Food during the Regency period was very different from what a lot of us eat today. If anyone read Ruth’s post on Monday and said, “I totally know how to jugg a pigeon” then they should contact us immediately. There are several Regency authors who would like to talk to you.
In the meantime, we asked our illustrious blog authors to share their worst food memories. We asked them, “What was the worst thing you ever had to eat?”
Naomi Rawlings Ostrich. I was traveling in South America at the time. 🙂
Kristy and her pretty plate of eel
Kristy Cambron
The worst thing I’ve ever had the displeasure of eating? Without question it would have to be eel. My husband and I honeymooned in Cancun, Mexico. I still remember the fabulous food on that trip – except that is, for the “lovely” plate of seafood we received at a gourmet restaurant. (It was plated so beautifully that we actually took a picture of it!) Unfortunately, the majority of the plate included a gray, rubbery, and horrid tasting main course which turned out to be eel. You bet I skipped right to dessert just to drown out the memory of dinner!
Laurie Alice Eakes Horse meat in Europe. I was a guest, so couldn’t turn it down.
Kristi Ann Hunter
Bone marrow. I was at a restaurant in Switzerland on the edge of Lake Geneva. The plate was gorgeous and the food really good, but on the top of the steak were these little disks in the sauce. I thought they might have been mushroom slices or pieces of water chestnut, so I ate one. I nearly gagged. On our way out I checked the menu and sure enough, there was bone marrow listed in the description.
Big animal. Big heart. photo: WikiCommons
Jessica Snell I don’t know about the worst food. Maybe a better question would be, “What’s the weirdest food you’ve ever eaten?” My answer is moose heart. And when it was raw, I was able to stick my entire hand in one of the ventricles – those things are huge!
Ruth Axtell
I like all foods so can’t think of anything off the top of my head that I really gagged at.
Susan Karsten The strangest food I have eaten, and enjoyed, is squid. It is also known by the name calamari. You can get it fried, or served in tomato sauce. I have had both and it was good. I would eat it again in a heartbeat.
Have you ever eaten anything that curled your tastebuds and your toes? Chomped down on anything bizarre or strange? We’d love to hear about it in the comments below!
To the writers, the creatives: if you’re like me, you possess a deep curiosity about humanity and a desire to do good through your work. But creatives—are you struggling? Are deadlines slipping through your fingers? Is the blank page staring back at you, stubborn and bare?
Do you feel alone, like no will ride out to save you?
The truth is no one is coming, because we are all anxious and distracted. It’s hard not to be. Since our last episode, it feels like a million and one things have happened all at once.
I’ve seen creatives grappling with the still-high price of eggs, building skits about boycotts—or debates about debating boycotts—and the resurrection of TikTok sparking discussions about zombie-like timelines.
Time burns.
Writers wrestle with their roles. We try to create worlds, worlds that feel diverse and welcoming while rage-watching unqualified individuals ascend to power due to the privilege of their bank accounts or honestly whiteness or white associations. I’ve seen a spectacle of posts from people with crosses in their bios making rage filled takes on what Jesus would or would not do.
How do we create, keep creating when everything around us is in flux and chaos? I usually have my act together. I plan and execute. This week I’ve let time get away from me. I’ve written and rewritten this very essay a multitude of times. I want to give you fresh mana every time I step to the microphone.
Then unexpectedly, clarity came during a celebration of life for a dear friend’s grandmother.
Watching a montage of Mrs. Dorothy’s life in photos, hearing testimonies of love, and, most poignantly, listening to the words of her longtime best friend moved me deeply. Her bestie described their years of shared laughter, prayer, and adventures—as missions of foolery at bars, late-night Thelma-and-Louise-style escapades, and their unshakable bond.
When the bestie shared a piece of wall art Mrs. Dorothy had made for her, I choked up. Hung in a gilded frame, the red and orange colors radiated joy. I felt the sisterly love and support. The bestie said that everything wasn’t always perfect between them, but they knew that either would ride to hell and back for the other.
At that moment, I knew what I had to write. The question that cut into my soul—are you someone’s ride or die? Are you someone’s safe harbor, their distraction from life’s destructive winds? Or are you a danger in disguise, someone who, by intent or accident, dims their light?
“Vanessa, why so serious?” We are living in serious times. Everything must be purposeful. We need to think before we speak. James 1:19-20, says something like, brothers and sisters, everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because anger does not produce righteousness.”
Why should we do this slow think? It doesn’t feel good. If I just post on social…
No. These social media streets are meaner than ever. And the consequences of a good jab, a quick retort, can have monstrous FAFO reactions. Let me tell you a few short stories to illustrate this.
There was once a phenomenal female painter whose work celebrated women and cultural pride with breathtaking power. At the height of her talent, she was mostly ignored. Society lauded her famous husband as the true genius. She was told to be quiet, to support him, to be lesser. I imagine, she often looked up at the sky and wondered why there wasn’t enough light for two.
There was a humble poet who burned to tell the stories of ordinary people. When she poured her heart into her writing, critics dismissed her. They wanted stories about the elite, not the impoverished. The fire in her soul left no room for compromise, but her enemies sought to bury her work. They succeeded. No one rode to save her. She died impoverished and in obscurity. She closed her eyes knowing her peers had deliberately dimmed her light.
There was once a collector who nurtured others’ prose. She gave so much of herself that her own work was overlooked. After publishing several novels with little acclaim, she gazed at the starry sky and wished there was enough light for her mentees and her too.
Imagine women dying spent of their energy and grace, dismissed, barely acknowledged. Unfortunately for a female creator, these are not anomalies.
Women Who Didn’t Live to See Their Due
Artemisia Gentileschi (1593–1656): An Italian Baroque painter whose powerful depictions of women, such as Judith Slaying Holofernes, were overshadowed by her male contemporaries. Today, she is celebrated as one of the Baroque period’s greatest artists.
Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz (1651–1695): A Mexican nun and writer whose literary works were suppressed by church authorities. Forced to sell her library of collected books, she soon died. Her best known work Reply to Sister Filotea of the Cross is a defense of women’s education. Today, she’s a feminist icon.
Emily Dickinson (1830–1886): The American poet published fewer than a dozen of her nearly 1,800 poems during her lifetime. Today, she’s a legend.
Zora Neale Hurston (1891–1960): A giant of the Harlem Renaissance, Hurston’s work was erased from mainstream consciousness for decades. She died in poverty and was buried in an unmarked grave.
Frida Kahlo (1907–1954): Often overshadowed by her husband, Diego Rivera, Kahlo’s work is now recognized worldwide as a celebration of womanhood and Mexican culture.
There are more—always countless more women who are dismissed and their greatness only acknowledged posthumously. Death and decades of time shouldn’t be prerequisites for a creative to get their due.
Back to my earlier stories, I have some posthumous updates.
The Ignored Artist: Frida KahloAlways in the shadow of her husband, the famed 1920s painter Diego Rivera, Frida’s talents were noted and championed by art-world luminaries like socialite Lupe Marín (Diego’s first wife) and photographer Tina Modotti. Lupe introduced Frida to influential figures in the art world, while Tina captured stunning photographs that catapulted Frida’s reputation. These two women helped elevate Frida’s distinctive style and works, including her 1926 piece, Self-Portrait in a Velvet Dress. Their support was instrumental in promoting her art in Mexico and beyond, eventually earning Frida the global acclaim she deserved.
The Hobbled Writer: Zora Neale HurstonStory two was about the gifted Zora. During her lifetime, Zora was celebrated as a writer of the Harlem Renaissance. However, after the 1940s, her work fell out of favor. She was criticized by contemporaries for not explicitly addressing racism or aligning with the civil rights movement. Her focus was on everyday folk and folklore. This divergence caused the literary elites to push her into obscurity. Shunned and misunderstood, Zora died in poverty in 1960, and yes, buried in an unmarked grave.
Enter burgeoning writer Alice Walker (The Color Purple), who encountered Zora’s Their Eyes Were Watching God in graduate school around the 1970s, a decade after Zora’s death. Profoundly changed by the novel, Alice was shocked that Zora’s legacy had been erased. Determined to restore it, she feverishly researched Zora’s life, eventually writing an essay for Ms. Magazine titled “Looking for Zora.” Alice located Zora’s unmarked grave and purchased a headstone, inscribed with: “Zora Neale Hurston: A Genius of the South.”
The Dismissed Editor: Jessie Redmon FausetJessie (1882–1961) was a vital figure of the Harlem Renaissance, yet her work was undervalued in her lifetime and largely forgotten until the feminist and civil rights movements of the 70s. I recently read an advanced copy of Harlem Rhapsody by Victoria Christopher Murray, which chronicles Jessie’s life. Victoria beautifully highlights how the editor’s dreams were often sacrificed to nurture younger Harlem Renaissance writers like Langston Hughes. Her contributions to literature and her own novels deserve the same spotlight:
* There is Confusion (1924): Examines issues of race and ambition among Black professionals.
* Plum Bun (1928): Explores passing and the complexities of identity, a theme that may have influenced her friend Nella Larsen’s Passing.
* The Chinaberry Tree (1931): Focuses on family dynamics and societal expectations within Black communities.
* Comedy: American Style (1933): A biting critique of internalized racism and the pursuit of whiteness.
Thank you, Victoria, for returning Jessie to our lexicon.
That’s what I love about research and writing. Pen to paper, words forming sentences—we get to take readers back in time and restore women. In Sister Mother Warrior, I rediscovered Marie-Claire Bonheur, the first Empress of Haiti, and Gran Toya, a counselor and African military leader to Emperor Jacques I (Jean-Jacques Dessalines). These two women, connected to the man who liberated Haiti, were crucial to shaping the Haitian Revolution. Within the prose, I built the respect and friendship that developed between these two polar opposites. That’s right opposite can respect and ride for each other.
With fiction based loosely on historical events and people, I ride for the forgotten and amplify sisterly ideals. In A Gamble at Sunset and the forthcoming A Wager at Midnight, I deliberately showcase the Wilcox sisters’ relationship. These Black women are far from perfect. They won’t be painted or captured in a pristine sonnet. They’re messy and passionate. Their ability to listen and not judge is constantly tested, but they will ride at dawn for their sister.
We need that energy now. Listen closely: I’m not interested in performative protests. I don’t want my exhausted sisters lifting a finger for something that’s not well thought out. I refuse to witness the front of a firing line, because the loudest folk dropped away and hid.
Moreover I don’t want to see sisters picking apart another sister or their art for clicks or because they disagree. We’re blessed that Lupe and Tina weren’t judgmental in their love for Frida. Alice didn’t care that Zora wrote differently from her. She didn’t question Zora’s identity or love for her people. Alice stood in the gap and worked to elevate Zora. She returned her to us and bought a headstone to honor a woman, she’d only met in reading the dismissed words of Their Eyes Were Watching God.
What I’m saying is: In these times of turmoil and distress, leave petty differences behind. Ride or die for the freedom, freedom to produce art. Don’t let your sisters die in poverty. Don’t let them leave this earth without tasting the fruit of the seeds they planted. In a world of chaos, be Lupe, Tina, or Alice—or any other writer who restore our ancestors to us.
My dear creatives, ride or die or get out the way.
If you want a deeper dive into some of the books mentioned here’s the list:
One additional resource, the additional essay Alice wrote, “Looking for Zora” is in this collection: Walker, Alice. In Search of Our Mothers’ Gardens: Womanist Prose. San Diego: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1983.
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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
About nine years ago, my husband, military man, went on several trips and took his camera.
He’s a wonderful amateur photographer — the kind who captures dozens and dozens of shots, each one filled with life and beauty… and then does absolutely nothing with them. Hence, the “amateur” part.
But I loved those photos. I was proud of him — of the way he saw the world through his lens. So one day, I picked three of my favorites, had them matted and framed, and was so excited to surprise him. I showed them to him, and he smiled, but somehow, we never found the right place to hang them.
And then, in 2016, our world turned upside down.
Within four months, I lost my mother and my aunt. My husband lost his grandfather, his uncle, and then his father. My mother and his father passed less than thirty days apart. Much of that year is a blur — a fog of grief and exhaustion. I remember canceling conferences, canceling plans, canceling everything.
At the time, I was still indie, and thankfully I didn’t have immediate deadlines. But I’d just signed a contract with Entangled, meaning books would be due the following year. I think having that distant goal — something on the horizon — kept me sane. Kept us sane.
But I never went back to hanging those pictures.
There’s something to be said about starting a project with the best intentions, only to have life — or death — interrupt it. Sometimes it’s loss, sometimes it’s chaos, and sometimes it’s just the price of eggs that knocks us off balance.
But at some point, we have to shake it all off and return to the dream.
We have to forgive ourselves for the delays, for the detours, for the times we needed to rest. Because rest matters. Detours matter. Reflection matters.
If you’re a Type A person like me, it’s hard to stop the world and say, “I’m hurting,” or “I can’t do this right now.” But we owe it to ourselves to take that pause — to grieve, to reflect, to forgive. Forgive the people who hurt us, forgive the ones who didn’t show up when we needed them, and forgive ourselves for stumbling.
And when we’re ready, we have to return. To the old normal. To the unfinished dream.
Today, I did that.
I cleaned the room I’ll forever call Grama’s Room — in honor of my mother — and I finally hung those pictures. After nine years.
And when my husband saw them, when he smiled with that quiet pride, I felt something shift. A bit of healing. A touch of restoration. The simple goodness of completion.
November is the month where many of us sit down to start something new — the next novel, memoir, self-help guide, or story that might bring hope and light to the world.
So, I say this: whatever dream you’ve set aside, whatever picture you’ve been meaning to hang, whatever story you’ve been dreaming of telling — go back to it.
It doesn’t matter how much time has passed. You still have another moment. Don’t waste it.
Look around. Find the dream that’s been waiting patiently for you. Get back to your first love — to the idea that once made you wake up smiling, that kept you up at night thinking, “What if I really could do this?”
Right now, I’m two months away from releasing Fire Sword and Sea. It took two years to write that book — two years of wrestling with story, of getting it right, of honoring the women who risked everything to chase a dream.
It’s brave. It’s daring. It’s a little bit crazy.
But sometimes, you have to be all three.
So I urge you: be a pirate. Command your own ship. Gather your crew. And finish your mission — whatever that may be.
This is Vanessa, giving you permission to forgive yourself, to pick up your sword, and to get going.
Oh — and hang those pictures, too.
This week’s booklist for the writers and the procrastinators:
Atomic Habits by James Clear — A practical guide to breaking bad habits and building consistent routines through tiny, incremental changes that compound into remarkable results.
The War of Art by Steven Pressfield — A powerful manifesto that exposes the internal “Resistance” keeping writers and creators from doing the work and shows how to overcome it with discipline and courage.
Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes — A candid, joyful memoir about how saying “yes” to fear, opportunity, and authenticity transformed the creator of Grey’s Anatomy into a more confident and fulfilled version of herself.
Consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea from Eagle Eye Eye or one of my partners in the fight, bookstore’s large and small who are in this with me.
We are two months away from the January 13th release. Please spread the word and preorder this adventure about Caribbean women pirates of the 1600s. Piracy is legal. It’s their escape, and answer to prayer. Thanks to shipping pirates—I’m out of physical arcs but Fire Sword and Sea is up on Edelweiss and NetGalley. So go get digital review copies.
And remember to get collector cards with your preorder. Then tell me, who’s on your crew?
Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast.
You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.
If you’re part of my crew, hit that like button and join me by subscribing and sharing Write of Passage. Never miss a moment. We need each other to get to the other side of hard together.
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
Veteran Regency writer Regency Regina Scott stopped by to tell us a little about her writing journey, as well as her love for regencies.
Regina’s first published book was The Unflappable Miss Fairchild in 1998, a regency with Zebra Regency Romance. Since then she has published continuously with 18 novels to her credit and four novellas.
In the last couple of years, she has turned to writing regencies with a Christian tone. These have found a home with Love Inspired Historicals. She has four LIH regencies to date. Her latest, The Captain’s Courtship, is out this month. Regina has graciously donated a copy for a lucky reader. For a chance to win it, please leave a comment today.
What drew you to write during the Regency Time Period?
I loved to read growing up, but by the time I reached college, it had been awhile since I’d found a book to truly engage me.Then I stumbled upon Elizabeth Mansfield’s The Phantom Lover at my library.I couldn’t put it down!I’d always wanted to be a writer, but I knew then I wanted to write a book in this wonderful time period called the Regency.I loved that the era had its own language, with an interplay between men and women that was so elegant and witty!Twenty-two stories later, and I still love that period!
2.Tell us what year your book is set in and why you chose that particular time.
The Captain’s Courtshipis actually set before the strict definition of the Regency, in 1805.But that time definitely has the same flavor, whether in clothes or social sensibilities.I chose the year for the Everard Legacy series, of which this is the second book, because the series needed a time that would give rise to a true villain, someone who threatened my characters’ happiness, their faith, and their freedom.Who better than Napoleon and his henchmen?In 1805, England was certain “the Corsican Monster” meant to invade at any moment, and he was certainly trying to comply!
3.Who is your favorite Regency Author?
I couldn’t possibly list just one!Elizabeth Mansfield is probably my all-time favorite, as I mentioned.Love Inspired is publishing a number of wonderful authors such as Louise M. Gouge (whom I see you had on recently!), Deborah Hale, Mary Moore, and Abby Gaines.I’m really excited that Cheryl Bolen will have a new book out in October.And this blog is blessed with so many talented authors!Those of us who love Regency romances have a lot to look forward to!
4. What is your favorite Regency expression?
I have several: having a nice coze for sitting down and chatting with a good friend, piffle as a sign of disappointment, and here-and-therian, a fellow who won’t commit to anything, who traveled about with no set home or preferred to chase women rather than catch them. See what I mean about a language all its own?
5. What is your favorite Regency setting; e.g., London, country house, small village?
Definitely a small village. I love developing the various characters and the relationships among them. So far, my more recent stories keep getting set in the wildness, though—places like the Lake District and the Peak District. I think perhaps the isolation of a single manor, far from others, allows me to focus on the hero and heroine and how they come to find love. That was certainly the case with The Captain’s Courtship. Though it starts and ends in London, most of the action takes place in the Lake District, when my hero Captain Richard Everard brings the heroine to meet his cousin, who she’s agreed to sponsor for a Season.
Tell us about your book.
The dashing Captain Richard Everard has faced untold dangers at sea. Steering his young cousin through a London season, however, is a truly formidable prospect. The girl needs a sponsor, like lovely widow Lady Claire Winthrop-the woman who jilted Richard years ago. Claire believed herself sensible in marrying a well-to-do viscount rather than a penniless second son. How deeply she regretted it! Now their fortunes are reversed, and Richard’s plan will help settle her debts and secure his inheritance. Yet it may yield something even more precious: a chance to be courted by the captain once more.
When did your novel release and with what publisher?
The Captain’s Courtship will be out in July from Love Inspired Historical.
Tell us about yourself:
I always wanted to be a writer, but it took a while to convince myself that that was what I was meant to do. I tried being a day care provider, a nanny, a technical writer, and a risk communication consultant before I heeded God’s call on my life. Now, I feel so blessed to sit down at my computer and write! The Captain’s Courtship marks my 22nd published story (18 novels and 4 novellas), all set in the Regency period. The Rake’s Redemption, the next book in the Everard Legacy series, will be out in November. You can learn more at my website at www.reginascott.com, where I also have articles about the Regency period. You can also find me online at Goodreads (http://www.goodreads.com/reginascott), and the blog I share with author Marissa Doyle atwww.nineteenteen.blogspot.com.
For a chance to win A Captain’s Courtship by Regina Scott, leave a comment. We will draw a winner on July 31, 2012. Be sure to check back on this comment thread on that date to find out who won.
As a writer, I love giving readers something they didn’t expect. When plotting a murder mystery, I meticulously plant clues, red herrings, and unexpected connections, ensuring readers will turn the pages, eager for what’s next. The writer’s mind is a playground. It’s the world as we know it—the familiar, the structured, and the understood. Readers are conditioned for the norm. But when a writer disrupts the mundane, offering a twist, it intrigues and refreshes.
We’re curious beings. We crave learning and understanding. We seek order. Flipping gender roles or challenging leadership expectations is a surefire way to shake things up and offer a new perspective.
Last year, I wrote a scene I initially thought was humorous: an 1800s heroine, desperate to become a physician, disguises herself as a man to attend medical lectures. At the time, women were barred from pursuing careers as scientists or physicians, often resorting to extraordinary measures to follow their passions. In the scene, Scarlett, the determined heroine, is on the verge of being discovered. Her nemesis, an immigrant physician named Steven, steps in to save her by pretending she’s his male cousin. This clever ruse spares Scarlett from scandal but forces her to blend in with the men—including accompanying them to a brothel. Turning the tables, Scarlett ends up saving Steven. While he’s incapacitated during a narcoleptic episode, she kisses him, adding what I thought was a layer of comedic drama to the brothel scene.
Here’s the rub: that kiss happened without his consent. He was barely conscious. It doesn’t matter if it was funny, if readers were in on the joke, or if it showcased her autonomy. By giving her this power, I stripped his from him.
That moment had to change. I deleted the kiss. The scene in A Wager at Midnight is still funny, still scandalous, but it’s respectful. Some may say, “Vanessa, lighten up—it’s humor! And don’t we need more joy in the world?” All true. But here’s a greater truth: consent is not a double standard. It’s a rule. It’s a right. Everyone’s “no” should carry the same weight we modern women demand for ourselves.
The ability to say no is sacred. To paraphrase Matthew 5:37, “All you need to say is Yes or No; anything beyond this comes from the devil.”
Many of you might be nodding in agreement. Yet this week reminds us that some people still struggle with a woman’s no—especially when that woman is Black.
This week, a spokesman for the office of Barack and Michelle Obama announced that Mrs. Obama would not attend the 2025 inauguration. Unlike her absence from President Carter’s funeral, which was attributed to a scheduling conflict, this was a clear, definitive, unexplained no.
Reactions have been predictable. Some applaud her for setting boundaries, acknowledging the toll of public life and the personal risks she and her family have endured. Others clutch their pearls, lamenting political norms—those quaint phrases that, bless their hearts, weren’t universally applied when it mattered most.
Meanwhile, my people—oh, you know who you are—created a delicious meme that summed it all up: If I send you Michelle’s picture, I’m not coming.
From: @jennmjacksonphd
These memes reminded me of the ones sparked by Anita Baker when her concert, scheduled to start at 7 p.m. on May 11, 2024, at State Farm Arena in Atlanta, was canceled at 6:54 p.m. due to “unforeseen circumstances.”
@sweet.alpha.lady from TikTok
I’ll admit, these memes are funny. But looking at the popularity of these memes reveals something sobering: Are women the only ones who cancel? Why aren’t there memes like these for men who say no? Do they not have the agency to do so?
Of course, that’s sarcasm—because men cancel all the time. They just aren’t mocked as much.
Chris Rock, for instance, canceled hosting the 2022 Governor’s Award after his infamous Oscar slap. If humor is fair game, where’s the meme with his picture saying, “Naw. Sorry I can’t be there. Still recovering from saying the wrong thing.”
Or take James Franco, who “mentally didn’t show up” to co-host the 2011 Oscars. Sure, he was physically present, but he failed to fulfill his duties. Anne Hathaway, the other co-host, had to carry the night. A woman having to pick up the slack? That sounds familiar—and is definitely meme-worthy.
Nonetheless, people have a right to cancel, just as they have a right to say no. That includes celebrities. Saying no should be a human right. But for that to hold true, society must first recognize the humanity and autonomy of every person who withdraws their consent.
Historically, women have struggled with autonomy and consent. For much of US history, women were required to live under the authority of a father, husband, or male guardian. It wasn’t until 1974 that women were allowed to obtain credit cards in their own name. Equal pay legislation dates back only to the 1960s. The societal acknowledgment of a woman’s right to make her way in the world is lacking. It’s hard to understand that a woman’s ability to work for fair wages and to decide her own path is merely sixty-five years old. That’s not that old. It’s barely able to get social security.
Alas, the history is bleaker for Black women. For us, the ability to say no to the most egregious violations was often denied. Our consent was stolen by laws, society, and systems meant to promote and protect others.
A Timeline of Black Women and the Right to Say No
1662: Virginia Hereditary Slave LawChildren’s status (enslaved or free) followed their mother, stripping Black women of autonomy over their offspring. Sidenote: This came about because Elizabeth Key, born to an enslaved woman and a white Englishman, Thomas Key, legally gained her freedom in 1655 by arguing that she was baptized and freed by her father. The 1662 law was enacted to ensure such cases could never happen again.
1705: Virginia Slave CodesThese codes reduced enslaved people to property. This codifies sexual violence against all enslaved but particularly Black women.
1786: Tignon Laws (Louisiana)Black women were forced to cover their hair in public, erasing their self-expression and identity.
1857: Dred Scott v. SandfordThis decision denied Black people citizenship. This reaffirms that Black men and women are without legal rights to refuse exploitation or violence, nationwide.
1865–1866: Black CodesRestrictive laws curtailed freedwomen’s mobility and punished those who refused exploitative labor with vagrancy charges.
1927: Buck v. BellThis Supreme Court decision upheld forced sterilization laws targeting Black women under eugenics programs.
1944: The Rape Case of Recy TaylorRecy Taylor identified her six white attackers, but they were never brought to justice. Alabama apologized only in 2011.
1980s: Workplace Dress CodesBans on natural hairstyles like braids and afros forced Black women to conform to Eurocentric beauty standards.
1994: Violence Against Women Act (VAWA)While a step forward, this legislation didn’t fully address the unique barriers Black women face in seeking protection such as underreporting, racial profiling, mistrust in authority, and Access to Culturally Competent Services.
Of course there are some wins.
1967: Loving v. VirginiaThis landmark case struck down laws eliminating restrictions on who women could marry.
1973: Relf v. WeinbergerThis case exposed federally funded forced sterilizations of Black women, helping to end the practice.
2019–Present: The CROWN ActThis legislation prohibits discrimination based on natural hairstyles, affirming Black women’s autonomy over their appearance.
So, parity with others—being legally able to say yes to bodily autonomy and hairstyles—is less than a decade old for Black women. That should horrify you.
As a Black woman and a lover of history, I’m often told to forgive and forget—and there’s a heavy emphasis on forgiveness and a whole lot of forgetting. That notion is anathema to my soul. My lungs struggle to seize air under the weight of ongoing restrictions. There are new laws stripping away hard-fought rights. Fear and foolishness is trying to make hard-won victories DEI casualties. It’s book bans, whitewashed textbooks, tone policing, and countless microaggressions designed to smother.
Breathe.
Hear my heart: autonomy for me doesn’t mean taking from you. Equality for one group doesn’t mean making any other lesser. Checking on my sista doesn’t mean I wish ill on others—or the misters. We all gain when everyone’s yes and no are respected.
Writers, readers, citizens, hear me. Let us be wise with our words, speaking peace into existence. Let us remember and listen. Let us accept that no is a complete sentence, without the need for adjectives or explanations.
In times such as these when injustice still reigns, people have the right to step back, breathe, and find their peace.
Writers, I encourage you to take a more critical eye to your work. Let’s not ignore the forces trying to strip away consent—through laws, norms, even memes disguised as humor. We wield power with our words, and we should all consent to building up and renewing everyone who reads them.
If you want a deeper dive into the intersectionality of it all, as a book girly I have some recommendations for you:
Women, Race & Class by Angela Y. Davis explores the historical struggles of women, especially Black women, to claim autonomy and say no to oppression.
They Were Her Property by Stephanie E. Jones-Rogers, examines the role of white women in the American slave economy and highlights the systemic oppression of Black women.
Take My Hand by Dolen Perkins-Valdez, provides important connections between her novel and the case of Relf v. Weinberger and forced sterilizations.
Subscribe for free. Get Vanessa’s take on publishing, challenges, and opportunities, drawing from her journey as an indie author turned traditionally published powerhouse: 25 novels and counting.
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
When I was about to be married, the women of my church threw me a shower, at which each of them gave me a favorite recipe to put in a cookbook for our new home. And though I still use Marion’s directions for teriyaki chicken, and though Sandy’s roasted veggies are still a favorite at our house, the real treasure in that cookbook isn’t the recipes. It’s the marriage advice each woman wrote down alongside her recipe.
Since this June has been all about marriage here at Regency Reflections, I thought I’d pass on the best of that advice – the advice that’s proved the most true in this first decade of my marriage. And since it comes from a woman who’s currently in the middle of her fourth decade of marriage – my mom, Betsy Barber – you can trust that it has more wisdom than anything I could come up with out of my short experience.
So, here they are, the words I see every time I turn to my mother’s recipe for the perfect pie crust:
For those of you who haven’t had thirty years practice interpreting my mom’s handwriting, here’s what it says:
1. Constant prayer
2. Frequent, joyful sex
3. Regular time spent together
4. Continual forgiveness, continual repentance.
5. Conscious support of his career and hobbies
6. Encourage 10X more often than any critique.
And there at the bottom, added in after the original composition, is my favorite part: “Remember – if it’s good for Adam, it is good for you.”
That’s the part that I hadn’t read anywhere else in my marriage prep, and it’s the part I still wish more people talked about when they talk to married couples: since you’re one flesh, what’s good for one of you – what builds one up, what encourages one, what heartens one – benefits the other. Anything that helps my husband helps me. If something makes him a better Christian, if anything gives him joy, if anything delights his heart, it’s to my benefit that he has it, because it means I’ll be married to a better, happier, godlier man.
And the same is true the other way around. If something encourages me, if something builds me up, it’s to Adam’s benefit to see that I get it, because then he enjoys a marriage to a happier, healthier, godlier wife.
I could go on about the other points on that list, but this blog entry is supposed to be kept at a reasonable length. Suffice it to say: all the points on that list are good . . . especially the second one. 😉
An image. A photograph. Sometimes we take them for granted. We snap our phones so quickly, only to scroll through them for social posts or store them for infinity in clouds.
Does anyone remember having to take a roll of film out of a camera with care—rolling it up, taking it to be developed? Anyone remember what it felt like to wait to pick up the prints? Now we have so many at our fingertips that many of these images will never be opened again.
Technology has advanced, and we all walk around with a digital lens to analyze the world. Everyone can capture history or life with a click. And especially in our constantly moving 24-hour news cycle, images can start to lose their meaning. Of course, we begin to feel their value again when something like—oh, I don’t know—authoritarianism creeps in and tries to keep us from seeing things and asking questions.
Pictures are meant to help us save our moments. I saw one this week, that I can’t get out of my head. It’s not traumatic; it’s not painful. It’s lovely, very heartwarming. It’s of a ballerina and a dancer turned choreographer and teacher.
On October 22, 2025, Misty Copeland took her final bow with the American Ballet Theatre in New York. Misty came on stage for applause, and Debbie Allen—the icon—embraced her.
The moment stopped me. To see a legend embracing another legend—it’s powerful. It’s the kind of image that reminds you what legacy looks like. It says: You’ve finished this part of your journey, and the next part will be even better. You’ll touch more people, like I have. And you can also take a moment to rest and enjoy what you’ve accomplished. You can feel that warmth, that love, that encouragement radiating through the hug.
And honestly, in these times—when the government has shut down, when benefits are threatened, when healthcare costs could skyrocket, and so many people are drowning in anxiety—that kind of reassurance, that quiet “I’ve been there, and you’re going to be all right,” means the world.
This week, I went to the 21st Cavalcade in Chicago, hosted by my dear friend, author Lissa Woodson. It was a reunion of sorts—people who were there at the very beginning of my writing journey came, as well as many new faces just starting theirs. It was a good time full of hugs and laughs. Dear author buddy and Fun Friday Girl, Pat Simmons, arrived and brought even more fun. I snapped a selfie of us.
Panya, one of my dear friends from college, came, and we shared dinner, more laughter, and stories about our children, husbands, and our global lives. Every small moment is to be savored and captured—not only on phones but in our hearts and minds. And I had the waiter snap a photo of us.
A big part of the Cavalcade is being at the convention center and interfacing with the public. All of us, regardless of the stage of our careers—indie, hybrid, or traditional—we all hustled. We all tried to get someone to listen and maybe make a sale.
Oh, the memories this brings back.
And I hope the new authors there felt welcomed and hugged upon. I want them to know: Hey, it may be rocky right now, but it’s going to be all right.
And let me just say this: Author MarZé Scott gives the best hugs known to humankind. I’m convinced she’s secretly a chiropractor because she hugs you just right. You don’t just feel safe—you feel loved, deeply loved, and spine-straightened—even if you’ve only just met. That’s a rare gift: to be medicinal, maternal, and downright cool. I hope she knows how special it is to receive her hug and the impression she leaves with everyone she embraces.
Lissa snapped our picture. I’m grateful for each picture, each moment captured now and forever. These stills remind me of the love, the connection, the humanity we share. We’re moving into the holiday season—Thanksgiving’s on the horizon. It’s time to donate hugs—give to food pantries, check in on people who might be lonely or forgotten. Share your time. Everyone’s going through something. And this season, we need to be a little kinder, a little more forgiving.
That’s the power of a hug. It wrings out the bitterness from the soul and leaves space for goodness.
Now, I’ve added to my phone those pictures of Debbie Allen and Misty Copeland hugging. I even went scrolling to see if Debbie hugged Shonda Rhimes—I’m pretty sure they did offstage at their recent Atlanta/Dekalb meet-up to celebrate The Year of Yes. If not for the Cavalcade, I would’ve been at Shonda’s tour stop.
My Year of Yes was 2019, which began my journey into writing historical fiction—finally taking the stories I’d grown up hearing or stumbled upon in research and actually writing them. Before my Year of Yes, I’d been told by agents and editors that there was no interest in historical novels that singularly focused on Black women—particularly of Caribbean descent—as the heroes of their own lives. I’m very proud to have birthed three such novels into the world (Island Queen, Sister Mother Warrior, Queen of Exiles) and to be about to birth a fourth: Fire Sword and Sea, coming January 13, 2026.
Yet, as I look out at the world, I think we need more hugs—more soft places to land—as the landscape keeps shifting and going backward, where the needle of what’s important or print-worthy is dictated by algorithms and viral images on social media.
So in this season, when patience runs thin, when anxiety is high and irritation is always just around the corner—find those huggers. Let them give you a good embrace. Let it cleanse your soul a little. And as always, hug your writer friends. Let them know that there is more good road ahead for their feet—and their keyboards—to follow.
Today List of books is for the huggers:
Year of Yes: 10th Anniversary Edition by Shonda Rhimes — In this expanded edition, the bestselling TV-creator reflects on how saying “yes” changed her life and invites readers to step into their own.
Stop in the Name of Loveby Naleighna Kai and U.M. Hiram — An emotionally charged romance where passion collides with faith, family, and hard choices that test both heart and conscience.
King Of South Shoreby MarZé Scott — A secretive millionaire real-estate mogul’s romance could end before things really get started.
Dancing in the Wings by Debbie Allen is a lovely children’s book that loosely is based on the actress’s own experiences as a young dancer.
Contempt by Pat Simmons — Grandma BB orchestrates a practice funeral for the Jamieson clan, but unexpected surprises and an uninvited guest turn the evening into a lively, unforgettable family gathering.
Consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea from FoxTale or one of my partners in the fight, bookstore’s large and small who are in this with me.
We are less three months away the January 13th release. Please spread the word and preorder this adventure about Caribbean women pirates of the 1600s. Piracy is legal. It’s their escape, and answer to prayer. And remember to get collector cards with your preorder. Then tell me, who’s on your crew?
Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast.
You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.
If you’re on board this ship, hit that like button and subscribe and share Write of Passage. Never miss a moment. We have work to do. And I need You.
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
As a writer, the greatest gift I can offer a reader is the ability to feel. Love, anger, or the powerful sense of being seen—my books come with an implicit promise. I intend to transport you, enlighten you, and to invite you to inhabit someone else’s shoes. You will tread in their footsteps, see through their eyes, and be consumed by their emotions. This is my gift, my bond with my readers.
I truly believe all writers are empaths at heart. That’s why last week was especially hard—a whirlwind of emotions and memories, crashing upon me at the same time.
In Atlanta, a rare snowstorm—an event last seen a decade ago—brought the city to a standstill. At the same time, the world paused to honor President Jimmy Carter, a man synonymous with empathy and kindness. He was my first president, well the first I can actually remember. The plain spoken, proud son of Georgia, gave the world a lifetime of service. His passing like his presidency, brought together people across political divides, reminding us of the compassion that once defined leadership.
On the other coast, in California, a cruel trifecta of fire, wind, and drought ignited devastating wildfires. Over 20,000 acres have burned in the Palisades Fire. You know the names—Malibu, Mandeville Canyon, Brentwood, and the hills of Encino and Tarzana. The Fires in Eaton which includes devasted generational communities of Pasadena and Altadena–have been hit with significant property damage. The Hurst, Kenneth, Archer and Lidia Fires still rage at the time of this recording.
We’ve Seen This All Before
Throughout history, natural disasters have tested human resilience:
* 1556: The Shaanxi Earthquake in China claimed 830,000 lives, the deadliest recorded.
* 1692: The Port Royal Earthquake and tsunami destroyed two-thirds of the “Wickedest City on Earth,” killing over 2,000. Neighboring islands sent organized looters.
* 1815: Mount Tambora erupted in modern-day Indonesia, leading to the “Year Without a Summer” and a global death toll of 80,000–100,000.
* 1900: The Great Galveston Hurricane killed as many as 12,000.
* 1931: The China Flood led to approximately 4 million deaths from drowning, starvation, and disease.
* 1970: Cyclone Bhola in Bangladesh caused over 300,000 deaths.
* 2004: The Indian Ocean Tsunami killed over 230,000 people across 14 countries.
* 2005: Hurricane Katrina left 1,800 dead and caused $161 billion in damages, with long-term displacement of residents.
* 2010: The Haiti Earthquake caused over 222,000 deaths and displaced over 1.3 million people.
* 2011: The Tōhoku Earthquake and Tsunami in Japan triggers the Fukushima nuclear disaster and kills over 19,000 people.
* 2017: Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico caused 2975 deaths and massive infrastructure failures. Puerto Rico was left without power, water, or basic services for months.
* 2017: Hurricane Harvey in Texas wreaked havoc, leaving thousands dead and causing $125 billions in damages.
2024 Hurricane Helene
Hurricane Helene devastated six Southern states from September 24–29, 2024, claiming at least 236 lives. Entire towns in the far inland mountains of North Carolina—Chimney Rock Village, Marshall, and Hot Springs—were essentially washed away by floods.
Helene’s damage was personal. It struck my hometown of Aiken, South Carolina—a small town known for horse racing and Refrigerator Perry of the Chicago Bears. My aunt and cousins were without power for almost a week. The massive oak outside the 5-and-dime store where I had my first job was ripped from the concrete sidewalk by the storm’s ferocious winds. When I visited Aiken in December, two months after the hurricane, the town still bore the scars. Fallen trees littered the landscape, and many roads and houses remained in disrepair.
Miss me with the idea that this is what we deserved. Miss me with the craven spirit that left people frightened and hopeless, thinking no help was coming because this disaster unfolded during a contentious political season.
No place or community is immune to catastrophe. Each disaster brings grief, rebuilding, and, most importantly, a need for solidarity. But are we up to the task? Increasingly, a spirit of division and disdain seems to overshadow the empathy we once showed in times of tragedy. Have we lost our humanity?
Going Back to Cally
Over 180,000 people have been evacuated, and at least 10 lives have been lost in the fires ravaging California. Sadly, that number will likely rise once the flames are contained. But how do we contain the blaze consuming our humanity? Instead of unity, many are quick to condemn, point fingers, or dismiss the devastation as a plight of wealthy Malibu residents or Hollywood elites.
When disaster strikes the rich and famous, cynics are eager to believe they deserved it. But what about places like Chimney Rock or Aiken or other less affluent communities devastated by storms? Did they deserve it? Are you saying the God you believe in has condemned them as well? Tragedy doesn’t discriminate based on wealth, geography, or political allegiance.
Empathy isn’t about whether someone “deserves” to suffer. It’s about recognizing our shared humanity in the face of catastrophe.
Consider this: the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) is funded by taxes from both blue and red states. Blue states, often with liberal politics, contribute the most to federal aid, including FEMA dollars. Meanwhile, red states, more prone to natural disasters, tend to receive more federal funding relative to what they contribute. Could it be that we need each other?
If we let division overshadow compassion, we risk eroding the foundation that binds us as a nation. We are called to love our neighbors as ourselves. But here’s the question: when was the last time you chose to love someone as much as you love yourself?
Subscribe for free. Get Vanessa’s take on publishing, challenges, and opportunities, drawing from her journey as an indie author turned traditionally published powerhouse: 25 novels and counting.
Atlanta’s and Texas’s Snowmageddon
Ten years ago, on January 28, 2014, Atlanta experienced a rare snowstorm—just two-and-a-half inches of snow turned interstates into parking lots. People were stranded for hours, some overnight. Weather advisories had warned of impending danger, but when the morning came with no snow on the ground and no sleet in the air, most assumed the storm had passed.
I remember leaving my house around 9 a.m. for a dental appointment. By 10 a.m., I had clean teeth but could barely drive home. Tragically, 13 people lost their lives. Life can change quickly, as that day reminded us. Eventually, we thawed out and survived being the butt of jokes for months.
Fast forward to 2022, during Winter Storm Uri in Texas. Extreme cold, snow, and power outages swept across the state, taking over 210 lives. While government officials argued and finger-pointed, neighbors stepped up. Families opened their homes, sharing warmth and shelter. I used Instacart to send water to friends who had no running supply.
In both of these “snowmageddons,” a profound truth emerged: empathy surged. People helped people. Compassion triumphed over adversity. These moments remind us of our capacity to care, even in the harshest conditions.
Back to Finger Pointing
The news has already shifted its focus in Los Angeles to looters, sidestepping the stories of everyday people who lost their homes or whose retirement facilities were reduced to ashes. Instead, we see blame placed on budget cuts and political decisions. Meanwhile, the unregulated cesspools of Facebook groups are busy mocking “Hollyweird” and spinning the tragedy into another divisive narrative.
I hope in my heart that for every negative story circulated, there are countless acts of kindness—neighbors helping neighbors, communities checking on the most vulnerable, and strangers opening their homes to those in need.
We still have power in these moments. We can step away from toxic conversations. We can amplify stories of love and solidarity instead of hatred and blame.
The goal isn’t to deepen division but to remind ourselves of what’s at stake. We need to care for one another, not because of where we live but because we all share this human experience.
It is possible—to mourn together, to heal together, and to rebuild together. If we can’t, can we at least choose silence—do the quiet “thoughts and prayers” thing we do when there’s a mass shooting?
What Should We Do?
If we choose to mourn and heal together, we must:
* Speak with empathy.
* Listen actively.
* Offer comfort to those in need.
As Proverbs 16:24 reminds us, “Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body.” Listening is helping. Platitudes are cheap. Empathy heals.
What Books Can We Read
As a book girly, I’ll make some recommendations:
* A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis: A deeply personal account of loss and healing.
On January 9, 2025, President Carter’s casket was welcomed at the snow-capped National Cathedral, a grand limestone church with arches, ribbed vaults, flying buttresses, and over 200 stained-glass windows, including one containing a moon rock from Apollo 11.
The Rt. Rev. Mariann Budde presided as Carter’s casket was ushered into the cathedral, observed by dignitaries and all living presidents. Her words echoed: “Let us also pray for all who mourn, that they may cast their care on God and know the consolation of his love.”
Later that day, the same casket would find its way into the humble pine wood church, Maranatha Baptist, in Plains, Georgia. There, a simpler service with familiar faces—friends and neighbors Carter had known all his life—would gather to say goodbye.
In both services, one grand and the other modest, there will likely be a shared refrain: Jimmy Carter’s faith mirrored American ideals, particularly the belief that “we are all created equal in the image of God.”
We are all created equally. We face suffering equally. Whether the wind howls, the rain menaces, the earth quakes, or fires rage, destruction and loneliness do not discriminate. To move closer to a more perfect union, we must embrace empathy. It is my hope that in places as different as rich limestone cathedrals and honest pinewood chapels, empathy and humanity can coexist.
I challenge all writers to help restore empathy in the world.
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
Everyone screws up occasionally. The epicness of your less than perfect moment can often be tied to the significance and size of the event at which it occurs. Stepping on your hairbrush and wiping out in your bathroom can be excessively painful, but the embarrassment factor is rather low. Tumbling down the ramp at your high school graduation can haunt you for the rest of your life, leading the highlight reel at every class reunion.
Photo via Wiki Commons
Kristi here and there is perhaps no grander stage to mess up on than a wedding. Emotions are high, stress abounds, and months (sometimes years) of careful planning is being set in motion. While everyone is praying for four perfect hours of ceremony and reception, that is rarely the case.
Check around on YouTube or watch a few episodes of America’s Funniest Videos and you’ll be able to start a list of common wedding maladies:
The Fainter
Photo via Wiki Commons
Sometimes it’s the groom, often it’s a groomsman. Every now and then it’s the bride. Funniest one I’ve ever seen? The priest.
If you go to a lot of weddings, you’ve probably seen a fainter. They start to blink and then sway just a bit and then next thing you know, their knees give way and everyone does their best impression of dominos. (By the way, if you’re in a wedding make sure you eat breakfast that morning and don’t lock your knees. That lessens your chances of becoming the fainter!)
You can see some great faints in this video. Most of them are from weddings.
The Wayward Kid
I have considerable experience with this one. I was one.
As the flower girl for my cousin’s wedding, I thought I was hot stuff. Unfortunately, I almost became really hot stuff when I became curious about what would happen if I stepped on the base of an enormous candelabra. No, I didn’t burn the church down, but I think I caused a moment or two of horror.
Photo via Wiki Commons
Kids are adorable and make for some really cute pictures, but they are also unpredictable. You never know when they’ll decide to eat the flower petals or obtain a massive case of stage fright.
The Guests
There are many other opportunities to embarrass yourself at a wedding (and given the propensity of brides to hire photographers and videographers, these moments are captured for posterity). Even if you are only a guest, you aren’t immune to being caught up in the wedding disaster hall of fame. Dance floor escapades, bouquet toss brawls, and unplanned toasts are all fodder for the awkward situation generator.
Got a few guests who’ve indulged too much at the open bar? The chances of chagrin inducing capers increase exponentially.
My Altar Moment
Me and My Hubby, nine years ago
I have to say, though, that I’ve never heard of someone else having the same experience as I did. I’ve heard of flubbed up vows, tongue-tied grooms, and ministers forgetting their notes, but I think I’m fairly unique in my story.
Fortunately, it wasn’t me, although I nearly caught the giggles, which would have made the rest of the ceremony very difficult.
What happened? Well, the minister called my husband a woman. He said, “Do you, Kristi, take this woman…” I very nearly lost it. In his defense, the poor man was very nervous. As a dear friend of the family, he was worried about making a mistake in the middle of the wedding. And then he did.
His own daughter is getting married this weekend. I don’t think he’s officiating the ceremony.
What about you?
Have you been to a wedding where things didn’t quite go as planned? What hilarity ensued at your own wedding?
It started innocently enough. I’d been away for a weekend of trips. Monday morning, I thought, Let me check my email. That’s when the onslaught began.
A note — a perfectly polite one — popped to the top:
“Hi Vanessa,Thank you for writing such a wonderful story. I’d love to share my thoughts on Goodreads and help more people discover it.Warm regards,Rachel.”
Thank you, Rachel. I don’t know what book you read that moved you to writeright me (yes, she wrote right), but thanks.
I kept going through my emails, and Rachel wrote again.
“Hi there,Are you around? If you’re interested in getting the review, just reply with the word ‘Review.’ I’ll take it from there!”
Now, I already suspected Rachel was a bot. But Miss Rachel wasn’t done. She sent another message — and this time, she rudely implied that I’d missed a deadline.
In the entirety of my writing career, I’ve missed exactly one deadline. One. There have been times when I’ve needed more time, but I’ve always negotiated that weeks, sometimes months, in advance. The only time I ever truly missed a deadline — by two weeks — was during COVID, when everyone in my household (and extended family) caught it. It was stressful. I’m a Type A engineer by training, and believe me, that editor reminds me of it to this day.
But I digress.
As writers, we already have enough pressure. The market is shifting. Publishing lines are tightening. The expectation that social media alone can move huge swaths of books is both ridiculous and still the fairy dust traditional publishing counts on. And beyond all that pressure — the bots are coming for us.
So instead of holding a séance for spam or blocking every Gmail address with numbers in it, I decided to sic one robot on another. Thus began the latest episode in my ongoing saga: Robot vs. Robot: The War of the AI Cousins.
Now I’ve had my run in with Chat – please listen to Season 1: Episode 42 – AI Can’t Fake the Funk or the Fire. And you’ll see AI it’s everywhere.
So, I started by feeding these bot emails into ChatGPT. I wanted to see what it would say about its more mischievous relatives.
Take “Lilia C. Oram,” for example — a self-proclaimed Book Marketing Specialist who wrote me an essay-length love letter about my novel Queen of Exiles.
Her message read like a Ph.D. dissertation in flattery:
“Your novel Queen of Exiles is an exquisite and triumphant reimagining of Haiti’s Queen Marie-Louise Covidavid Christophe…”
Can’t you just hear the B.S. in that framing? She continued with alliteration worthy of a thesaurus marathon:
“With the right strategy, this extraordinary story can reach readers and institutions that celebrate narratives of resistance, identity, and freedom…”
Then, naturally, came the sales pitch — A+ Content Optimization, Goodreads Listopia placement, Amazon keyword targeting. In short, every SEO buzzword known to humankind.
ChatGPT barked and said:
Red Flags:
* Overly formal “praise-bomb” introduction.
* Immediate pivot to services.
* Fake “strategy” jargon — terms like “visual storytelling campaigns,” “Goodreads Listopia placement,” and “Amazon A+ content optimization” are standard scam-bait phrases. None of those services require outside contractors, and many are impossible or against Goodreads/Amazon policy.
* Generic Gmail addresses — a real agency would email from a company domain.
* Unrealistic promises — “global recognition,” “reach institutions,” “connect with readers of The House of Eve.” All empty marketing fluff.
My goodness, ChatGPT. I like your style. You’re kind of blatant.
The Booker Prize Blunder
Then came Imran. According to his email, he ran “The Booker Prize Longlist Book Club.”
Now, the real Booker Prize is one of literature’s jewels. So when “Imran” wrote to say his club was “captivated by The Bone Thief” and wanted to feature me in an upcoming author session, I nearly spat out my tea.
There were several problems. First, I didn’t write The Bone Thief. That’s Vanessa Lillie. And second, The Bone Thief did not win the Booker Prize — that was The Bone People by Keri Hulme in 1985. Well, I’ll be. I guess the bot thought all the Vanessas and people with bone books were the same.
ChatGPT wasn’t having it:
* You didn’t write The Bone Thief.A real literary book club — especially one invoking the Booker Prize — would never confuse your work with another author’s. This was a mass email sent to hundreds of writers using scraped names and random book titles.
* “The Booker Prize Longlist Book Club” doesn’t exist.The real Booker organization has an official site and verified socials. They don’t cold-email authors, and they never host “open author sessions” via random Gmail accounts.
* No institutional email address.If it’s not from @thebookerprizes.com or @bookerprizefoundation.org, it’s not real.
* The tone is suspiciously perfect.Words like captivated, haunting, moral complexity, and honored to host you — pure AI-generated flattery.
* The setup leads to a hook.If you reply, you’ll probably get a follow-up asking for a “booking fee,” “Zoom production support donation,” or “press kit submission cost.” That’s the classic second-step scam.
ChatGPT’s advice was simple:
* Don’t reply. Any engagement confirms your email is active.
* Mark as spam or phishing — it helps your provider learn.
* Report impersonations to the real organizations being mimicked.
When the Bots Come Marching In
If you’re an author, chances are you’ve met a bot like Imran, Lilia, or Rachel. They’re part of a growing spam ecosystem aimed squarely at creatives — the AI-powered, copy-paste, faux-professional outreach bot.
They know how to flatter. They know how to mimic sincerity. They even sprinkle in the occasional Oxford comma to seem literate.
So I asked Chat, what are we going to do about your cousins?”
And to its credit, ChatGPT turned into a snitch:
Chat said the following are tells:
* Vague praise.
* Immediate offer. They pivot fast to “services,” “placements,” or “features.”
* Unrealistic promises. “Global recognition” is not a measurable Key Peformance Indicator.
* Keyword spells. “Just reply with the word REVIEW.” (Only bots or IG marketers talk like this.)
This is the new reality. I used to fear that robots would take my jobs.Now, I see they are being employed to spam my inboxes. Oh how the mighty have fallen.
But in a strange way, these exchanges remind me that technology, for all its intelligence, still lacks instinct. The bots can simulate empathy, but they can’t feel the exhaustion of 3 a.m. revisions, the fear of missing deadlines, or the desperation of wanting sincere recognition for our hard work.
They don’t know what it means to live a life of creative — only how to market badly to a creator.
Final Advice to Fellow Authors from a thug’s cousin, ChatGpt:
* Never click.
* Never reply.
* Always verify before you believe.
* And if the flattery is too good, assume it’s fake. No one writes that flowery for free.
And this is from Vanessa – remember your work is worthy of praise and real emails. Don’t give up or give space to the bots.
The Bone Thief by Vanessa Lillie When a Native teenager vanishes from her small town—a place with dark ties to an elite historical society—archaeologist Syd Walker is called to investigate…from bestselling author Vanessa Lillie.
The Bone People, A Booker Prize Winner by Keri Hulme is a novel about the complicated relationships between three outcasts of mixed European and Maori heritage
The House of Eve by Sadeqa Johnson explores what it means to be a woman and a mother in the 1950s, and how much one is willing to sacrifice to achieve her greatest goal.
We are three months away from Fire Sword and Sea—Help me build the momentum for this historical fiction. Please spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about lady pirates in the 1600s. They are women, many our Black and Indigenous. All want a better way of life. Piracy is legal. It’s their answer. It’s their prayer. This saga releases January 13, 2026. The link on my website shows retailers large and small who have set up preorders for this title. Get the collector cards. Who is on your crew?
Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast.
You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.
If you’re ready to move with purpose and power, hit that like button and subscribe and share Write of Passage. Never miss a moment. We have work to do. And I need You on my team.
Thank you for listening. Hopefully, you’ll come again. This is Vanessa Riley.
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There are many other opportunities to embarrass yourself at a wedding (and given the propensity of brides to hire photographers and videographers, these moments are captured for posterity). Even if you are only a guest, you aren’t immune to being caught up in the wedding disaster hall of fame. Dance floor escapades, bouquet toss brawls, and unplanned toasts are all fodder for the awkward situation generator.
