasant to live with a woman who is clearly miserable,” he conceded with a pained grimace.
Second a smart but bored heroine:
Here’s Addy dealing with a rake.
Addy reached out to reclaim her fan. “I am sensible enough to know you are a reprehensible rake! If you wish to polish your fatal charms you should choose a more gullible victim.”
“You have it wrong,” he (Barclay, the rake) protested. “I have been felled by your beauty.”
She rolled her eyes heavenward, but before she could take him to task for his foolishness, a sudden shadow fell over her.
A familiar tingle of awareness rushed through her and slowly she turned to confront the glittering gaze of her husband.
Third, real arguments about cross-purposed souls with the richness of history, duty, and commitment that you don’t always find with unmarried couples.
He (Adam) had thoroughly ruined her evening and worse, he had wounded her pride with his blunt confession he did not trust her.
Dash it all. It had been uncomfortable enough living with Adam in a state of polite, frozen courtesy. She might have disliked guarding her every word and being abandoned for hours in this great tomb of a house, but at least she did not have to worry over sudden squabbles and sharp words that seemed to cut her very soul.
Through the vicar’s counseling, Addy and Adam manage to reconcile and even find love, with each other. I adore this book so much, I even cut a trailer for it.
So, if you are looking for a good Regency to curl up with try this old Zebra Regency Romance, A Proper Marriage.
Have you ever felt like the walls were closing in — like doors were shutting and you couldn’t figure out why?
Today’s essay is about that season. The P & P season.
Persecution… and the paranoia that follows.
If you’ve ever wondered whether you deserved the storm you were in, this one is for you.
Persecution is an odd thing.
When everything starts going wrong, I feel myself shrink. I feel extremely small. Then every slight becomes magnified. A look. A tone. An unanswered email. And suddenly we’re dangerously close to the other P word — paranoia.
Your once-hopeful persona begins to fade. You start waiting for the next blow.
As a type A person, an engineer at heart, I look for cause and effect. I try to pinpoint the moment I FAed and FOed. While I search, I double down on hope, prayer, and producing. I can be one productive fool when I feel the walls closing in.
Still, I will lie awake trying to figure out what I did to deserve this.
And for the whole of last year, I couldn’t find the culprit. Did I cross a line? I would like to know. Did I cut somebody? Did I punch somebody really, really hard? Did I steal your chair or your parking space?
No.
I didn’t take anybody’s anything. Nope. I have my own.
In our twisted parasocial world, I will wonder if I liked the wrong posts, which now give you beef.
You can see how the paranoia can ramp. Deep down, I think many of us want to feel like we deserve this punishment. If I earned it, at least there’s logic. At least there’s control.
But the painful lesson I’ve had to grapple with is this:
Other than being overly eager and overly enthusiastic, I didn’t do anything wrong. Persecution is not necessarily earned.
Somewhere in the strange karma of the cosmic universe, you were chosen. And we all want to be chosen, right? But just not like this.
Congratulations, you were chosen to have doors slammed in your face. Sometimes your hand was still on the seal — so you get that extra sting. You were chosen to lose. You were chosen to have your integrity questioned. You were chosen to decide whether you were going to grow up, go high… or sink low. If you’ve contemplated being the villain and getting revenge, put it in the comments.
Now I’ve said before — and if you’ve read Fire Sword and Sea, you know — I believe in something called holy anger. There is a righteous anger. As a woman, I was urged to hold it in. To not sin in my anger. Yet, you can be angry and still be whole.
Nonetheless, that is the struggle. How do we keep ourselves together as we wait for relief?
I won’t pretend I’ve mastered survival. I haven’t. But I can say I didn’t curse anybody out — at least not where it could be recorded. I kept my cool for the most part. And when it came time to fight the battle, I didn’t yell. I let other people stand in the gap. I brought my hurt to those who could counsel me. I found fellowship. I found sisterhood. I saw rapiers lifted to defeat an armada.
I found in real time who was on your team, my crew, and who wasn’t.
My blessed crew found the time to encourage me, and gave me grace to rise above every point of contention. The P&P season, it’s very shocking. It’s hurtful.
When you find you’re in the P&P-season, hold yourself together even when you find traitors in your midst.
Persecution shows you who’s pulling for you. You find out who will show up, and the ones who have your back, even when it costs them something.
It’s priceless the perspective I now have. And let me say this clearly: persecution is momentary. It may feel fresh, but there is an expiration date.
Despite the pain, I am grateful for the experience.
Why?
Because it has made me more appreciative of those who advocate for me. It has made me more discerning about praise and opportunity. It has made me double down on what connects me most to you.
This podcast–I do this podcast every week because it allows me to express what I’m going through — not just as an author, but as a human being. And in putting a voice to thoughts and sharing, I feel closer to you. My books may move you, yes. But when I talk about the shared experiences we are all living through — just in different forms — something deeper happens.
We bond. We may commiserate. And maybe I’ve given voice to shared pain, shared struggle.
When I started writing weekly essays, I was angry at the world. Frankly, I was pissed off. Somewhere along the way, this became therapeutic. I often write about the past. This podcast became a bridge to our shared present. It’s our bridge. And this bridge energizes every facet of my heart and mind.
Every week, I look forward to this space, to sharing a revelation. A story. Something that made me angry. Something that brought me joy. Something that might shift your perspective.
Listen to me. I know some of you are hurting. Some of you are still in the storm. I wish you comfort and safety. When you get close to the other side of through, I want you to see the sunlight breaking through the clouds.
I want you to be amazing.
I want you to have clarity.
I want you to be stronger than before.
If you’re in the middle of the dark season, ask yourself:
1. What are the facts versus your interpretation?
2. What was said?
3. What was done?
4. What evidence do I truly have?
Document everything. Emotion fades. Records protect you.
5. Is this a “you” thing or a “we” thing?
6. Have you conferred with trusted people? Not just those who validate you — those who will challenge you gently.
7. Have I accounted for my own actions or inaction?
8. What is within my control?
You cannot control other people’s actions. You can control:
Your documentation.
Your tone.
Your boundaries.
Your next move.
If you’ve done all these steps and sufficient brooding, stop and rest. Don’t spend another minute trying to figure out someone else’s motivations. It’s at best a waste of time. At worst, it becomes a list of things that keep you angry, that shift someone else’s bad attitude, poor behavior, or evil onto you.
Who cares if the persecutor is motivated by fear, competition, bias, malice, or worse? If the response is from the system, higher-ups, etc., you will not change their minds.
A few more tips:
1. Seek grounded counsel. A mentor. A therapist. A minister. Legal advice if necessary. Someone who will steady you.
2. Protect your mental and strategic position.
3. Don’t react publicly in anger.
4. Don’t overshare emotionally. I’m not saying not sharing your feelings or even asking for help in these social streets. I’m saying leave all the emojis and expletives behind.
5. Don’t isolate.
6. Self-preservation is a strategy.
Direct confrontation doesn’t always work, especially in systemic situations. If a system knows you’ve identified it, it may escalate your demise — and by demise, I mean reputation, perception, and future references.
If persecution is real and systemic, you may need an exit plan.
A graceful exit is not defeat. It’s wisdom.
I will say this with my whole chest. My P-season is over. There are big moves ahead, and I can’t wait to share them with you.
So here we are. On this journey. Some of us are on the other side, some—finding a new normal. Some—waiting for daylight. Some—waiting for a breath with no pain, I see you and wish you love and endurance.
And I am thankful, my listeners.
Thankful for the clarity. Thankful for strength. And grateful that even in persecution, there is an end and a hope for a brighter tomorrow. Just know we are writing the future together.
This week’s booklist includes titles like:
The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah — A moving WWII novel about two sisters resisting oppression and finding courage in impossible circumstances.
The Color Purple by Alice Walker — A classic of oppression and triumph, showing how relationships and community empower a woman to reclaim her life.
The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood — A powerful dystopian story about identity and agency under systemic control.
If I Ruled the World by Amy DuBois Barnett — A sharp, juicy coming-of-power novel about a young Black woman navigating misogynoir, ambition, and authenticity in 1990s New York media and hip-hop while fighting to keep her soul intact.
Set across postwar Germany and the United States, this novel explores abandoned mixed-race children, chosen family, and how love and responsibility can reshape lives history tried to discard.
A sweeping historical novel that exposes pirates, sisterhood, and survival in the chaotic and diverse 17th-century (1600s) Caribbean.
This week I’m again highlighting East City Bookshop, because I forgot to post about them.
Consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea from East City Bookshop or from one of my partners in the fight, bookstores large and small, who are hanging with me.
Come on, my readers, my beautiful listeners. Let’s keep everyone excited about Fire Sword and Sea.
You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com, under the podcast link in the About tab.
Let’s keep rising and creating together. Please like, subscribe, and share the podcast. And stay connected to Write of Passage.
Thank you for listening. I want you to come again. This is Vanessa Riley.
Author Talks presents Vanessa Riley, Fire Sword and Sea: One of the best happening Lit/Bookish Scenes in Atlanta is Author Talks – Music, Crafted Cocktails, Tapas, and Great Conversation about Pirates and Resistance! Don’t miss it.
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
