When I am reading about a heroine lost or frolicking in the woods, I love when an author surrounds me in the sights and the sounds of the wilderness. Yet, nothing can pull me out of this setting quicker than the majestic description of birds or flora… that wasn’t native to Regency England or worse not possible to be in the landscape because of the time of year.
Excuses
But Vanessa, I’m world-building. Yes, that’s nice and freaks of nature do occur, but careless research or non-research is not world-building. Alas, it shouldn’t be.
Nonetheless, Vanessa how would anyone know? A bird’s a bird and the 1800’s was a long time ago. Yes, but there are resources that can help. The best place to start is the Time’s Telescope, a magazine circulated during the Regency.
Time’s Telescope, 1817
From the Time’s Telescope a section called the Naturalist’s Diary details the weather, indigenous plantings, and of course fowls in the air.
September Birds
In Regency England, September begins the transition to autumn and with it a change in vegetation and fowl.
“How sweetly nature strikes the ravished eye Through the fine veil, with which she oft conceals her charms in part, as conscious of decay! September is, generally, accounted the finest and most settled month in the year. The mornings and evenings are cool, but possess a delightful freshness, while the middle of, the day is pleasantly warm and open.” – from the Time’s Telescope
What birds are available during the month of September, well in 1817?
“Partridges (tetrao perdix) are in great plenty at this season of the year: they are chiefly found in temperate climates, but nowhere in such abundance as in England. Partridges pair early in the spring: about the month of May, the female lays from fourteen to eighteen or twenty eggs.”
The Crested Partridge From Wiki-Commons
Partridge are a short-tailed game birds, which are part of the pheasant family. Their feathers are primarily brown in colour.
“The sea- stork’s bill (erodium maritimum), on sandy shores.”
Sea storks are long necked birds, which are part of the crane family. They are typically heavy billed, large weighty birds with long necks and legs.
Sea Storks From Wiki-Commons
“The thrush, the blackbird, and the woodlark, are now conspicuous.”
Part of the Turdidae family, thrush are plump birds that often feed on the ground. The blackbird is a black thrush and if you have five and twenty you can make a pie. The woodlark is a short-tailed bird known for its melodious songs. It frolics in open grounds such as meadows rimmed with trees.
The Woodlark Wiki-CommonsThe Thrush Wiki-Commons
The Blackbird Wiki-Commons
“The chimney or common swallow (hirundo rustica) disappears about the end of September. The congregating flocks of swallows and martins on house tops, but principally upon the towers of churches on our coast, are very beautiful and amusing in this and the succeeding month.”
Swallows and martins are also part of the passerine family. Swallows have fork-tailed feathers and martins have squarer tails.
The Swallow Wiki-CommonsMartins Wiki-Commons
“Many of the small billed birds that feed on insects disappear when the cold weather commences. The throstle, the red-wing, and the fieldfare, which migrated in March, now return; and the ring-ouzel.”
Throstle are part of the Turdidae family. The males are known for their airy melodic songs. Fieldfares are also Turdidaes. They often nest in colonies to protect themselves from predators. The male and female both feed the babies. The babies nest for a fortnight then are turned out. Can you see an author’s metaphor on this bird?
The Throstle Wiki-CommonsThe Fieldfare Wiki-Commons
Red-wing’s are blackbirds. The males are glossy black with bright red and yellow bands on their wings. The females are brown and often mistaken for sparrows. More metaphor ideas.
The Red-wing Blackbird Wiki-Commons
Closing Thoughts
This is a little primer on the birds of September. Nature was a big part of the Regency World, so I know I want to get it right. The Time’s Telescope is a great firsthand account of much more than birds. It’s also a good text on the natural surroundings of England. Many issues of the magazine are available in Google Books. When you read them, just be prepared for its folksy advice.
“All these birds feed upon berries, of which there is a plentiful supply, in our woods, during a great part of their stay. The throstle and the red-wing are delicate eating. ”
Nothing like good eats. I wonder if the author tried them in a pie?
As we head into February, Black History Month, remember that this month is short, intentional, and earned—created because Black contributions were systematically erased from American history. My that sort of sounds familiar. Like what’s happening now. Welp, for my part, I’m making a block list. That’s right for all asking performative questions, those too lazy to Google asking for labor or lists. So, if you show up confused, unprepared, or intentionally obtuse, don’t worry—you won’t be staying for long.
Blocking Season
As we enter Black History Month, I find myself both excited and annoyed.
I actually love this month. I hate that it’s only twenty-eight days—unless we luck into a leap year. February is the month my father was born, which establishes my own Black American cred: Caribbean immigrant roots on one side, and on the other, my mother’s people—Igbo transported, South Carolina born and bred. The family name Riley traces Irish roots, because everyone, at some point, was complicit in colonization and enslavement.
But I digress. That’s not the purpose of this essay.
Black History Month did not simply appear—it was fought for. In 1926, historian Carter G. Woodson established what was then called Negro History Week. His aim was simple and radical: to force a nation that had erased Black contributions from its textbooks and public memory to pause and acknowledge the truth. He deliberately chose February to coincide with the birthdays of Abraham Lincoln (February 12) and Frederick Douglass (February 14), dates many Black communities were already honoring.
It was radical to demand national attention on Black contributions. Woodson understood something America still resists: history does not correct itself, nor does it acknowledge wrongdoing, unless it is confronted.
Eventually, that week became a month. A complicated, necessary space to recognize Black history in America—and across the world.
I remember the irony well: focusing the shortest month of the year on Black history, while the other eleven months continue doing what they always do—centering dominant or majority cultures.
Still, I look forward to it. To revel in Blackness. To listen to our music. To laugh at our inside jokes. To not explain ourselves. To exist without translation.
It’s my history month. It’s actually everyone’s history—but truth deniers don’t have the bandwidth for that.
Which is why I am not doing this thing we do every year.
If you have never thought about reading anything by a Black author before, do not log onto social media and ask those performative, empty questions. I saw one just yesterday: “I want to read about Black people, but I don’t want to read about slavery.”
Here’s the thing: Black authors write about everything—just like everybody else. Romance. Science fiction. High-tech thrillers. Family sagas. Hollywood celebrity culture. I guarantee someone is writing about the Epstein saga as we speak.
What we are not going to do is pretend Google or ChatGPT doesn’t exist.
What we are not going to do is pretend libraries are inaccessible or that librarians are scary.
What we are not going to do is ask for free labor from people you have spent your entire big age ignoring.
If you have gotten this far in life without caring to learn about anyone who doesn’t look like you, stay in your lane. You simply don’t need to know. You lack the empathy gene—and that is information we need to know. In pirate terms, you are the person we watch closely when swords are handed out, because history suggests you’ll stab someone in the back.
So go ahead. Self-identify.
Ignore the culture. Remain blissfully clueless. No cookout invitations were coming anyway. You’ve missed nothing.
But if you wander into my lane with lazy, antagonistic nonsense, I will block you. No explanation. No debate. You will simply find yourself gone.
Let me say this clearly: do not play the few Black people who tolerate you with your performative curiosity. Do not ask questions designed to provoke eye-rolling. Do not demand emotional labor disguised as “learning.”
Frankly, I assume half of these posts are bots engineered to raise my blood pressure. But just in case they aren’t—just in case a real person is typing these things—stay home. Stay in your zone. Keep your sheets on. Dust off the cone hats. We do not need you.
Now, for those of us who are actually curious about culture: we read widely. We write widely. Yes, enslavement is a pervasive story—because colonization is a pervasive story. Across history, there has always been a dominant culture with better weapons and a willingness to exploit others for economic gain.
Notice I did not say white people.
Enslavement is humanity’s recurring sin.
One of the most heartbreaking things I researched for Fire Sword and Sea was learning how French governors in the Caribbean actively stole poor French women from the streets of Paris—enslaving them and selling them as wives or brothel workers.
Is it the same as chattel slavery? No.
Could it be brutal? Absolutely.
Accounts describe women shackled, thrown into the holds of ships, and transported across the ocean. Terror looks the same no matter who you are when you are chained below deck in a dark frigate.
The Mughal Muslim empire enslaved infidels. Spanish, French, British, and Dutch colonizers enslaved Indigenous populations throughout Mexico, South America, and every island in the Caribbean. And in that same era, transatlantic slave trafficking—the most horrific form of generational enslavement—expanded and calcified. Power does what power does.
Which is why books like Fire Sword and Sea matter. Not because they lecture, but because they show the choices, the complicity, the sisterhoods, the brutality, and the strange exhilaration of chaotic worlds that formed the foundations of the one we inhabit now. History is not clean. It is not simple. It exists to teach us how not to repeat our worst selves.
But I cannot make you curious about a world you have decided you don’t want to understand.
That choice is yours.
So once again, as February arrives, do not make it your mission to post inflammatory nonsense. It’s Black History Month. Spare us. Spare me.
Or meet the blocking season.
This week’s booklist are books that center different facets of Black History:
A riveting historical novel about a Black woman passing as white whose marriage sparks a sensational 1920s court case that exposes America’s obsessions with race, class, and identity.
Consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea from The Book Cellar 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.
Enjoying these essays? Go ahead and like this episode, share, and subscribe to Write of Passage so you never miss a moment.”
Thank you for listening. I want you to come again. This is Vanessa Riley.
Upcoming Events:
Coming to a library near you, Feb. 5th at 7:00 P.M. EST
Join us for an unforgettable experience as we chat with Vanessa Riley about her newest book, Fire Sword and Sea, based on the folk story of the female pirate Jacquotte Delahaye. Jacquotte dreams of joining the seafarers and smugglers whose tall-masted ships cluster in the turquoise waters around Tortuga. For twenty years, Jacquotte raids the Caribbean as Jacques, hiding her gender. When her fellow pirates decide to increase their profits by entering the slave trade, Jacquotte must make a change. Thursday, February 5th at 7 PM ET via digital live-stream in partnership with Dougherty County Public Library.
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
Vanessa Riley trying to find peace and missing it.
Nine months away from the release of Fire Sword and Sea, my fourth historical fiction novel, I was using Canva—an online design tool—to create character slides. Each slide was a snapshot of a journey: a woman who rose from enslavement to ship captain, a reimagined heroine defying colonial narratives and gender norms. I hit the “add speaker notes” button, eager to get tips for speaking. I dream big, thinking I’ll be having substantive discussions on my writing and research. And then—Cava flagged me.
Thanks for reading Vanessa Riley’s Write of Passage! This post is public so feel free to share it.
The Canva warning on my character’s slide.
It warned me, that is appears I’m working on a political topic which is not supported.
I paused. Political? This wasn’t a manifesto. I didn’t mention government, war, or even the man in the White House. Just a character arc. A woman doing what men historically claimed as their domain. A woman who had been enslaved, now captain of her own destiny. Was that what triggered the flag?
The slide in question. Yes, I still can’t believe it.
Was it because she was Black? Because she was free? Because she existed at all? At the time of this recording Canva has not responded.
Vanessa Riley’s Write of Passage is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
What Had Happened Was…
There’s a popular phrase in Black vernacular storytelling—“What had happened was…” It’s often said with a chuckle, a smile, a pause before unpacking truth. It’s a doorway to context, a map through what might otherwise get dismissed.
So—what had happened was—I was trying to promote a book.
I wasn’t trying to ignite a movement or start a fire. I just wanted to tell a story that mattered. And the tools I used turned on me. These so-called helpers, these digital platforms that were supposed to amplify my voice, were suddenly filtering it.
It’s easy to say the creator world is dicey right now. We’re all stressed—consumers, readers, artists alike. But we can’t pretend this isn’t something deeper. Truth is under attack. Art is under review. And some of us are being silenced before we even speak.
History Is on the Chopping Block
I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions about why Canva flagged that slide with the magic word enslaved. To me it’s simple and diabolical: history—especially Black history—is being erased. It’s happening now, it’s in real time.
We are witnessing the rollback of truth. Not in some distant dystopia, but here and now.
Books are being banned. Curriculum gutted. The “both sides” rhetoric used to flatten facts into nothingness. Trusted institutions are quiet or complicit. The hunger for moral equivalence is starving out real accountability.
If you think you’re safe, don’t be fooled. They are coming for you, too. Just ask your Grandma or senior friend who can no longer call their social security office, and now must make inconvenient trips to get questions answered.
Art Is—and Always Has Been—Political
From the beginning of time, artists have resisted. Protest art existed long before hashtags and headlines:
* Ancient Egyptians carved critiques into pottery and tombs.
* Michelangelo’s David stood as a symbol of resistance against the de Medici family.
* Picasso’s Guernica screamed against fascism.
* Jean-Michel Basquiat painted the pain of racism and systemic decay on city walls.
Writers too have been on the front lines of protest:
And yet, many of these works were banned, challenged, or ignored until their creators were no longer threats—until they were dead or despaired . We call them legends now, but in their lifetimes, they faced resistance just for telling the truth.
The Risk of Telling Stories in 2025
I’m not comparing myself to these masters. But here’s the truth: you never know how far a writer might go if they weren’t forced to create under duress. What stories never get told because someone’s afraid of losing a contract, a platform, a chance?
As we hurtle toward the release of Fire Sword and Sea in January 2026, I know the stakes. This novel challenges colonial history. It questions gender roles and race. It doesn’t hold back. And yes, that means it may face backlash.
But I owe it to my characters—and the ancestors behind them—to be honest. To be bold. I wish it felt better to be a truth-teller right now. But it doesn’t. It feels risky. Lonely. Like shouting into the wind and hoping the algorithm doesn’t mute you.
Algorithms Are the New Gatekeepers
Back to that Canva flag. Back to the bots.
We like to pretend the internet is neutral. But algorithms aren’t free-thinking. They’re coded by people. People with biases. People with blind spots. People who might think that a Black woman becoming a ship captain is “too political.”
These systems decide what gets seen, what gets buried, and what gets flagged. And in this brave new world, even our tools are weapons of control.
So what do we do?
Honestly—I don’t know. I rely on these tools. I use them to work faster, reach farther. But every time I click “publish,” I wonder: am I aiding my own silencing? Feeding the same beast that’s ready to swallow me?
Still Here. Still Talking.
I have no tidy resolution to offer. But I do have a promise: I’m still here. I’m still writing. Still teaching. Still telling the truth for as long as the bots allow.
Because censorship isn’t always loud. Sometimes it comes as a quiet “warning.” A flagged slide. A ghosted post. A book pulled from shelves.
And sometimes, yes sometimes, protest are simple acts— continuing to paint, dance, and create, continuing to speak, continuing to write, continuing to tell our stories.
Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast. This week, I’m highlighting Fountain 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.
Help fight the bots by hitting like and continuing to share this podcast. You are essential to its growth.
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
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”
Jane Austen
So begins the words to the novel, Pride and Prejudice, and with it the love affair we have for 1800’s England. Now many of us may have been introduced to Jane Austen because of a high school literature assignment or catching a BBC or a Hollywood version of one of her books. I have come to know and appreciate her talents for unlike me, she was a contemporary author writing of her times, of the societal norms and taboos. Austen excelled at capturing the mood of the classes and the roles of women. Her words allow us to visit that time and space we lovingly call the Regency.
So today, I’d like to spend a few moments highlighting the amazing woman, Jane Austen.
Her Birth
Born December 16th, 1775, Jane Austen was the second daughter, the seventh child of eight for Reverend George Austen and Cassandra Austen. They lived in Steventon, Hampshire. They weren’t a rich family at £ 600 per annum. So Jane would find herself very much like her character, Elizabeth Bennett, with nothing more than her charms to recommend her.
Jane’s Father’s Church, Her Home
Her Education
She learned as most girls did at home, to draw, play the piano, and the running of a household. From 1785 to 1786, she and her sister, Cassandra were sent to an aunt in Oxford for more studies. They were later sent to the Abby Boarding School in Reading.
Her Love of a Good Book
By 1801, Jane’s father possessed a large book collection of over 500 books. She is described by family members as a great reader. Her favorites included Fanny Burney’s Cecilia and Camillia and Samuel Richardon’s Sir Charles Grandison, and Maria Edeworth’s Belinda.
In Jane’s Northanger Abby, she puts up a defense of the reading and novels:
“There seems almost a general wish of decrying the capacity and undervaluing the labour of the novelist, and of slighting the performances which have only genius, wit, and taste to recommend them… In short, only some work in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour, are conveyed to the world in the best-chosen language.”
Her Love Life
From her letters, one can see a few men came a courtin’ but she found most wanting: Heartley, Powlett, Lefroy.
In one of her correspondences, she writes:
“Tell Mary that I make over Mr. Heartley and all his estate to her for her sole use and benefit in future, and not only him, but all my other admirers into the bargain wherever she can find them, even the kiss which C. Powlett wanted to give me, as I mean to confine myself in future to Mr. Tom Lefroy, for whom I do not care sixpence. Assure her also, as a last and indisputable proof of Warren’s indifference to me, that he actually drew that gentleman’s picture for me, and delivered it to me without a sigh.”
Then later we find this: “At length the day is come on which I am to flirt my last with Tom Lefroy, and when you receive this it will be over. My tears flow at the melancholy idea.”
And with the end of things with Mr. Lefroy, Jane’s friend (Mrs. Anne Lefroy, cousin to Tom Lefroy) even tried to play match maker. Mrs. Lefroy tried to fix Jane Austen up with the Rev. Samuel Blackall, a Fellow of Emmanuel College. It didn’t work out (See our take on Blackall). Perhaps her joy of writing claimed all her love. Or was she too poor to make a man fall violently in love with her.
Her Writing
Jane started her writing “career” with short stories. These pieces varied from witty to satirical. Many of these short stories were collected together and called the Juvenilia. Over 20 different shorts fill this collection with the most famous being: The Beautiful Cassandra, Love and Friendship, and The History of England.
Her published works (the ones published during her lifetime or posthumously by family members are included below: (S=Synopsis, W=Link to the Whole Work. Go ahead and download a copy provided for free.)
Jane Austen died in 1817 at the age of 41. She began to get ill in 1816 and the yearlong decline, tapped her energy and made her in the end bed-ridden. The cause of her death is disputed. Some venture it was lymphoma. Others Addison’s disease. Another view is she died from bovine tuberculosis contracted by drinking unpasteurized milk. As I check the label, on the milk cartoon for my coffee, I’ll add a final potential cause, typhus, a recurrent form of the disease developed from a childhood illness. Her death left two more manuscripts unfinished, Sanditon (1817) and The Watsons (1804). She is buried at Winchester Cathedral in Winchester, Hampshire.
Winchester Cathedral
Well, I think we should all agree, her life was too short. Nonetheless, judging by the longevity of her work, she may just have accomplished what she was born to do. Share with us a favorite Jane Austen line or scene and why it sticks with you.
References:
Images are from Wikipedia/Wiki commons.
Wikipedia
Project Gutenberg
Pemberly.com
This week we’re giving away a lovely set of Jane Austen note cards.
Win This Prize.
For a chance to win, please leave a comment on any of the posts this week. winner will be drawn Monday, August 12. Winner must have a mailing address within the United States.
Revenge isn’t justice—it’s a dopamine hit with consequences.
We love the fantasy of the lick back: the receipts, the public shaming, the Waiting to Exhale moment.
But what happens after the fire dies out and you’re the one standing in the smoke? This essay asks an uncomfortable question: Is revenge power, or is it professional and spiritual suicide?
Revenge, Regret, and a Lick Back
I saw a viral clip from Oprah’s podcast about the science of revenge, and it mesmerized me. It’s a thought or a topic that I deal with when I write. Pro-tip: Real deep emotions that your characters embody resonate with readers.
But back to Oprah.
A woman in the podcast audience recounts a moment when she lost control. Consumed by suspicion, she triangulated her lover’s whereabouts using technology: combing through his laptop, pulling Uber receipts, matching dates to her calendar, and Googling addresses. The trail led straight to his ex-girlfriend. Proof in hand, she didn’t confront him quietly. She burned his clothes—Waiting to Exhale–style—posted flyers in the neighborhood with his photo stamped CHEATER, and I caught the vibe that maybe there was more she wouldn’t say on television.
The anger was palatable. Right, in the United States, anger is rampant. We have more acts of government-sanctioned brutality and murder. Officials are lying. Some folks seeme outraged. Others are looking away, hoping for a reasonable explanation of murder. While the ones once told to be silent are questioning whether all lives really do matter.
Back to Oprah again.
Oprah responded with compassion and hard-earned wisdom. She admitted she’d had a similar moment in her twenties—and learned that instead of tracking someone down, sometimes the bravest act is to stop, to cool down, to get help, and to reclaim yourself before you do something that costs you far more than it costs them.
Have you ever been there?So angry at how someone wronged you that you feel yourself tipping into something unrecognizable?
I’ve written that moment. In Fire Sword and Sea, Jacquotte experiences a rage so pure and sharp it feels righteous. The pirate crew she serves is a meritocracy: everyone is equal as long as they do their job. But one pirate, eaten alive by jealousy, sabotages battle instructions and leaves the entire crew in mortal danger. I won’t spoil what happens—but terrible things follow.
Jacquotte wants to kill him. Not metaphorically. She wants to drive her rapier through his heart, drag it up to his gullet and down into his gut. Based on what happens, her anger is justified. It’s righteous anger.
And yet—she does nothing.
She has to consider the crew. Her leadership. The sacrifices, she’s already made. The futures she fought for can be destroyed with one wrong move. In choosing restraint, something else breaks inside her. She almost loses her sanity.
Revenge might have felt freeing, but it wouldn’t have solved the problem or undone the harm caused by one ignorant, jealous fool.
James Kimmel Jr., author of The Science of Revenge, tells Oprah that revenge is a core emotion—an addictive one—that drives wars and conflicts. Or, as we say in the neighborhood: you can’t help but want to get your lick back.
But revenge is often also professional suicide.
Even when everything and a court of law is on your side, the world gets very small very fast. When word spreads about your clever act of vengeance, who will really trust you? You’re now the person who “crashed out.” Your stability and dependability are questioned. Team chemistry evaporates like smoke.
I’ve had friends who didn’t care. For ten glorious minutes—right up until security escorted them out—they had their revenge.
Before restraining orders are needed, I think we owe ourselves one hard question:Is it worth burning down your world just to set fire to theirs?
The best villains say yes. But is that you? No? So, I’m advocating to turn the other cheek. Forgive. But I don’t know about that forgetting part. We’re not angels. We’re definitely not Christ. Forgetting that someone harmed you can put you right back in danger. They already stole your trust and your time—things you can’t get back.
Yes, second-chance romances exist. But infidelity is a hard one to forgive, but so is belittling your dreams or gaslighting your pain. Refusing to admit wrongdoing while demanding your faith is wrong. When someone cannot acknowledge harm but insists they have your best interests at heart—that’s not a lesson to learn twice. That’s a situation to run from.
So what is the ultimate revenge?
Physical harm is wrong. Social harm is fleeting. The endorphin rush fades. The pain remains. And now you might also have a criminal record for trespassing. No thank you.
At this stage of my life, I don’t actually want revenge.I want regret.
I want a soul-stirring, chest-tightening, sleepless regret. I want them to know—deeply—that if they had only lived up to the values they preached, things could have been different. I want them to awake at night thinking about what could have been. I want my name to give them pause when it appears in lights.
I wish them regret.
I want people who believed themselves “the good guys”—the ones with liberal minds and Black friends—to reckon with how they’ve become tools of the state, how they uphold castes, patriarchy, and misogyny. I want them to rue how their misguided beliefs failed real people. I want them to remember every little lie, every weak excuse. I want them to sweat under the weight of their regrets.
That is a better revenge than anything my small, angry mind could invent.
No one torments the soul better than one’s own conscience.
So no—I don’t want revenge.
I wish my enemies regret.
What about you? Do you need to get that lick back, or could you be satisfied with your own stellar success?
As for me, in this house, that’s my choice. I’m pounding the pavement. I’m keeping my holy fire alive on the inside. I’m building a life so full—career, family, purpose—that those who discounted us, who cast us aside, who counted us out are stunned into silence. Maybe even repentance.
To get there, I don’t have to destroy anyone. I have to succeed.
I’m not wishing sickness or death or ruin on anybody. I’m wishing for my success to be so brilliant it can’t be ignored—and for the quiet, devastating realization that my hopes and dreams were the ones that got away.
This week’s book list is about revenge:
The Science of Revenge — James Kimmel Jr.A psychological and sociological examination of revenge as an addictive force that fuels conflict, cycles of violence, and self-destruction.
Beloved — Toni MorrisonExplores how unresolved trauma and righteous anger haunt both the wronged and the wrongdoer long after the act itself.
The Count of Monte Cristo — Alexandre DumasA masterclass in revenge as obsession, showing how total victory can still hollow out the soul.
Their Eyes Were Watching God — Zora Neale HurstonA story of choosing self-fulfillment over vengeance, and how living well becomes its own quiet reckoning.
Fire Sword and Sea — Vanessa RileyA meditation on righteous anger and restraint, where leadership demands sacrifice—and revenge costs more than blood. And it’s got pirates.
Consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea from Mahogany Books 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.
Enjoying the essay? Go ahead and like this episode, share, and subscribe to Write of Passage so you never miss a moment.”
Thank you for listening. I want you to come again. This is Vanessa Riley.
Special Event:
On February 5 at 7:00 PM, I’ll be appearing virtually with libraries across the country as part of the Library Speakers Consortium, discussing Fire Sword and Sea.
Check with your local library for access—and please join me. I’d love to see you there.
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
Harriet Tubman, photographed by Harvey Lindsley. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS
I was the conductor of the Underground Railroad for eight years, and I can say what most conductors can’t say — I never ran my train off the track and I never lost a passenger.
-Harriet Tubman, 1896
The Underground Railroad—the resistance to enslavement through escape and flight, through the end of the Civil War—refers to the efforts of enslaved African Americans to gain their freedom by escaping bondage. Wherever slavery existed, there were efforts to escape. At first to maroon communities in remote or rugged terrain on the edge of settled areas and eventually across state and international borders. These acts of self-emancipation labeled slaves as “fugitives,” “escapees,” or “runaways,” but in retrospect “freedom seeker” is a more accurate description. Many freedom seekers began their journey unaided and many completed their self-emancipation without assistance, but each subsequent decade in which slavery was legal in the United States, there was an increase in active efforts to assist escape.
The decision to assist a freedom seeker may have been spontaneous. However, in some places, especially after the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850, the Underground Railroad was deliberate and organized. Despite the illegality of their actions, people of all races, class and genders participated in this widespread form of civil disobedience. Freedom seekers went in many directions – Canada, Mexico, Spanish Florida, Indian territory, the West, Caribbean islands and Europe.
A set of cards created by H.L. (Henry Louis) Stephens of working in the field to reaching freedom. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS/H.L. STEPHENSA United States map showing the differing routes that freedom seekers would take to reach freedom. NPS
Wherever there were enslaved African Americans, there were people eager to escape. There was slavery in all original thirteen colonies, in Spanish California, Louisiana, and Florida; Central and South America; and on all of the Caribbean islands until the Haitian Revolution (1791-1804) and British abolition of slavery (1834).
The Underground Railroad started at the place of enslavement. The routes followed natural and man-made modes of transportation – rivers, canals, bays, the Atlantic Coast, ferries and river crossings, road and trails. Locations close to ports, free territories and international boundaries prompted many escapes. As research continues, new routes are discovered and will be represented on the map.
Using ingenuity, freedom seekers drew on courage and intelligence to concoct disguises, forgeries and other strategies. Slave catchers and enslavers watched for runaways on the expected routes of escape and used the stimulus of advertised rewards to encourage public complicity in apprehension. Help came from diverse groups: enslaved and free blacks, American Indians, and people of different religious and ethnic groups.
Maritime industry was an important source for spreading information, in addition to offering employment and transportation. The Pacific West Coast and possibly Alaska became destinations because of ties to the whaling industry. Military service was an additional option; thousands of African Americans joined from the Colonial Era to the Civil War to gain their freedom. During the Civil War, many freedom seekers sought protection and liberty by escaping to the lines of the Union army.
A mural of the 54th Massachusetts regiment photographed by Carol M. Highsmith. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS/ CAROL M. HIGHSMITH
I’m still in high cotton (Southern Phrase for High Ropes) and very tired after last week’s conference bonanza. I was privileged to attend the national conference for Romance Writers of America (RWA) and the conference of one its specialty chapters, the Beau Monde.
Beau Monde Pin
The Beau Monde chapter focuses on all things Regency. It was started in 1993 and attracts members worldwide. This year in lovely sweltering Atlanta the conference kicked off on Tuesday, July 16 (bag stuffing with tons of swag goodies) and then held a series of workshops on Wednesday, July 17.
I am always impressed by the caliber of the knowledge of the classes and these were no exception. From the Grand Tour with Regina Scott, Military History with Susanna Fraser, The Underworld with Erica Monroe, Playing Whist, and Regency Dancing, and so much more, I well pleased.
Amy Pfaff, Candace Hern, Vanessa Riley enjoying a session.
I bought the conference recordings. This much knowledge has to be replayed over and over again.
Now, I made a promise and a competition with my readers to choose the pattern and style of the Regency ball gown I would make for this conference. Begrudgingly, I stuck with it. I was able to finish it with a few hours to spare. Thank you for not choosing the harder pattern.
Before you ask: I used a sewing machine, I’m a Regency Chick not a masochist. While I did not use a zipper, a twentieth century tool may have been involved in closing the gown (Velcro – think lots of tiny hooks).
Vanessa’s Finished Ball Gown of Grey Silk Taffeta
I have a lot of images and video of Regency dancing at the Soiree that I’m still sorting through but I thought I’d leave you with some images of the conference:
Laurie Alice Eakes in a burgundy and floral ball gown. We went to our book signings in these dresses.
Kristi Hunter and I enjoying the music. Thanks for making me dance.
The professional Regency Dancers getting ready to teach the steps to the dances. Do they know what they are in for?
More Beau Monde Beauties
Ella Quin, one of the fabulous conference organizers.
Erica Monroe and I took a turn about the hotel. Onlookers called us princesses. Didn’t have the heart to correct the titles. 🙂
The dancing was quite strenuous and moved quickly. How did they have time to talk? How were they not winded?
I went to the Beau Monde and left with sore limbs and a bunch of new friends. Oh, and my dignity. The dress looked perfect and held together.
Be blessed.
Vanessa Riley is the author of Madeline’s Protector.
If all young men leapt off a cliff, Madeline St. James wouldn’t care. Yet a chance meeting and a bullet wound change everything. She must trust that the Good Shepherd has led her to marry a dashing stranger, Lord Devonshire. Can they forge a true bond before the next disaster strikes? See the trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N2OnXfFNwps – See more at: http://www.christianregency.com
There comes a moment when the noise fades, the dust settles, and you look around and realize: this is a losing season. The signs are everywhere—opportunities dried up, allies silent or absent, and the very ground that once felt firm beneath your feet feels like it’s shifting. You blink and think, how did I get here?
Vanessa – Out of Coffee
I move through the world on a mission. It’s loud and clear in my heart: I’m here to tell stories that center encouragement and empowerment—especially for Black women. It’s personal. I am a Black woman. And being one raised at the crossroads of cultures—Caribbean roots, the Southern Baptist South, Irish threads in my lineage—I bring a perspective that’s richly textured. I’m a history and STEM girly, someone who gets giddy over tech and deeply moved by stories of women surviving and thriving from the 1300s to WWII. I love the research, the smells, the taste of a scene, the sound of a woman’s laughter echoing through centuries. And yet, in the middle of building, writing, pitching, and praying, I look up and realize I’m in a losing season.
The world right now is showing its cards. Political chaos runs rampant. Corporate agendas have eaten integrity for breakfast. The pressure to tell “acceptable history” rather than true history is real—and exhausting. The DEI moment has slipped into quotas and checkboxes, and alleged allies are revealing their true motivations. Let me be real: some folks were only in the room for the optics.
When someone shows you who they are, believe them.When a door closes, let it remain closed.If the house is on fire, get out and let it burn.
That’s not bitterness. That’s wisdom earned through fiery flames.
As a woman of faith, I know that even the losing seasons have purpose. There are times I ignored the signs and lost, getting smacked with fallout. And there are times I listened—and for a moment blessings flowed like a river. Then the river ran dry.
It’s not always going to be a winning season. Sometimes, you lose. Sometimes, life kicks you in the teeth. And when it does, you have to ask yourself: now what?
What Do You Do When You’re in a Losing Season?
You grieve. You breathe. You pray.
You let the rain come.
Ecclesiastes 3:4 reminds us: There’s a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.Nobody wants the weeping season. No one welcomes the mourning. But the rain is necessary—it releases what’s buried, nourishes what’s growing, and reminds us, we are alive.
Find Ways to Retain Joy – Vanessa with her 26th book taking Car Selfies.
Losing hurts. It hurts to see people you trusted only stand beside you when it’s trendy. It hurts to watch monuments scrub away Black contributions from the record, as if the Underground Railroad, War heroes erased from Arlington National Cemetery because of their sex or color or skin, and the countless other dark hands that built this country are inconveniences to a prettier story.
Let me be clear: this is all American history—Italian migrations, Haitians battling English troops for our freedom. All the Black, Brown, and White stories woven together belongs to all of us. Yet the only narratives being preserved are the ones that make people comfortable. The rest? We’re told to erase, edit, or hide them. And if you’re someone like me, someone who insists on telling the truth with love and power, you can find yourself cast out, put into a rough season where nothing sticks.
But even here—especially here—there’s still something to do. You regroup.
Hope and Regrouping
Losing doesn’t mean you stop. Losing is a pause. A reroute. A holy moment to reset.
Stop chasing folks who never believed in you.Stop shrinking your truth to make others feel taller.You remember your mission.
Yes, it’s a lonely road when only 6% of the room looks like you. Yes, like-minded folks are rare, and genuine support can feel even rarer. But they are out there. I know that because I have readers and listeners who hear me—who see me. That means the world.
And so, we regroup with intention.
We protect our joy.We sharpen our gifts.We build anyway.
We prepare for the next season by shedding the expectations that no longer serve us. We speak truth—the whole truth—because the stories we tell now will shape the world we’re leaving behind.
I don’t pretend to have it all figured out. I just know the losing season doesn’t get the final word. The bumps and the lows on my path are birthing clarity. Resilience is being shaped, and I fall back on my faith and it brings me out of darkness to the sunshine.
Vanessa Riley’s Write of Passage is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
And when the rain stops, and the mourning shifts, we will dance again.
A multigenerational epic that explores identity, belonging, and the burden and beauty of legacy.
Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast. This week, I’m highlighting Baldwin and Company through Bookshop.org. You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.
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
Betrayal leaves no visible wound, only a hardened place in the heart—scanned, protected, and difficult to penetrate. The question becomes, do we want to heal, or can we linger in hate and fire?
Betrayal is one of the most disorienting experiences a person can endure. It does not arrive all at once; it sweeps through you in stages, much like grief. First comes shock, then self-doubt. Was I naïve? Was I fooled? Were there signs I ignored because I wanted to believe? You replay conversations, gestures, moments of connection, wondering which parts were real and which were carefully constructed illusions. There is a particular cruelty in realizing you were allowed—invited—into a false sense of security.
What makes betrayal hurt the most is not just the deception, but the bond you believed you shared. Often, trust is built. Often values are mirrored: bonding on marginalization, feminism, activism, or other deeply held beliefs. You thought we saw the world the same way.
And with this bond, one can say, I’m not alone, not alone in the mission, not alone in the place and time. Basically, I’m not alone or lonely anymore.
Finding a like-minded person can feel like hope in an isolating world. And when that bond proves false, it shakes more than the relationship—it shakes your foundation, your sense of reality. You begin to question everything. What was authentic? What was performative? And inevitably, the most haunting question surfaces: If I can be misled, how do I trust again?
This question lives at the heart of Fire Sword and Sea. Jacquotte Delahaye wrestles with trust at every stage of her life. As a cook in a tavern, she must decide who entering the building is safe, and who is not.
When Jacquotte becomes a pirate, she’s surrounded by a crew whose survival depends on loyalty; that question becomes life-or-death. In love, it becomes even more perilous: who deserves her heart, and who should she flee from? We all recognize the trope of the “bad boy, bad girl”—and even then, there’s an understanding of risk.
Hoping to expand our happiness, and unfortunately, to our detriment, we try. Then we fail, and every reason that seemed right masked all those wrong reasons.
In Jacquotte’s story, betrayal cuts sharply when it comes from a friend, someone she would die for. The wound left behind is unforgettable. Her heart leans to be more guarded. As readers follow her journey, I wish for them to reflect on their own lives: and asking the tough questions:
Where are they most vulnerable?
Where does trust feel most fragile?
How do they respond when someone they love or admire proves to be painfully human—or worse, willfully harmful?
Recovery from betrayal is difficult, especially when it comes from someone you love. It hurts down deep when your admiration was for naught.
Yet living with a grudge is harder. Holding on to ill will and being unable to forgive is terrible. These conditions are like living behind armor so heavy it prevents connection altogether. No one wants to become the person who’s constantly looking over their shoulder, questioning every kindness, every soft word. And yet, as a member of a marginalized community, I can say that this struggle is familiar. Betrayal is not theoretical; it is lived.
President Reagan famously said, “Trust, but verify,” when referencing his mortal enemies. The word enemy implies intention, while mortal suggests an endgame. Jacquotte survives betrayal.
Mostly.
She carries with her a scar—a hardened scab over part of her heart.
The scab is protective. It’s tender. Difficult to penetrate.
One of the most personal and honest aspects of Jacquotte Delahaye’s character is how she navigates betrayal while balancing mercy, forgiveness, awareness, and pain. She is not idolized. She is real. A crew member betrays her profoundly, and yet she must decide how to move forward, because leadership demands clarity. If you are on her crew, she must be prepared to sacrifice everything for you.
I’m not suggesting anyone make unwise sacrifices for those who’ve harmed them. Some acts are unforgivable.
But we live in a moment that demands deeper conversations about accountability, justice, and grace. There’s a growing urge to harden our hearts—to refuse forgiveness entirely—especially when apologies arrive only after consequences. And yet, we must weigh these decisions carefully, as captains of our own ships.
I do not claim to have the right answers. The Jacquotte I wrote doesn’t. She is flawed. She walks a delicate balance between forgiveness and holy anger.
So I think about Jacquotte. As I went on a release week tour, she was on my heart. She lived an experience that left marks, taught her caution, and forced us to decide who she’d become in the aftermath.
In life, the question is not whether we will be wounded, but when to choose healing—and what parts of ourselves we are willing to risk again.
Explores betrayal among friends and how certain ruptures change lives forever.
Fire Sword and Sea by Vanessa Riley. This is a fast paced saga that illustrates betrayal and community.
These are fictional accounts. We need good fiction to help us escape disappointments to learn to master forgiveness and fire.
This week, I highlight Black Pearl Books. You guys are amazing. Thank you for the hospitality in Austin.
Consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea from Black Pearl Books or from
one of my partners in the fight, bookstores large and small, who are in 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.
Enjoying the essay? Go ahead and like this episode, share, and subscribe to Write of Passage so you never miss a moment.”
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
While I love the ballrooms of London or the estates found in the countryside, I also have a fondness for unusual architecture. I started my debut novel, Madeline’s Protector near one of the greatest engineering feats for England, Shropshire’s Ironbridge. The bridge was built in 1779 and was one of the first bridges made of cast iron.
Source: Wiki Commons
Ironbridge has come to symbolize the start of the Industrial Revolution in England. It is over 100 feet wide and spans the River Severn. During the Regency, the area was heavily mined and filled with iron working operations such as foundries.
The Design
Abraham Darby I mastered the use of sand moulds to pour and set cast iron into strong shapes, which could be used for buildings. His great grandson, Abraham Darby, III continued working with iron and perfected this technique.
Source: Wiki Commons
At twenty-nine years of age, Darby III took the design of the bridge from architect Thomas Farnolls Pritchard and started construction. It took three months to build the bridge. Constructed from over 1736 casting made in a foundry 500 yards away, the bridge weighs over 378 tons.
The Mystery of the Build
No firsthand accounts existed such as diaries or work notes, so it was a mystery, how the bridge was actually constructed. Most assumed the bridge was started on one side, and then built piece by piece to the other side. In 1997, a sketch was discovered showing the bridge under construction, the only drawing of its kind. The sketch showed the bridge being raised from a barge floating in the river and the casts being winched into place.
Source: Wiki Commons
Also, by examining the bridge in detail, they discovered each part was cast to order. They put pieces in place. Measured the gap to the next piece and then adjusted the moulds / casts to fit the sections.
While it was being built, the Ironbridge area was filled with foundries. The smoke of the smelting of the iron made the area dark, like a smoke-spewing setting. Today it’s one of the prettiest and is heavily toured with lots of greenery surrounding the bridge.
One Final Tidbit.
No pictures of the Darbys exist like the other iron-masters of the day because they were Quakers and thought, that such renderings would be vane.
Sources: BBC.co.uk, Ironbridge Gorge Museum, and VisitIronBridge.co.uk
