The Warning That Sparked It All

It started with a slide.

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.

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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:

* Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin rattled a nation and helped spur abolition.

* George Orwell’s 1984 warned us how language and surveillance would become weapons.

* James Baldwin, in The Fire Next Time, broke the illusion of American innocence.

* Chinua Achebe reclaimed African voices in Things Fall Apart.

* Octavia Butler’s Kindred forced readers to time-travel into the inescapable legacy of slavery.

These stories didn’t whisper. They roared.

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.

To be the first to know about Fire Sword and Sea: https://bit.ly/fireswordseaupdate

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

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.

Books to help you through your season are:

Rest Is Resistance by Tricia Hersey

A radical, spiritual, and deeply empowering book about reclaiming rest as a tool of liberation.

Black Liturgies: Prayers, Poems, and Meditations for Staying Human by Cole Arthur Riley

A spiritual balm. Riley weaves faith and justice into meditations that feel like breathing in a storm.

Healing the Soul of a Woman by Joyce Meyer

Meyer speaks candidly about trauma, emotional wounds, and how God works healing in the places we hide.

Island Queen by Vanessa Riley

A Caribbean woman’s rise to power in a world that tried to crush her. It’s history, empowerment, and a well researched novel.

The Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

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

“Her skin was very brown, but, from its transparency, her complexion was uncommonly brilliant; her features were all good; her smile was sweet and attractive; and in her eyes, which were very dark, there was a life, a spirit, an eagerness which could hardly be seen without delight.” — That’s Jane Austen purply prose describing Marianne Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility. It’s a passage I repeat in A Wager at Midnight, where our Austen-loving hero sends these words to the woman he loves.

Vanessa on the set of Hallmark’s Sense and Sensibility in a period reconstructed gown.

This sentimental adoration of skin is an example of how, even in the olden days—the 1800s—it’s used to interpret Marianne’s style and good character, and another reason she’s considered qualified to be a good wife.

Where have we gone so wrong that the mere mention of skin makes everyone nervous? Why, when used in literature skin was once a symbol of beauty, in the present it seems linked to division? Why does its celebration feel shameful or wrong? Even those who claim to see no color are blind to the beauty that skin creates.

Did you know that your skin—the dermis—is the largest organ in your body? According to the National Institutes of Health, the average adult’s skin spans 16-22 square feet. That’s a quarter of an average bedroom. For me, that’s half the room on my floor filled with reference books—the ones I’m pouring through as I write. Skin serves as a shield. From freckles, scars, and pigmentation to wrinkles—it’s a storyteller, an archive of our rich history.

More Than Skin Deep

Skin is important. It’s one of the first things anyone notices when you walk into a room. It’s the reason people smile when it’s glowing and radiant. It’s also the reason I was followed around a store when I was young, Black, and in a place where those in power assumed the worst. I wasn’t given the benefit of my character. I was condemned in a glance.

And when people of like minds and shared ancestry congregate and uplift one another, some of those same forces rear their heads again. Now, they are uncomfortable. It makes me wonder—what is it they fear? It’s not 1865. It’s not 1617. Our skin is here to stay, adorned as we please, and present in all public spaces.

Yet, I’m not just talking about external forces. I’m talking about the harm we inflict upon ourselves—the moments we buy into the false narrative that our skin makes us not enough.

Skin as a Reflection of Trauma

Skin records our personal experiences and the imprints of ancestral resilience. It is more than just a covering; it is deeply connected to our emotions and environment. Studies show that trauma leaves a physical signature, not only in our nervous system but in our skin. Ever noticed your skin flaring up after extreme stress—whether it manifests as dryness, scarring, acne, or rosacea? You’ve experienced this connection firsthand.

According to the National Rosacea Society, emotional stress is one of the most common triggers for rosacea. Research in dermatology and psychiatry links post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) to various skin conditions, including psoriasis, eczema, and stress-induced inflammation. Scientists have found that those who experience chronic psychological stress have elevated inflammation levels, which can make skin conditions persistent and resistant to treatment.

A Poster for Healthy Skin – Source: Canva and Vanessa Riley

Our bodies hold trauma in tangible ways. People with alexithymia, a condition where emotions are difficult to identify or express, often experience physiological symptoms, including hyperactivated nerves, increased heart rate, and reduced oxygen flow to tissues. The skin itself becomes more electrically sensitive, reacting intensely to stress. These biological responses serve as reminders that our reactions to the world around us don’t simply disappear.

Trauma and the Legacy of Our Ancestors

Recent genetic research reveals that trauma is not just a singular present experience but one that echoes across generations. The concept of intergenerational trauma suggests that stressful events—war, famine, oppression, and internment—can shape gene expression and affect descendants. Studies of Holocaust survivors and Dutch famine victims show that their children exhibited altered stress responses and health patterns.

Throwing on my science minded writer’s hat for a moment, I must make it clear, trauma doesn’t change our DNA sequence, but it does influence which genes are activated or deactivated—like an editor making notes in the margins of a manuscript. These epigenetic markers can be passed down, creating a biological legacy of resilience or vulnerability. However, just as these changes can be inherited, they can also be rewritten, properly edited out of existence. Healing, self-care, and community can reprogram these genetic expressions, offering paths of restoration.

The Power of Ancestral Survival

Every cell in your body is a testament to survival. Your ancestors endured hardships—some enslavement or forced migration, all subject to colonization. This legacy affects both the oppressed and the oppressor. Both absorb the hate and lies, whether through feelings of false superiority or the fallacy of expecting to be exploited.

Back to Our Skin

Research from Yale and the Mayo Clinic reveals that every human carries an ancestral roadmap at the cellular level. This means that the struggles and triumphs of those who came before us are not just stories—we carry them in our blood, our bones, and our skin.

In the year of our Lord 2025, it’s time to step back and see that we are wonderfully made. Even if our history or ancestry has endured the worst, and even if our ancestors have perpetrated the worst. Knowing true history isn’t about guilt; it’s about recognition—returning honor to those who were hung from the arc of injustice.

Legendary civil rights organizer Ella Baker often asked, “Who are your people?” It wasn’t just a rhetorical question; it was an invitation to recognize the power of lineage. It wasn’t a call for atonement but a call to do better by those upholding supremacy and to do right by our neighbors, all of our neighbors–the ones who don’t worship, love, socialize or believe like you. And especially those who don’t look like you, possessing your skin—the one thing on the list that’s impossible to change.

More Than Skin Deep: The Significance of Firsts

We live in a world where women, Black people, and people of color are still achieving “firsts”—the first to graduate from certain institutions, the first to hold specific leadership positions. I was one of the first, if not the first, Black woman to graduate from Stanford University with a Ph.D. in mechanical engineering. In 2001, only four Black women graduated with a doctorate in physics. I have the honor of knowing one of them.

Yet, despite how hard we work—how much harder we labored to gain our placements—someone will look at our brown skin and assume: affirmative action, lax standards, different (easier) tests. And, of course, we are counted as ‘Didn’t Earn It’ hires. Some believe DEI initiatives are keeping them from breaking into traditional publishing—without considering the possibility that their writing simply isn’t good enough. They don’t realize that calls for historically disenfranchised groups don’t mean the majority is ignored. When people realize that there are enough seats at the table, maybe they won’t be so insecure. Maybe then, they can relax.

For Becky or Karen, I can tell you two things can be true at the same time. When I started out, I remember being told by an agent—one with, let’s just say, racist tendencies—that I wasn’t good enough, and my only hope of publishing was as a co-author. She was wrong. But that manuscript she reviewed? While it had a unique style filled purply prose and uncontrolled flourishes, it was trash. A wise person learns, adapts, and tries not to make the same mistakes. That too is baked into my skin.

Don’t Hide Your Beauty

Maya Angelou once said, “The variety of our skin tones can confuse, bemuse, delight, brown and pink and beige and purple, tan and blue and white. I’ve sailed upon the seven seas and stopped in every land. I’ve seen the wonders of the world, not yet one common man.”

Our skin tells the story of survival, of fire refining gold, of bronzed DNA etched with both power and pain.

Ignore the noise. Your achievements are not anomalies; they are milestones on a journey paved by generations of sacrifice and resilience.

Psalm 139:14 reminds us, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” We are the work of His hand. Our skin—our very being—is a living archive of triumph. We are made not merely to survive, but to thrive in our circumstances, our skin. The legacy endowed in us qualifies us to dream and build and rest—with passion, compassion, and undeniable style.

If you wish to dive deeper into the wonders of skin and pride and human nature, I recommend the following:

I’m Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness by Austin Channing Brown – A personal and insightful memoir on navigating race and faith.

All About Love: New Visions by bell hooks – A discussion on love, self-worth, and community in the face of societal pressures.

Skin: A Natural History by Nina G. Jablonski – A fascinating look at the evolution and cultural significance of human skin.

My Grandmother’s Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies by Resmaa Menakem – A deep dive into how trauma is held in the body, particularly in the context of racial identity.

And If you want to learn more about the powerhouse behind the scene activist Ella Baker, try Ella Baker and the Black Freedom Movement by Barbara Ransby about Baker’s pivotal role in the civil rights movement and her enduring legacy of grassroots leadership.

Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast. This week, I’m highlighting M. Judson Booksellers 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.

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.

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

My mother was the first female entrepreneur I ever met. She started selling baked goods during tax season while my father prepared income taxes for clients in our home. I distinctly remember her brownies—one of my favorite treats—being sold right on our porch to delighted customers. But my mother wasn’t just an entrepreneur; she was a serial entrepreneur. She took that experience and built a bookstore—Goldenrod Christian Bookstore—in the booming metropolis of Aiken, South Carolina. And for those familiar with Aiken, you’ll catch the joke in that description.

Midnight Release Party of A Wager at Midnight at The Book Worm Bookstore

A love of books has always been deeply ingrained in my family, which made it all the more distressing when larger businesses noticed the niche my mother had carved out. Since there wasn’t another Christian bookstore for miles, these businesses began selling Bibles and offering similar services, cutting into her business. I suppose at any stage of success, there will always be competition, challenges, and obstacles that try to stop you. You just never know what each day will bring.

One of my fondest memories of Goldenrod was an item my mother kept by the register—a small, round coin. Some were blue, others red, and each had the words “To It” stamped on the top. It didn’t make sense to me at first. When I asked her about it, she gave me that knowing smile and said, “This is for everyone who delays their dreams, thinking they’ll get around to it.” Then she placed the coin in my hand and said, “See? Now you have a round to it. So go after what you want.”

The idea of “a round to it” is a powerful concept. It represents the ultimate form of procrastination—the assumption that we will always have another moment, another chance. But nothing in life is promised. We shouldn’t make plans assuming X, Y, or Z will happen down the line, nor should we sit still waiting for the perfect moment.

By the time you hear this podcast, I will have released my 26th book into the world, A Wager at Midnight. I will also, in all likelihood, be very tired because we celebrated with a midnight release party. (Side note: I probably should’ve named it A Wager at 10 PM—then I could have gotten a full night’s sleep! But I digress.)

The event was an incredible opportunity to celebrate this book, an indie bookstore that I love, and the readers who believe in my voice and mission—supporting women, female entrepreneurs, and female authors. Because despite what anyone may tell you, being an author is a business. Our product is our words, codified in a book. We have to market, advertise, reach new customers, and most importantly, appreciate every reader—whether they pick up a book from a library, buy it from a bookstore, or listen to it through headphones. Every reader is a valued customer.

At the midnight party, we celebrated in style. The menu featured chimichurri sauce with a range of crudité vegetables, Megan Sussex’s lemon honey olive oil cake with cream cheese frosting, baked donuts with chocolate ganache and floral sprinkles, holiday meatballs, and an array of cheeses—including a particularly tipsy drunk goat cheese. There was plenty of food, and even greater joy in watching people savor what had been created with love and care. Perhaps I’m a serial pleaser because I want people to enjoy my words, but if I throw a party, I want them to enjoy the food, too.

So consider this message your round to it. Wear that outfit you’ve been saving for a special day. Take the trip you’ve been thinking about. Start the business that’s been living in your head, even if the present situation feels uncertain. Celebrate everything—whether it’s a major victory or simply the fact that you’re still in the game.

More about A Wager at Midnight

And as we celebrate book number 26, A Wager at Midnight—Stephen and Scarlett’s story—we honor a narrative that intertwines a fight against the blood disease sickle cell anemia with a love story between a Duke and a Viscountess, who place a wager that will be settled at the end of A Wager at Midnight. At its heart, this book is about two people devoted to medicine and helping others, yet unsure if they can have both love and their dreams. But luckily, Stephen and Scarlett get a round to it.

Books that can help bolster the celebration now mindset:

Don’t Settle for Safe by Sarah Jakes Roberts – Encourages stepping out of fear and into purpose.

The Light We Carry by Michelle Obama – Encourages resilience, taking action, and finding joy even in difficult times.

The 5 Second Rule by Mel Robbins – Teaches a simple technique to stop procrastination and take immediate action.

So celebrate today. Party today. Because nothing is promised, and you deserve your flowers—or your holiday meatballs—even if it isn’t an official holiday. You deserve a celebration.

Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast. This week, I’m highlighting “The Book Worm Bookstore” 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

Sometimes, there are words and events designed to provoke, to get under your skin, to upset the balance of your peace. Over time, I have learned that I can’t react to everything. There’s just too much noise. But some things are too important to ignore.

Right now, libraries are under threat. Institutions we’ve funded to preserve history, like Arlington National Cemetery, are erasing lesson plans that once provided a comprehensive view of our past. If you’re searching for biographies of heroic Americans who happen to be Black, who happen to be a woman or Spanish or Latin, they are no longer easily accessible. The only thing they haven’t done is dig up the graves. And honestly, I wouldn’t put it past them. Nothing seems too indecent or radical anymore. If you’re willing to close libraries or hinder children’s ability to learn about the sacrifices made to build this country, there’s no travesty or crime you won’t justify.

Keep reading Vanessa Riley’s Write of Passage! This post is public so feel free to share it.

Meanwhile, natural disasters rage across the country. Fires burn on both coasts, tornadoes tear through communities, and people are in pain. Leadership feels absent, leaving many confused and struggling to make sense of it all. And if you’re an author in the midst of this chaos, you’re still expected to go out there and promote your book.

Writers and artists often struggle with feeling that their work is inconsequential, that it can wait. But if the pandemic taught us anything, it’s that time is a gift, and there are no guarantees that we’ll see the next moment. The work we do now matters.

If you follow me on social media, you know I strive to keep my posts positive. I share stories that uplift fellow authors and women’s initiatives. I find joy in the simple things, like Megan Sussex gathering us all in a virtual group chat to bake cakes in beautiful pots or arrange flowers on our tables. I’ve seen people take that extra moment to make meals special, to nourish themselves, to create beauty in the everyday. And let me be clear—this kind of joy is a form of resistance. We should never stop embracing it.

But let’s get back to booking. Why is it that artists are expected to hold back from promoting their work in times of crisis? If a professional chef were asked to stop baking because wildfires were raging, we’d find it absurd. If a police officer were told to abandon their duty because of book bans, we’d question the logic. Yet authors are often made to feel guilty for marketing their work when the world is in turmoil.

I wish my job were just writing. But it’s not. Writing is only one piece. There’s also editing, revising, and—perhaps the most exhausting part—letting people know that my book exists. I wish I had an assistant to do it all. I wish we lived in the old days when publishers handled marketing, but that world no longer exists. Today, agents and editors look at an author’s social media presence as part of the package. That doesn’t mean you can’t get a contract without it, but having a strong online presence certainly helps. And maintaining that presence requires effort.

I gravitate toward the social media spaces that bring me joy. I’m active in many places because I have to be, not necessarily because I want to be. I use Facebook for recipe discussions, Instagram for visuals, and I pop into other platforms when necessary. Ideally, marketing wouldn’t be my primary strategy, but here we are.

For those struggling with promotion in the midst of chaos, know this: talking about your book is part of your job. Empathy and support for others are important, but so is your book. If you are traditionally published, sales determine future contracts. And sales won’t happen if people don’t know your book exists. Publishers won’t consider external factors when evaluating your performance. It’s on you to ensure your book gets noticed.

Even when the world is on fire, you have created something meaningful. You’ve brought characters to life, and they deserve to exist in the imaginations of readers. But that won’t happen if you don’t speak up. Your book, the product of months or even years of labor, deserves to be shared with the world.

I’ve said it before on this podcast: We write, we win. Your words matter. They might feel small in the grand scheme of things, but they provide escape and joy to readers. Someone out there needs the story you’ve crafted. But they won’t find it if you don’t tell them about it.

So, take a deep breath, lift your head, and shout from the rooftops: I have a book coming out! And speaking of books, I’m Vanessa Riley, and my next novel, A Wager at Midnight, the second book in the Betting Against the Duke series, is on its way. In this book, you’ll meet Scarlet, a bold young woman who dreams of studying medicine at a time when it is forbidden for women. She can’t even attend a lecture unless she disguises herself as a man. But Scarlet is determined, and she may just find an unexpected ally in a brilliant, slightly uptight physician from Trinidad who happens to love Jane Austen and cassava pone.

See what I did there? I told you about my book, even though the world is in chaos. I poured my heart into writing this story. I’ve included detailed historical notes for those who want to learn more. I hope A Wager at Midnight encourages readers to think deeper about sickle cell anemia, the importance of medical care, and, of course, the magic of falling in love—even when the world feels like it’s unraveling.

Authors and all artists, hear me. Let your art see daylight. Scream from the mountaintops. Walk on water shouting, Look what my hands have wrought with the talent given to me for a time such as this. Never be the servant who buried his talent in the ground because he was afraid of loss, of looking foolish, or of incurring some greater wrath. You are here. Now is the time. You’ve completed a project. Stand tall in your accomplishments and let the world know. Don’t bury your talent in the ground. Don’t waste a moment waiting for a better time. There is nothing better than now, for you don’t know who desperately needs to hear or see what you’ve done—to help them with their healing journey, to take the next step in their creative walk. Your words could be the fuel to propel them forward. What you do in creating changes the world to tilt a little more toward good.

And if you’re feeling stuck or unsure how to promote your own book, here’s a list of books that can help you step up your marketing game:

Book Marketing is Dead: Book Promotion Secrets You Must Know BEFORE You Publish by Derek Murphy – This book challenges traditional book marketing strategies and offers modern, data-driven approaches to help authors effectively reach their audience.

Platform: Get Noticed in a Noisy World by Michael Hyatt – A guide to building a strong personal brand and online presence, showing authors how to stand out and attract readers in an oversaturated market.

For those wrestling with self-doubt, check out:

Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America by Melissa V. Harris-Perry – This book dives into how external forces like stereotypes and societal pressures impact a woman’s self-perception.

Black Boy by Richard Wright – A powerful memoir that can inspire writers to confront the harsh realities of life, self-doubt, and the struggle for personal truth and purpose. Wright’s story will resonate with anyone feeling like their work or life doesn’t matter.

The Midnight Disease: The Drive to Write, Writer’s Block, and the Creative Brain by Alice W. Flaherty – A deep dive into the neuroscience behind creativity, writer’s block, and the emotional struggles writers face.

And what you’ve been blessed to do as a writer or artist is to create. So, A Wager at Midnight – full of laughs, it’s a celebration of community told in a historical setting. Buy my book, she says proudly. As an artist, your book deserves to be seen, and your work deserves to be celebrated, even if the world’s burning.

Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast. This week, I’m highlighting BookPeople 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.

Show Notes:

Flaherty, A. W. (2004). The Midnight Disease: The Drive to Write, Writer’s Block, and the Creative Brain. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.

Harris-Perry, M. V. (2011). Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America. Yale University Press.

Hyatt, M. (2019). Platform: Get Noticed in a Noisy World. Thomas Nelson.

Murphy, D. (2014). Book Marketing is Dead: Book Promotion Secrets You Must Know BEFORE You Publish. Kindle Direct Publishing.

Riley, V. (2025). A Wager at Midnight. Kensington.

Wright, R. (2004). Black Boy. Harper Perennial Modern Classics.

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 in school, I once had a saying, “Sleep you can get any old time, but grades last forever.” At the time, I meant it. It wasn’t the best mindset, but it fueled my drive to maintain a near-perfect grades. As an overachiever, I found comfort in metrics—things that could be measured, quantified, and tracked. That’s how I knew I was doing well. They were the invisible pats to the shoulders. You did good. With working divorces parents who just always couldn’t be there, numbers were a great substitute. Numbers gave me a sense of security, a tangible way to validate my efforts, to validate me.

Vanessa literally on a treadmill.

Unfortunately, I’m not alone. I believe the validation race is everyone’s personal kryptonite and the obsession starts young. My last year in elementary school, I won everything—the Citizenship Award, honors in science and math, and a spot on the honor roll. It was an amazing experience to be recognized by my teachers and the principal. But I remember vividly that same day, being called to a third-grade classroom to encourage my younger brother. He was upset because he hadn’t won anything. I had to gently explain to him that awards like these were given in sixth grade because students were preparing to transition to middle school. It wasn’t his time.

Still, it was difficult to celebrate my accomplishments while knowing he was in pain. Even though he wasn’t eligible for the awards, he still felt the sting of being left out. That’s what the constant chase for validation does to us—we seek it even when we don’t need it, even when it’s not our time to be evaluated or recognized. We keep chasing the numbers, keep running on the validation treadmill.

But the problem with numbers is that when you focus on them too much, you can lose sight of the journey. This isn’t just an issue for young people and students—it follows us into adulthood, into our careers, and for those of us who write, into the publishing world. As an author, numbers are everywhere. It starts with the word count—how many words it takes to complete a manuscript; how many get cut during editing. Then comes the timeline—how long it takes to get through copyediting. A friend of mine showed me how to take a manuscript that has been copy-edited and put it into Pages to track the number of revisions. And while that was cool to learn, it was just another number to haunt me, to obsess over, and to try to get right—whatever that means.

More publishing numbers: how quickly the book needs to be turned around, how many months, days to pub. And then, the numbers shift to reception—the number of reviews, Goodreads ratings, NetGalley and Eidelweis requests. The numbers don’t stop. They just change shape.

Once the book is out, the chase continues: the number of posts on social media, the number of followers, the number of subscribers. The formula for success remains elusive, and the pressure builds. Writers aren’t alone in this. No matter your field, numbers are always chasing you—performance metrics, annual reviews, engagement rates, sales quotas. The cycle never ends. And after a while, this constant pursuit can overshadow the real goal: growth, creativity, and fulfillment.

This endless race can lead to burnout. And burnout looks different for everyone. Some people cry. Some people yell. Some people run miles to clear their heads. Me? I bake deep-dish apple pies. My husband knows I’m in trouble when I start making a pie crust from scratch for no particular reason. He can hear how hard I’m chopping those apples. He sees the intricate lattice work I’m designing on the crust—each crimped edge and delicate braid a sign I’m trying to regain control in a world that feels overwhelming. That’s when he knows to bring me a latte or a pile of chocolate, because his wife is spiraling.

The truth is, we all need people who can pull us out of the chase, who can remind us to stop counting and start living. Rest is not a luxury—it’s a necessity. And rest doesn’t always mean sleep. Just as praying without ceasing doesn’t mean sitting still, resting is an active practice. It can be stepping away from the numbers, engaging in something that feeds your soul, or simply taking a breath. Rest looks different for everyone, but without it, we suffer. Our bodies wear down, our creativity dims, and our minds stop firing in the ways they need to. For a writer, that means losing the very words we work so hard to find.

How do we heal? How do we stop the obsession? I don’t know. We all tick differently. Some books that might help are:

The Courage to Be Disliked by Ichiro Kishimi & Fumitake Koga – A thought-provoking book based on Adlerian psychology that challenges the need for external validation and encourages self-acceptance.

Radical Acceptance by Tara Brach – Explores the power of self-compassion and mindfulness to break free from the cycle of seeking approval.

The Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown – A powerful read on embracing authenticity and letting go of the need for validation from others.

What Happened to You? by Oprah Winfrey & Dr. Bruce Perry – Looks at how past experiences shape our need for validation and how to heal from them.

Fiction provides great examples of validation in all stages. Before I Let Go by Kennedy Ryan deals with validation, self-worth, and healing for both main characters, Yasmen and Josiah, as they try to define their post-divorce evolving identities.

One of the reasons I loved writing Scarlet Wilcox in my upcoming novel A Wager at Midnight is because she has divorced that part of her brain that seeks judgment. She doesn’t care what others think unless it affects her family. Yet, as brave, bold, and daring as she is in seeking her path to bring medicine to those who cannot get it—those whom society deems ineligible or unworthy—she still slips into wanting validation from a physician, Stephen Carew. Scarlet is a good balance of all of us, and I loved writing those moments where she is free of cares and when she’s forced to face her fears.

So I am giving you permission to take a moment for yourself. If you take nothing else from this podcast, learn this: It’s okay to rest. It’s necessary to rest and not focus on numbers or being superhuman. If you don’t take care of you, your body, mind, and creative being, the world will chew you up body, dry up your spirit, and move on to the next overworked soul.

But you? You are the hero of your own story. And every hero needs rest. So take off your cape, stretch it into a hammock, and allow yourself a moment of peace.

Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast. This week, I’m highlighting Eagle Eye Bookshop through Bookshop.org.

Kishimi, I., & Koga, F. (2018). The Courage to Be Disliked: How to Free Yourself, Change Your Life, and Achieve Real Happiness. Atria Books.

Brach, T. (2003). Radical Acceptance. Bantam.

Brown, B. (2010). The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are. Hazelden Publishing.

Winfrey, O., & Perry, B. D. (2021). What Happened to You? Conversations on Trauma, Resilience, and Healing. Flatiron Books.

Riley, V. (2024). A Wager at Midnight. Kensington Publishing.

Ryan, K. (2022). Before I Let Go. Forever.

Subscribe for free. Get Vanessa’s take on current events, publishing—challenges and opportunities—drawing from her journey as an indie author turned traditionally published powerhouse: 26 novels and counting.

Thank you for listening.

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

The Sensitivity of Sensitivity Reads

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Worst Draft in the World

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

Developmental Edits

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

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

Back to Revisions

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

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

The Sensitivity Touch

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

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

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

Copyediting and Proofreading

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

Proofreading

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

My Mantra for Edits

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Show Notes:

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

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

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

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

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

I started writing essays because my mind battled deep disappointment over the state of division in my country. My consciousness is bias, tragically etched with memories of when character mattered. Remember when we all wanted to be president? I remember holding civic medals I’d won in elementary and high school. I recall lifting people up on pedestals and telling younger versions of ourselves, “That’s who I want to be. That’s who I want to emulate when we grow up.”

Heroes of the Haitian War —Empress Marie Claire, Warrior Gran Toya – Art by Tonya Engle for William Morrow—Sister Mother Warrior

That sentiment is gone. People in power are deeply flawed, or their flaws are more obvious. And it’s not just politicians. We look at sports heroes and entertainers and see waves of brokenness—people performing for show, lacking integrity, and becoming poster children of bad behavior. That is why authenticity feels so refreshing, why it can grip the zeitgeist of a nation and have us talking about it, creating YouTube videos and Subtacks on the subject, even spinning reels and threads—finding more ways to tap into our fount of creativity.

We are hungry for authenticity, for authentic creation.

Now, I’m not advocating for perfection. Every writer knows the pitfalls of striving for perfection. We wrestle with word choice, sentence structure, even the order of ideas. We can edit something so many times that our original vision becomes unrecognizable. Yet, we push forward because the act of creating is essential. It’s the breath in an artist’s lungs.

Our better angels—our novels of truth, our canvases of color, our songs of freedom, our quilts of existence, our visuals of life—are needed more than ever. We are hungry for authenticity, for authentic creation.

Our appetites are satiated in low-calorie burns. Scrolling for kicks, laughs, angry takes, and escape is common. But social media, the hellscape that it is, can be a respite or a drug. And I must say, I am confused about the self-induced stupor of tearful videos of people who voted against their own interests, now seeking the world’s sympathy as they grapple with consequences—lost jobs, lost funding, lost farms, and lost hopes. It’s painful to watch. It’s also jarring to see them admit that this consequence is only a problem now because they suffer. I did a podcast about the loss of empathy. I just didn’t expect an equivalent rise in blindness to FAFO.

I wish harm on no one, but these folks are putting themselves and their business out there and wonder why they are being mocked. Empathy and sympathy need to be learned and earned before they can be demanded from others.

And yet, here we are—still divided, still finding out. We could sulk. We could laugh. We could cry. But I believe the better thing to do is to keep moving forward. That’s how we—the collective, those of like minds, and even new converts to humanity—win. Everyone, we can win. We will win.

There’s a scene I wrote in Sister Mother Warrior—the lead-up to the Battle of Vertières, the drive to push the French out which ended the Haitian Revolution, this is a snippet of the audio performed by Adjoa Andoh and Robin Miles:

Staking the flagpole in the ground, he (Jean-Jacques Dessalines) stopped and looked out at his army. “They divide, but we are consolidated, one family. And this gives us victory…”

Then he gave the signal and pointed us to the hills. “Onward! We will win!” The battle cry of Nosakhere, “Mì nan du déji! We will win!” was music to my ears. Women and men cried out in all the mother tongues of the people born here and those stolen from Africa.

“Yebedi kunim,” Twi.

“A yoo ṣẹgun,” Yoruba.

“Nou pral genyen,” Kreyòl.

“Nous gagnerons,” French.

“Mì nan du déji,” blessed Fon.”

I love that scene—people of all races and nationalities gathering to defeat their common oppressors. Unified they drove the French from Haiti. It took everyone. In America, it will take all of us to win.

The True Fight

We’re not fighting with weapons of war—guns and tanks. We are fighting for minds. The power to unlock thought and passion is creation. How we got here doesn’t matter. Whether orderly or chaotic, it’s not about the process—it’s about the product. What are you making with the time you were given?

The battles can be as small as saving your money by avoiding fast fashion and shopping your closet. Eating and talking about life around the kitchen table instead of eating out. Supporting your library by using it and checking out books by your favorite authors is an act of resistance.

For those who harness their creative genes, making something, delivering art is the ultimate act of resistance. Creating ignites the brain, releasing endorphins and unlocking resilience. Instead of dwelling on despair, we must tap into our inner artist, writer, and creator to make magic in the medium of our choosing. I want this period of time to be a rebirth or renaissance for folk arts, for kitchen experimentation, for the novels we will talk about for the next seventy years.

For every creator out there, I know it feels difficult to make art right now. It feels worse when you know you did your part to keep the world from being set on fire. I often think of my farming grandparents, who lived in the Jim Crow South, educated eight children, and bought over 400 acres of land with mere pennies. If they could plant so many seeds in the face of lynchings, why are we letting fear of people who whine at the first moment of heat or being stoned by pea soup cause us despair? No one should keep us from doing what we must. No one.

History proves that perseverance defies expectations:

· Gran Toya led troops in hand-to-hand combat in her 60s during the Haitian Revolution.

· Fauja Singh began running marathons at 89, setting records in his 100s.

· Ray Kroc turned McDonald’s into a global empire in his 50s.

· Diana Nyad swam from Cuba to Florida at 64 after multiple failed attempts.

· Faith Ringgold gained major recognition for her story quilts in her 50s.

· Cicely Tyson was told she wouldn’t make it because of her dark skin; she won a Tony at 88 and worked until her passing at 96.

· Morgan Freeman became a household name in Driving Miss Daisy at nearly 50.

· Samuel L. Jackson landed Pulp Fiction at 46 after years of struggling with his career. Our Uncle Sam is now one of the highest grossing actors in Hollywood.

And, of course, there are the writers I’ve spoken about:

· Toni Morrison published The Bluest Eye at 39 and won the Nobel Prize in Literature at 62.

· Maya Angelou published I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings at 41 and became a literary icon.

· Octavia Butler faced rejection for years before breaking through in sci-fi in her 40s.

To every creator, hear my voice: Grab your paper, pens, keyboards, fruits, spices, fabrics, glues, paints, resins, threads—whatever you have—and birth a miracle. Create. Art is the first and last sign of resistance.

The work isn’t done. We resist by creating. My art—my words—exist to empower Black women, foster sisterhood, and restore the world to a place where we are our brothers’ and sisters’ keepers. The ancestors say we will win. I believe them, and I believe in us.

To read about inspiration and resistance:

· Letters to a Young Artist by Anna Deavere Smith – A guide to creativity and resilience in the arts.

· Just as I Am by Cicely Tyson – The legendary actress’s memoir, chronicling her journey as a Black woman in Hollywood.

· I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou – A deeply personal story of overcoming hardship through art and voice.

· Sister Mother Warrior by Vanessa Riley – A novel about the real women behind the Haitian Revolution, embodying resilience and leadership.

· Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments by Saidiya Hartman – A history of Black women who lived on their own terms in the early 20th century.

· Barracoon: The Story of the Last “Black Cargo“ by Zora Neale Hurston – A firsthand account of survival and resilience from one of the last known survivors of the transatlantic slave trade.

Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast. This week, I’m highlighting The Book Worm Bookshop through Bookshop.org.

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