Flying home from the Historical Novel Society conference, I learned a lesson in indoctrination. I’m on a fast-moving deadline for a special project, but I had to go. HNS holds a special place for me. My very first HNS conference changed the trajectory of my life.

Before attending in 2019, I published lovely Regency romances. Sweet, comforting, polite novels—educating the world through fun, nonthreatening, history-filled reads.

But HNS cracked something open. Meeting a tribe of fellow history nerds and selling the book I never thought I’d sell—Island Queen, the biographical fiction about Dorothy Kirwan Thomas, one of the richest Black women in the Georgian world, a woman who bought her freedom and defies every rule and obstacle to live freely—that gave me the courage to keep telling stories that tug at my heart and mind.

Being free to create is a gift. One that’s hard to achieve. Black and brown creators, and women creators, have been indoctrinated, fed rules in the simplest of terms that challenge our freedom. Rules such as:

* That more ethnic the cover, the more it can impact book sales—or determine where a book gets shelved.

* That a pen name that sounds like a man’s carries more heft.

* That “historical accuracy” will be weaponized to silence you if you make one mistake.

* That if you fail, your failure will become the reason the next person who looks like you gets turned away.

You’ll never know how much that last one haunted me. How it still probably drives me to go the extra mile.

And I share all this to say: we’ve all been indoctrinated by our circumstances.

Writers learn quickly by how we’ve been treated—and how we’ve seen others treated—in publishing. It’s hard to break the pattern. And it’s about logic. It’s 1 + 1 = 2 when one sees patterns repeating.

And you, the listener—you’ve been indoctrinated.

Certain patterns, behaviors, even thoughts have been ingrained through images and repetition. This was made clear to me on my flight home.

Flying back from Vegas, Atlanta’s weather did not cooperate. Several delays and cancellations later, I was finally on my way but rerouted through Minneapolis. I’d arrived in Atlanta with just a four-hour delay and a bump up to first class. All was good.

But I wasn’t prepared for the real lesson I’d take from that flight.

An older gentleman sat beside me. The moment we took off, he flicked on his monitor and tuned into the news. He looked like a typical executive—loafers, golf watch, faint aftershave. He popped in his headphones, stared at the screen, and then drifted off to sleep.

I was writing but I couldn’t help watching. Something about flickering images in my periphery always pulls me in. For ten minutes, I stared at his monitor. No sound—just headlines and smiling faces discussing stories that disturbed me.

Ice raids with masked men capturing women on the street. The host smiled.Florida detention camps pop onto the screen. The smiling host makes it appear to be a pitch for a Disney vacation.

And my neighbor slept. Peacefully. Whatever was being whispered in his ear lulled him into calm.

I sat there gobsmacked.

This is indoctrination.

Indoctrination is subtle, yet powerful.It’s not about shouting.It’s about repeating.It’s about phrasing.It’s about making you feel safe while you’re being lulled into believing counterintuitive things.

The TV’s formula was simple:

* Repeat the same emotionally charged themes again and again.

* Print aggressive words: sue, threaten, destroy, take back, fight for your children.

* Paint the other side as monsters trying to take away your rights—your autonomy, your voice, your values.

* Frame reasonable actions as extreme.

* Show flags. Cue nostalgia. Stir something primal.

* Smile while doing it.

And the man next to me? He slept. Fully content. The world whispering in his ear made sense. That’s when I understood the terrifying genius of it.

People aren’t being brainwashed. They’re being comforted—soothed by simple stories, a few buzzwords, and a familiar rhythm.

In this whispering world, empathy is suspect.Fairness? A threat.Truth? Conditional.

How else do you explain people cheering for a roofer—someone who rebuilt their home after a hurricane—being rounded up and sent to a detention camp being pictured as a theme park?

What happened to questioning things?When did we decide that cruelty is an acceptable solution?Why is it okay to sleep through someone else’s pain?

Be awake.

Don’t let anyone tell you you’re overreacting.You’re not a sucker for caring. You’re human.

And to my fellow protestors and change-makers: we can’t just fight with facts and five-point plans. Shame doesn’t move people. Complexity doesn’t sway them.

If your message makes them feel stupid, they’ll dig in and side with the whisperers.

So what can we do?

We make the stakes as clear as possible.

We must give up the five-dollar words.Because those words only land with the most liberal among us. And as Nicole Hannah-Jones wrote in her recent New York Times essay, How Trump Upended 60 Years of Civil Rights in Two Months, citing scholar Ian Haney López—the rapid decline in support for DEI came from liberals. Particularly white liberals. Those skeptical of diversity. Those sympathetic to complaints about “wokeness.”

It hurts. On so many levels. Who is actually an ally?We had the George Floyd awakening, the feel-good changes… and then people voted against their better angels—for cheap eggs all while rolling back the good changes.

It’s going to take me a while to believe in allyship again.

And the lack of big words hurts because I love big words. I love nuance. But I’d rather be heard than admired for my vocabulary. I’d rather reach the “gettable” than preach to the choir, a choir who might be full of whisperers.

So:Use simple language.Simple signs.Drop the jargon.Focus on why it matters to them.

And alas, poor Yorick—and Vanessa—we must keep it simple.

Maybe then we can re-indoctrinate the world to be good.For once.For all.

Books to help with framing the problem are:

Nice Racism by Robin DiAngelo

A follow-up to White Fragility, this dives deeper into how progressive people often unknowingly uphold systemic racism.

White Rage by Carol Anderson

A piercing explanation of how systemic racism reacts violently to Black advancement in America—through policy, education, and media.

Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde

Essential essays on the intersections of race, gender, sexuality, and the power of being awake to oppression.

The 1619 Project: A New Origin Story by Nikole Hannah-Jones

This anthology reframes American history by placing the consequences of slavery and the contributions of Black Americans at the very center of the national narrative and reveals how deeply racial ideology—and indoctrination—are woven into the fabric in the U.S.

This week, I’m highlighting Malik Books through their website and Bookshop.org

Help me build momentum for Fire Sword and Sea—spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about female pirates in the 1600s. This sweeping saga releases January 13, 2026. The link on my website shows retailers large and small who have set up preorders for this title.

Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast.

You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.

Let’s keep rising and creating together—like, subscribe, and share. Please stay connected to Write of Passage.”

Thank you for listening. Hopefully, you’ll come again. This is Vanessa Riley

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

It probably won’t surprise you—at least not once you’ve met me—that I’m a planner. My name is Vanessa Riley, and I’m a serial planner. There isn’t an outline I don’t love, nor a spreadsheet that doesn’t call my name.

If I could design a map of a map of a map of systems accompanied by a flowchart—I’d consider it bliss. Come to one of my book events and ask what kind of person or writer I am, and I’ll often tell you: I’m a nerd’s nerd, a meticulous nerd. That’s right—pocket protector-level nerd. I love formulas and systems. I love figuring things out and then optimizing them.

Why? Because we only get so much energy, so much time, and so many resources in this life. I want every ounce I give to have maximum effect. If you can show me how to reach more people, make more impact, or spark more meaningful change, I’m listening. I’m all in.

But what happens when the plan doesn’t work?

Devastation. Armageddon. World War 3. In other words, I don’t take it well.

Yet I listened to Meghan Sussex, yes Meghan Markle on the Emma Grede’s podcast, Aspire, talking about failing as winning.

It sounds crazy at first.

I mean carefully charted course falls apart. How is it winning, when something completely unexpected hijacks your progress and leaves you scrambling? For those who “pants” their way through books—that is, write without plotting—this kind of disruption might just feel like a quirky detour. But for a planner? It’s devastating.

Life is unpredictable and messy. You pour energy into structure and logic and find out the world has other ideas.

And if the detour is because of people— you know the ones who don’t behave the way you think they should. Those people who’ve bought into that notion called free will, it can be devastating.

You don’t know who to trust. Or if you should trust it all. If the past year has taught us anything, it’s that people often act in ways that defy their own interests. They cling to ideals or narratives that make sense only to them. And we have to let them. As a famous poet, Bobby Brown used to insist, that’s their prerogative.

For those of you who know the chaos of watching a plan implode, I see you. I’ve lived that upheaval, and I want to offer a few steps I’ve found helpful:

1. You did your best.

Even if the outcome wasn’t what you expected, you gave it your all. The plan didn’t play out perfectly, but you showed up. You tried. And it’s OK to take a moment to lick your wounds.

2. Mourn what was built and what was lost.

It’s perfectly valid to grieve the work, the dream, or the strategy that didn’t survive. Tend to your mental health. Sometimes, starting over means burning what didn’t work to the ground. This can feel extreme, but it’s also freeing. When ego is stripped away, what’s left is humility, hunger, and a wide-open future.

3. Learn the lessons.

Every failure teaches us something. Maybe you trusted someone you shouldn’t have. Or maybe you missed an opportunity to include a partner who would have made all the difference. The lesson might be to trust more wisely. One of the best lessons is to pay attention not just to the bottom line, but to everyone on all sides.

4. Stopping is not quit.

Unless you’re physically in the grave, the game is not over. You might feel tired. You might feel lost. But you are not done. Separate the strategy from the strategist. It’s not a failure if you’ve learned to do better.

5. It’s okay to begin again.

Being brand new is not failure—it’s freedom. There’s a joy in learning, in discovering new spaces, in making new connections. Walking away and choosing the right season to begin again is a win.

6. Accept that all spaces aren’t meant for you.

When I look at that portrait of Ruby Bridges (The problem we all live with), as she’s being escorted by guards to integrate a classroom—people are screaming, writing nastiness on walls. But she and her parents decided that was the place for Ruby to be.

Honestly, I don’t know if I’d make the same call. Ruby’s treatment was horrific. Adults who should be protecting children were monsters in plain sight.

That’s hard. I’d question if that sacrifice is worth my peace?

Sometimes, the brutal truth is that the path you planned wasn’t yours. Stopping doesn’t mean you lost. It might mean you’re closer to the path that you’re meant to take. And in this day and age, that place needs to be loving, edifying, and safe. You have to feel you can bring all of you, not just fragments. Not just 50% of your gifts. All or nothing.

Writers know this well. Sometimes, we have to throw out what doesn’t work. I deleted 50,000 words from a manuscript that wasn’t working. That kind of heartbreak required ice cream and chocolate, and maybe a few deep sighs—but it made the book stronger. With my upcoming novel Fire Sword and Sea, the original plan didn’t hold. It took me two years, and several rewrites, to get it right.

Because I’m writing about real people—Pirates Jacquotte Delahaye, Michel Le Basque, Anne Dieu-Le-Veut, Laurens De Graaf and others from the 1600s—I owe it to them, and to my readers, to go the extra mile. You have to be will to pay the price to create value, something of lasting meaning.

If it’s worthwhile, it’s worth the effort. A good book is worth the effort. And you? You’re worth everything it takes to reach your dreams.

You know those dreams—the ones that keep you up at night, the ones you see in vivid color when your eyes finally close. These dreams call to you for a reason. And I believe you can do it. I’m counting on you. I know you can win.

Books to help you on your journey:

Meghan Sussex recommends Atomic Habits by James Clear. It’s is a practical guide to transforming your life by making small, consistent changes that compound into remarkable results.

When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chödrön

– Wisdom for moments when your plan shatters and you need spiritual grounding

.

Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle by Emily Nagoski & Amelia Nagoski

– For the serial planner who’s burnt out and doesn’t know why. It’s a guide to recovering your energy and agency.

This week, I’m highlighting Parnassus Books through their website and Bookshop.org

Help me build momentum for Fire Sword and Sea—spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about female pirates in the 1600s. This sweeping saga releases January 13, 2026. The link on my website shows retailers large and small who have set up preorders.

Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast.

You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.

Let’s keep rising and creating together—like, subscribe, and share. Stay connected to Write of Passage.”

Thank you for listening. Hopefully, you’ll come again. This is Vanessa Riley

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

If you don’t recognize the phrase “Sexual Chocolate,” then you might be too young or too sheltered—or simply overdue for a viewing of Coming to America. The phrase hails from a hilarious moment in this 1988 cult classic when Prince Akeem (played by Eddie Murphy) attends a church service in Queens hoping to find a “good woman.”

He does find one—but not before the audience is treated to a cringe-worthy performance by a band called Sexual Chocolate, fronted by the deluded Randy Watson (also played by Eddie Murphy in disguise). Randy sings off-key, struts like a super star, and owns the moment.

He even drops the mic to a silent crowd. Except one diehard fan leaps to his feet, clapping and shouting, “That boy is good. That boy can sing!”

It’s iconic, ridiculous, and strangely affirming. Because in a world that’s often silent—or even worse, critical—every writer, every artist needs their own version of that one fan in the crowd. Every writer needs a little Sexual Chocolate.

In today’s publishing landscape, the pressure to produce, perfect, and promote your work can be overwhelming. The road is long, the milestones are often invisible, and the validation? It’s often non-existent.

And even those at the top of their game need well wishes and love. I send some now to Ali, a real advocate who has people so pressed that find fault over ridiculous things. Ali, you are love and light. Signed, your Atlanta Hype woman.

That’s where your hype person comes in. We need a cheerleader, someone who sees your potential even when your proses are shaky, your plot is flat, your characters are still finding their rhythm. These cheerleaders shout encouragement when you feel invisible. They believe in your words—even before they’re ready for the world.

But this kind of fandom isn’t just blind praise. We have rules.

Rule #1: Be Sensitive.

A good hype person knows the difference between when a writer is ready to hear feedback and when they just need a boost. Some days are for critique; others are for comfort. Sometimes what we need most is for someone to say, “Keep going. I see you. You’ve got this.”

Rule #2: Be Strategic.

Cheering doesn’t mean enabling bad decisions. Don’t let your writer friend send out a draft that isn’t ready. Don’t let them self-sabotage by skipping the hard (but necessary) parts of the process—like working with an editor, developing a marketing plan, or cultivating industry relationships. Praise their progress, yes. But also give gentle nudges to help them remember to do the work that success requires.

Rule #3: Know Their Creative Love Language.

Every writer is fueled by different things. Some need words of affirmation. Some need gifts (like good chocolate, please and thank you). Some need a like or share of a post. Some need you telling one person or one library about their books.

Others need quality time—just someone to sit with them in the mess and say, “You’re not alone.”

The truth is, even the strongest voices waver. Even the most confident writers have moments of doubt. That’s why it’s more important than ever to be a person in someone else’s corner. Check in on your writer friends. Call up the creatives. Remind them they’re not crazy for chasing the dream, battling blank pages, or daring to tell a story that hasn’t been told before.

So today, be someone’s fan. No matter how off-key they feel, your belief in them might be the thing that gets them through.

Now say it with me: That writer can write.

Some books to help us be better encouragers are:

Keep Moving by Maggie Smith it’s

a collection of affirmations and reflections that feel like encouragement from a friend.

Untamed by Glennon Doyle is especially for women creatives, teaching how to step into your power—and to surround yourself with people who cheer for you, the fully realized version of yourself.

The Light We Carry by Michelle Obama is not just for writers but this beautiful meditation offers hope and helps us navigating tough seasons.

This week, I’m highlighting Kindred Stories through their website and Bookshop.org

Help me build momentum for Fire Sword and Sea—spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about female pirates in the 1600s. This sweeping saga releases January 13, 2026. The link on my website shows retailers large and small who have set up preorder.

Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast.

You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.

You can guess my love language? Go ahead and like this episode and subscribe to Write of Passage so you never miss a moment.

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

Whenever I finish writing a manuscript, there’s always this unexpected wave of sadness that hits me. It shouldn’t be unexpected. This is like my 27th or 28th book.

But yes. You heard me right—sadness.

Because now I’m done with these characters.

Characters I’ve lived with for three, sometimes four months. Characters whose voices echoed in my head, who made me laugh, who made me cry, and made me question everything. And once I’ve typed “The End,” there’s a sudden stillness. And in the silence, creep doubts:

“Could I’ve done this better?”

“What if I’d added one more scene?”

“Did I do them justice?”

But here’s the truth—you need to let it sit.

You need space. You need time.

You need to send it off to your editor, beta reader, or mother, and let someone else hold the story for a while, because you’ve been holding it close for too long. And when it comes back—marked with notes, questions, maybe even a few praises—you’ll be ready. You’ll have distance. And perspective to guide you.

Still… I get a little sad. Because I’ve grown attached.

My brain still wants to write more scenes, dream up alternate endings, give side characters more airtime. But the book is done when it’s done. There’s no need to stretch a moment or linger more than necessary.

⸻

With A Deal at Dawn, I’ve wrapped up the Betting Against the Duke series.

It’s been a journey.

• A Gamble at Sunset was Georgina’s story—a fake courtship that turned into something real, when she found her voice.

• A Wager at Midnight followed Scarlet, a woman fighting for public health alongside a handsome doctor and the complicated Duke we come to love.

• But A Deal at Dawn… this one’s different.

It’s a second chance romance, yes—but one that deals with what happens when forgiveness feels impossible. When tomorrow isn’t promised. It asks: what does happily ever after look like when you’re living with chronic, debilitating illness?

Maybe that’s why this book lingered. Because it’s heavy. It’s real with my trademark foolishness thrown in.

I want to be respectful of those finding themselves in this position. I want to tell a story that isn’t often told in historical romance. A story about two people—Jahleel and Katherine—who’ve made serious, tragic mistakes. Who are struggling. And yet… still worthy of love.

It was hard to write.

But I think you’re going to feel every bit of it.

⸻

Now that the manuscript is done, I ask myself:

What comes next?

The summer months are my time to dig into the “wish list” projects. Those ideas that won’t let go. Stories that whisper in the back of my mind. The ones I dream about while I’m supposed to be sleeping. Between conferences, revisions, and promo—it’s my time to play again.

But also… it’s hard not to look around at the world and feel the weight of everything. We’re pretty cooked.

The news? Bleak.

Protests are erupting. People suffering from natural disasters are being ignored. Prices rise. Patience runs low.

It’s like we’re all trapped in satan’s pressure cooker. I don’t want be chopped steak. I want off the menu. Please rewind the clock to a time when we were all filet mignon—delectable, tender by nature, and expensive by choice.

But I watched a reel the other day—just a young woman speaking truth.

She said:

“If our ancestors survived war, enslavement, displacement, disease…

If they survived laws written to break their spirits—

Then so can we.”

And she’s right. We have survived darker days.

So I have faith that we’re going to get our acts together.

That somehow, everything will shake out.

That it’s going to be okay again.

So take a deep breath with me—

Everything is going to be all right.

⸻

But in the meantime, preserve your mental health.

Hold close the things and people you cherish.

And let yourself rest. You’ve done a lot.

You are doing a lot.

And then—when you’re ready—start asking:

What’s next?

What project is going to consume you for the next three or four months?

Which story or idea wakes you wake up early?

What is it that keeps tugging at your thoughts like a child in want of attention. It needs nurturing.

It needs your love to be poured in to it. lt cries out for your energy, and clutches at your heart until it’s finally complete.

That’s where I’m headed.

That’s what I’m looking for right now.

Even while revising, promoting, preparing for launch days—I’m dreaming of that next passion.

And speaking of what’s next—I’ve been talking a lot about Fire Sword and Sea. We’re getting closer to a cover reveal, and I can’t wait for you to see how that story’s shaped up . It’s going to be a wild ride.

⸻

So, I’ll leave you with this:

Don’t give up.

Find that passion.

Let it move you, stretch you, heal you.

And when it shows up? Let it consume you—in the best possible ways.

Books to help us let go are:

Still Writing: The Perils and Pleasures of a Creative Life by Dani Shapiro. It’s a deeply personal meditation on writing, grief, self-doubt, and creative renewal.

Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. This is a classic that embraces imperfection, persistence, and yes, the sadness and relief of finishing a project.

Ordinary Notes by Christina Sharpe is not a traditional writing craft book, but it’s deeply reflective, exploring memory, loss, Black life, and the power of language. It’s perfect for writers processing the emotional weight of finishing something.

This week, I’m highlighting Detroit Book City through their website and Bookshop.org

Help me build momentum for Fire Sword and Sea—spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about female pirates in the 1600s. This sweeping saga releases January 13, 2026. The link on my website shows retailers large and small who have set up preorder.

Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast.

You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.

Enjoying the vibe? Go ahead and like this episode and subscribe to Write of Passage so you never miss a moment.

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

Have you ever not known how empty you were—until a weekend of feasting showed you just how hungry you really are?

That was me, this weekend. I spent it in the company of 1,500 readers and fellow authors at the Black Romance Book Fest, and I left with my heart and spirit overflowing. Now, you might say, “Vanessa, I get your newsletter. I follow you on Instagram and Threads. I see the pictures. You go to a lot of events.” And yes, that’s true. I do. I’m the type who soaks everything in—the people, the place, the energy, the reason we gather.

But this? This was different.

When you’re marginalized, stepping into spaces where you’re one of only a handful can be daunting. I still remember sitting in a ballroom at an RWA conference, surrounded by people who wouldn’t meet my gaze—blue eyes turning away, avoiding eye contact as though acknowledgment might cost them something. In those moments, I’ve wished for a sign that read: Conversation is free. I don’t bite.

And then back in my hotel room, I’d recite poet Gwendolyn Brooks’s work, To Black Women. She begins with:

“Sisters,where there is cold silenceno hallelujahs, no hurrahs at all, no handshakes,no neon red or blue, no smiling faces prevail.”

It’s as if Gwendolyn herself had walked the conference floors with me. You learn to prepare yourself, to build armor against the lack of hurrahs, the absence of handshakes. You remind yourself that rejection isn’t always personal—people read what they relate to. Unless they choose to diversify, most gravitate toward characters who look like them or have shared lived experience. Unless, of course, if we’re talking werewolves or vampires—those stories get an all-access pass, while Black, brown, or queer stories are often left outside the gates.

And then there was this weekend.

At Black Romance Book Fest, no one turned away. People smiled. They hugged. They talked to everyone.

You heard Nice boots, cute T-shirt, Girl!!! those nails, and cool—a pirate costume, etc.

The halls were crowded with people, laughter, and cheer. Hallelujahs rang out online buddies met in real life. Hurrahs echoed down halls. It was a beautiful thing—to feel welcomed and seen in a space filled with so many faces who wanted to get you. There was a collective joy, an ease in being present, that’s hard to put into words, but you feel it. It vibrates across your skin and sinks into your soul.

The breadth of representation moved me. Every genre and subgenre had a seat at the table—fantasy, paranormal, historical, contemporary, romantic suspense. I remember chatting with a fantasy author who was stunned, and delighted, to see how many Black readers were there for fantasy and speculative fiction. No genre was out of bounds. Everything—every moment—felt welcoming and grounded in sisterhood and solidarity.

Of course, no event with 1,500 people and limited elevators can escape a little drama. But that’s every conference. I’ve experienced worse. I remember once, dressed in full Regency garb for a costume party, being stopped at the door because someone assumed—that I was in the wrong place. Apparently, I didn’t look like the kind of person who belonged in a Regency gown. That’s the kind of foolishness many of us with Black faces in literary spaces are familiar with. And unfortunately, it still happens, it just looks different—lack of support, lack of proper editing and marketing. Or simply turning the other way at a book signing. But that’s why I pour so deeply into my people, if you’ve made it this far, you are my people, but I especially want to bless the Black sisters who’ve supported me across every step of my career.

They honor that I write something different. They honor everyone who does. They uplift the wide spectrum of Black storytelling—because at the core of it all is love: love of beauty, love of self, love of each other. And that love creates room for fantasy, horror, sci-fi, thrillers, historicals—genres long denied to us but reclaimed through our voices, our pens, and our varying visions.

Gwendolyn Brooks ends her poem with these lines of quiet hope:

“But there remain large countries in your eyes.Shrewd sun.The civil balance.The listening secrets.And you create and train your flowers still.”

This weekend helped me remember my own gardens. That I can conquer large territories or conferences. Black Romance Book Fest refreshed my soul. It restored my balance. It reminded me that I’m still called to create and train my flowers. That even in the face of rejection or erasure, there are places for my stories—and yours.

To my fellow authors: you’re not crazy. Your readers are out there. They are waiting, hungry for what only you can bring. And they’ll be (mostly) patient while you take the time you need to grow and train your flowers.

Because they believe in the bloom that’s coming. And so do I.

Books to help us to grow and train our minds are:

To Black Women by Gwendolyn Brooks, it can be found in the public domain, but

A Street in Bronzeville by Gwendolyn Brooks is available. It’s her debut collection. It that features poems of everyday life with dignity, tenderness, and piercing realism.

For Read Caribbean Month I recommend,

How to Say Babylon by Safiya SinclairA searing memoir about a Rastafarian girl finding her voice against a backdrop of patriarchy.

And lastly, I am asking for your support for Fire Sword and Sea—spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about female pirates in the 1600s. This sweeping saga releases January 13, 2026.

Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast. This week, I’m highlighting Joseph-Beth Booksellers through their website and Bookshop.org

You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.

If you believe like me that stories matter—please like, share, and hit subscribe to Write of Passage.

Thank you for listening. Hopefully, you’ll come again. This is Vanessa Riley.

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