To step away from my desk, from writing, usually takes intention—an obligation, an appointment, an event.

But this weekend, instead of rushing back to my hotel room to work, I took a walk in the city that never sleeps

.

New York City is magic. The lights and screens can mesmerize for hours. The hustlers are everywhere, each chasing their own dream with a specific kind of determination. I melted into the crowd—a sea of people, heads tilted down, grimaces in place, walking like they’re late to a very important date.

And yet, as I shuffled forward, I walked with purpose. Certain of my own hustle. Certain that, like the waves of moving feet around me, I’m going somewhere important.

Even though these times feel tense and nerve-wracking, this too shall fade. The question is: Who will you be when revival comes?

I suggest you should be out walking. Walking to your own tune. Strolling between memory lane and adventure street.

We can’t let depression and deadlines keep us trapped on a treadmill to nowhere. We need to be out, moving, seeing the sights, meeting the moment head-on.

Downtown New York. Times Square—it’s still vibrant, still electric with people, places, and possibility. One of the places I wandered off to was Broadway. I scraped up pennies and last minute tickets to take in a Broadway Show. My daughter and I caught Gypsy.

Gypsy—the revival—is based on the memoirs of burlesque star Gypsy Rose Lee. Originally adapted by Arthur Laurents, with music by Jule Styne and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, the show first hit Broadway in 1959.

Gypsy follows the struggles of a showbiz mother, Rose, and her two daughters: the sweet, spotlighted June and the awkward Louise. Rose devotes her life to making them stars in a vaudeville world that’s fading fast.

Rose is the ultimate dreamer—the pushiest of mothers, hell-bent on creating success in a season that’s disappearing as quickly as a stripper’s costume.

Gypsy—the cast, the costumes—and especially Audra McDonald—blew us away.

Six-time Tony Award winner, now the most-nominated performer in theater history, Audra stepped into the iconic shoes of Momma Rose—a role made legendary by Ethel Merman, Angela Lansbury, Patti LuPone. And she did it with poise, passion, and a voice that reached the heavens.

For the first time, Rose and her daughters are being played by Black women.

And it feels right.

After all, I grew up with a Mama Rose of my own—down South, with big dreams and high expectations. She had color, attitude, ambition, and love. All of that minus the Gypsy Rose stripping.

And in the legendary Majestic Theatre, we, my daughter and I, took in the chandeliers, the molding, the velvet drapery. The lights dimmed. The orchestra began. And we were swept away—into songs we half-remembered, dances we instinctively tapped to, that wonder that fills you when you let the noise fall away and become part of the show.

This was my daughter first show and she loved every moment.

And sadly, if one doesn’t count off-Broadway shows and church basement productions, this viewing was my first too. I loved it but it’s bittersweet to think of the moments I missed because I chose a different, probably work related path.

And yet I refuse to beat myself up on the Shoulda, would’ve could’ves that befall us. I went with my daughter now. That’s what matters. And as we left we hummed:

Together, Wherever We Go

Wherever we go, whatever we do,

We’re gonna go through it together.

We may not go far, but sure as a star,

Wherever we are, we’re stronger together.

I tweak the lyrics. What can I say, but I’m a writer.

Everything’s Coming Up Roses

I had a dream, a wonderful dream about you.

It’s gonna come true.

They think that we’re through, but…

Nothing’s gonna stop us ‘til we’re through!

Everything’s coming up roses for me and for you!

And now, as I sit on this plane, writing to you, my weekly essay, I hope I’ve passed on something else too.

That it’s okay to take a walk.

That it’s okay to step away from duty, from deadlines, from stress—even just for a few minutes.

That rest and joy are worth chasing just as hard as success.

That it’s okay to fail, as long as we keep dreaming.

My hope is that we all learn to capture that feeling—that joy of being lost in the moment. Of humming. Of strumming our fingers to the rhythm of wonder. Of letting the songs in our soul rise again—when we take care of ourselves.

Even if it’s just with a little walk.

Books that can help you disconnect in meaningful ways are:

Fosse by Sam Wasson

A sweeping biography of Bob Fosse that explores the grind, passion, and price of perfection in the performing arts.

The Women Who Raised Me by Victoria Rowell

Memoir of a actress raised by foster mothers—explores nontraditional maternal love, ambition, and support.

All About Love by bell hooks

This book is about love—for yourself , your children, your lives. This book is the emotional underpinning to a loving journey.

Rest Is Resistance: A Manifesto by Tricia Hersey

Talks about rest as a form of liberation, especially for Black women.

Listen to the album, Sing Happy by Audra McDonald and the NewYork Philharmonic

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

Let’s keep resting and rising together—please like, subscribe to 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

There is a time and a season for everything.The real question is: Are you ready to move?

Right now, it’s a scary time to be a Black creative. Honestly, it’s a scary time for everybody in the arts. I’ve shared in a previous episode how the Canva bots came for me — they told me that the word slavery was political and banned in their system of tools.Banning books is all the rage. Banning concepts or ideas — stopping the writer or artist at the very beginning — is unfathomable.

Vanessa speaking at the Conyers Book Festival.

You might say, “Vanessa, AI and bots are just part of the times.” And yes, there are many great uses for AI in research and algorithmic approaches. But until we figure out how to train AI without stealing from artists and writers, we are going to continue to have a problem.

If you tell me that the season we’re in now involves AI writing novels and creating drawings and graphics to replace artists, I will encourage you to consider the following:Nothing can replace human creativity, authenticity, and zeal.Those impacted by theft or imitation must press boundaries, pursue legal actions when necessary, and most importantly — outlast the wave.Sometimes, winning is simply about longevity.

Outlasting your haters is definitely one way to gain victory.

For those who follow me, I’m Vanessa Riley. I write in three genres: historical fiction, historical romance, and mystery.

Lately, in the book world, I’ve seen so many friends — so many writers like myself who focus on history — getting hurt. Series are being cut short. Book options aren’t being picked up. Doors that were once wide open are now being slammed shut.

The reasons are many:They tell us the market is soft.They whisper there are “enough” Black books now.They say history—the kind that reveals hidden figures and rich, complicated lives—is suddenly being gutted, looted, or dismissed.

For someone like me, who loves history and is just now finding my footing in historical fiction, it’s dark. It’s absolutely terrifying.

The visual arts, films, and TV have also suffered. In January, I heard similar feedback from filmmakers.

Hollywood is still “recovering,” they say.Budgets are tighter. Risk tolerance is low.Historical pieces, they say, are too “hard to place”—too expensive, too niche.

And then—everyone gets dazzled by Ryan Coogler’s Sinners, a historical piece set in the 1930s that genre-bends horror and drama.The film is a hit.

Annie and Smoke from the Movie Sinners shot by Eli Joshua.

At the time of this podcast, Sinners has grossed over $161 million and is now projected to gross between $300–400 million. A diverse audience of moviegoers—Black, White, Asian, and more—people from all walks of life are coming together to experience this masterpiece of storytelling.

Ryan Coogler, I salute you. You had a daring vision, found or created the systems and opportunities to execute it, and made magic.

Now is the time of opportunity.

We have to shake off our fears and create.We must figure out new ways to tell the stories burning in our souls.To innovate. To evolve. That is pathFinding way through the wilderness is the answer.

Sinners showed us the way—not just by being excellent in storytelling, photography, cinematography, and research—but by knowing exactly who the story was for.

Ryan and his team pushed the right buttons—the necessary buttons. The heart of the film is Black-centered storytelling: Jim Crow South, inclusivity, and vampires.

Because when you know who you’re speaking to and what you want to say, you don’t have to dilute the truth to make it palatable.

As a Black creative, I’ve often been pressured to center pain and trauma in my stories—because that is what some believe (and still desire) is what sells.

Ryan Coogler’s Sinners proves that de-escalating trauma works.It sells.Even in the scariest genres.

He took care in how the story was told.Care in how every scene was shot.Care in the research, the respect.

He cast with authenticity—from hair to skin to clothes to dialogue.He didn’t slap diversity on just for clout—the script lived it.

To succeed only by limiting our stories to an audience that believes in our humanity through our suffering is inexcusable.

We must push boundaries, push different buttons.And I believe it is our mission to find new ways to share the lessons of the past—without reducing ourselves to victims or spectacles.

And if Sinners has taught us anything, it’s this:Audiences will reward care.They will reward newness.They will reward stories told with humanity, dignity, and love.

When I first started writing, my mission was simple:Educate the world about the history of Black people across the diaspora.Show our humanity through love stories.

But missions shift with the seasons.Right now? For me—and this pen or keyboard—it’s time to move, to be more daring, to try new approaches to story.

Looking back, I know there were times I softened words, edited scenes, chose tenderness over rawness—because I wanted to make sure readers were comfortable.I wanted the message to reach as many as possible.And I don’t regret the stories I told. I’m proud of every one of them.

But the filter is gone now.And here’s the hard truth:If you still need convincing of my humanity in 2025, I say this with all respect—You probably aren’t going to get it.Keep your coins.Find your own Damascus road.You need divine intervention.

I’m not St. Peter.I’m not standing at the gate any longer, waiting to explain myself—or my people—to you.If you want my knowledge, you’re going to have to do the work yourself.

This new season? This new phase?My stories will be as unapologetic and as free as they’ve ever been.

Because I am a storyteller.And with that comes a duty:To honor my people.To carry the sagas of our ancestors.To bridge the distance from “over yonder” and back to “right here.”

Of course, I want everyone to feel welcome reading my books.I understand I live in a system I didn’t build—but I’m here, and I intend to win.

But my stories?They’re for my people.

And if you’re still listening, you are my people.I write for you.I labor for you.I see you.

I’m ready to move and adjust.And I will be your guide—to happy-ever-after, happy-for-now, or to some bigger definition of freedom and faith. What say you?

What say you?

Some books to guide you in your quest for more authentic storytelling:

“We Do This ‘Til We Free Us” by Mariame Kaba — Essays on abolition and hope, but also about how storytelling and imagination drive social change.

“Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds” by adrienne maree brown — A guide to embracing change and creativity rooted in community and freedom.

And now some fiction titles:

“The Prophets” by Robert Jones Jr. — A deeply poetic novel about Black love and resistance set during slavery but centered on love and humanity, not suffering.

“Bloodchild and Other Stories” by Octavia Butler — Speculative short stories about survival, community, and power dynamics.

“Ring Shout” by P. Djèlí Clark — A daring, genre-bending novel mixing horror, history, and Black resistance during the Jim Crow era (very much like Sinners).

“Island Queen” by Vanessa Riley — A real-life figure’s story told with dignity, richness, and depth.

Show notes are here. This week, I’m highlighting East City Bookshop through their website and Bookshop.org

You can find my notes on history and writing on my website, VanessaRiley.com.

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