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.

A Wager at Midnight releases March 25.

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.

Sister Citizen by Melissa V. Harris-Perry, analyzes how stereotypes affect Black women’s lives and their ability to assert agency.

Ain’t I a Woman? by bell hooks explores the intersections of race and gender and the marginalization of Black women.

Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women That a Movement Forgot by Mikki Kendall, highlights the importance of boundaries and self-advocacy, especially for marginalized communities.

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

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.

* God Will Carry You Through by Max Lucado: Reflections on God’s sustaining grace.

* Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward: A haunting exploration of grief and resilience.

* Breathe: A Letter to My Sons by IMANI PERRY: A lyrical exploration of life, love, resilience and grief and systematic loss.

* See You on the Other Side by Rachel Montez Minor: A children’s book that provides comfort to the little ones grieving or coming to terms with loss.

Places We Can Donate

Money is action. Every little bit helps.

For LA, choose:

* World Central Kitchen

* United Way of Greater Los Angeles: Wildfire Response

* American Red Cross-Wildfire Relief

For Hurricane Helene, choose:

* United Way

* The Salvation Army

* All Hands and Hearts

Back To The Man from Plains

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

For the past five years, I’ve embraced the practice of choosing a word to frame my year. The selection serves as a calling card, a guiding principle to reflect upon and shape my actions and mindset.

My husband suggested tuna. Yes, you heard me—tuna. Lord bless him. He’s cute and a keeper, but tuna? Wanting to be gutted and stuffed in a metal tin is not what I want on 2025’s bingo card.

My previous words have included:

* Bold: A year of stepping out of my comfort zone.

* Happiness: A focus on joy and gratitude.

* Peace: Seeking tranquility and balance.

* Yes: Inspired by Shonda Rhimes’ Year of Yes: How to Dance It Out, Stand in the Sun, and Be Your Own Person, I committed to saying yes to new opportunities and challenges.

Shonda says, “The most important thing you can do is to keep saying yes. Saying yes opened up my life in ways I could never have predicted. It was a powerful force.”

The “yes” opportunities, even those that feel outside our comfort zones, can lead to transformation and success beyond our wildest dreams. I’m a writer. I love wild, unimaginable dreams.

My Year of Yes was 2019. Despite my skepticism and hesitation, I said yes to some things that ended up changing the trajectory of my career. I began dabbling in and studying mystery and suspense, saying yes to writing new genres and new POVs.

I wrote the big book, Island Queen, that I never thought would be contracted or published. The power of yes and being open is unmatched. Could 2025 be a repeat Year of Yes?

Well, yes and no. I’m in a different place—mentally, physically, even spiritually. My faith is strong, but I feel loss so deeply. I can’t put my finger on it, nor is it just one thing—but it’s gone.

Part of that feeling comes from what I witnessed. Last year unveiled sides of humanity I didn’t want to see. People who should be natural allies were torn apart by self-interest or self-hate. The reality of progress, which I once believed to be within reach, now feels like an illusion. We are not our brothers’ or sisters’ keepers—not when eggs are $9.00. Or when I wrongfully believe that helping another living, breathing soul somehow takes from me.

2025, you had me screaming into the void, only for it to suck away the sound. My tears can’t be heard. I need a word that will pull me away from the void—the endless hole called cynicism. I need it to help me rebuild.

I know I’m not alone in this. My closest friends and I still gather to discuss, pray, and believe for something better. Yet, the weariness persists, and I can see myself calling out, “Prayers, prayers, sorrows,” for everything outside my circle.

I need a new word. I take comfort in knowing that finding a word for inspiration is an exercise as old as time.

Historical Timeline of Setting Yearly Intentions

* Babylonian Origins (~2000 BCE): The Babylonians made promises to their gods to do good deeds, seeking favor for the coming year.

* Roman Influence (46 BCE): With the Julian calendar, Romans made resolutions on January 1, with promises of improvement and good moral conduct.

* Peacock Vows (6th–15th Century): In the medieval period, knights participated in the “peacock vow,” an annual pledge to maintain their chivalric code.

* Religious Resolutions (~15th Century): Early Christians were encouraged to reflect on past mistakes and resolve to improve in the new year.

* Modern Secularization (18th Century): Under Protestant influence, resolutions began emphasizing personal accountability and self-improvement.

* The Akan People and Adinkra Symbols (~19th Century–1818): The Akan people of West Africa chose Adinkra symbols to guide them for the year, such as:

* Nkyinkyim (initiative/dynamism)

* Eban (protection/security)

* Victorian Era (19th Century): Making New Year’s resolutions became a widespread practice in Western culture.

* Germany’s Word of the Year (1971): The Gesellschaft für deutsche Sprache (Society for the German Language) selects a “Word of the Year” to reflect social and cultural trends. For 2024, they chose “Ampel-Aus” or “traffic light shutdown,” referencing Germany’s coalition collapse.

* Self-Help Movement (1980s–1990s): Choosing a word at the beginning of the year gained popularity, encouraging focus on a single concept to guide actions.

* Modern Popularity (2000s+): Mindfulness and productivity proponents like Gretchen Rubin (author of The Happiness Project) spread the idea of guiding words over traditional resolutions.

* One Word Movement (2010): The book, One Word That Will Change Your Life by Jon Gordon, Dan Britton, and Jimmy Page, brought global attention to the concept.

So, from a historical perspective—whether inspired by faith, adventure, the need to organize, or focus—we’ve all been searching for a word to help us get our acts together.

It’s still hard. Disappointment and fear make us want to stand still and watch the world burn. In Isaiah 40:31, the text speaks to a desire for the Lord to renew our hope. I want hope. I want to feel it and again soar on wings like eagles. I want to run and not grow weary. I want to laugh and not fear what comes next.

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Meghan Markle, the Duchess of Sussex, says, “The most important thing we can all do for ourselves is leave room for magic.” Like Shonda, Meghan encourages us to remain open to the unexpected, the unknown, and make space for magic. Magic leads to hope, and hope leads to the greatest possibilities.

But hope isn’t my word, 2024 took care of that. Hope is a state of being. To me, it’s not an action. It feels passive and implies waiting. Nobody has time for that.

My Word for 2025

This year, my word is Dare. According to Webster’s dictionary, “dare” means to have the courage to do something or to challenge oneself. I chose this word because it encapsulates my desire to:

* Double-dare myself to face fears and doubts.

* Stretch beyond the boundaries I’ve grown comfortable within.

* Embrace risks that could lead to transformative growth.

Daring Myself to DoAs I step into 2025, I dare myself to flee apathy. I dare myself to let my deeds shine brighter, to be bigger and bolder than ever before. This year, I will embrace more risks, more words, more watching, more praying—all while holding onto hope. At times, I will rest, so I can rise with renewed strength. The fire within me hasn’t been extinguished. It still smolders. It burns for you and for me—for what we could become.

In these uncertain times, with bombings, terrorism, and tariffs on the horizon, I’ve chosen to take control of my personal narrative. Writing about strong women who overcome extraordinary challenges reminds me that I, too, can dare to be bold, dare to be resilient, and dare to be fully myself.

I encourage you to choose your word. Let it be a balm for your soul. Make it your battle cry to achieve something greater—even in moments of disillusionment. I dare you. I double dog dare you to win—for yourself and those you hold dear.

Books Mentioned in this Podcast:

Year of Yes: How to Dance It Out, Stand in the Sun, and Be Your Own Person by Shonda Rhimes

The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin

That Will Change Your Life by Jon Gordon, Dan Britton, and Jimmy Page

Island Queen by 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