We all want to belong.

Whether it’s for our intellect, our stance, or even our looks, we yearn to be chosen—for who we are, or for who we might become.

We hope for a fair assessment of our gifts, talents, hard work, and ethics.

So when we’re overlooked, dismissed, or flat-out ignored, it hurts. It feeds our doubts. When it’s pervasive, it claws at our pride like eagles’ talons, stripping us down until there’s nothing left but scabs.

We smile. We send off polite emails and make gracious calls, pretending it doesn’t matter. We lift our chins and say, “You are not worthy of my time—or even my presence.”

But in secret, we ache. We bleed anew—reliving the cost of the blood, sweat, and tears it took to get here. We question ourselves. What else could I have done? Who did I offend? Where is that sense of American bravado—the belief that if I build it, they will come?

In publishing, this ache to belong is ever-present. Facing rejection after rejection, often without a clear reason, cuts deeply. A “no” in publishing doesn’t always come with feedback. Sometimes it just means you’re stuck in midlist limbo. When opportunities vanish, imprints dissolve, or priorities shift, you’re left holding an unwanted manuscript and a pile of broken promises.

At the Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance New Voices New Rooms Conference, I listened to keynote speaker Silas House—a New York Times bestselling author and winner of two Nautilus Awards—say something that struck deeply:“There are many ways to burn books (that don’t require matches)—one of them is by denying them space, visibility, and readers.”

Sometimes rejection doesn’t come as a loud no. Sometimes it’s silence. Unanswered emails. Delays. Misdirection. But even a quiet “no” is still a no. And it shapes your experience. It can limit you.

Quiet no’s make it hard to trust. Even future yes’s become suspect.

Every author dreams of a beautiful cover that captures the soul of their story. We long for an editor’s offer that affirms our voice. We want a marketing and sales team working in partnership with us to push our books into the hands of hundreds, thousands—maybe millions.

So no, it’s not enough to just get a book deal. We want a seat at the table. Because a publishing contract without editorial support, marketing strategy, or visibility often isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.

It’s like being proposed to with a ring, but instead of a grand wedding with a 25-foot train of lace and sequins, you’re rushed to City Hall under gray skies, muttering quick vows with no photos to prove it ever happened.

Fire Sword and Sea is my 29th book. While that’s a triumph worth celebrating, it’s also a sobering reminder of what I’ve learned—the good, the bad, and the anemic.

Silas House also said, “Artists from gated places have to act as role models.” And from my experience, I’ll tell you this: you are worth courting. You’re not a cheap date. When access is limited, our very presence becomes defiance. Our work becomes resistance.

Our words—through books, essays, podcasts—speak truth to power. Our stories are meant to light the dark.

At that same conference, Angie Thomas and Nic Stone joined the conversation. Two beautiful authors, who it seems, some want to take their seats away. They referenced Beyoncé, who said: “Never ask for permission for something that belongs to you.”

That’s the truth at the heart of this essay.

We’ve been asking for a seat—as if our worth needs outside validation. As if we need permission to matter.

Stop asking. Stop waiting.

You already built your chair—with your words, your work, your presence. You’ve earned your place.

Yes, we want a public seat. It’s about power, visibility, and the right to shape the narrative. I get that, but I challenge you to claim your worth, understand you have built your chair with your work, and that you have the right to sit without asking anyone for permission.

Books to help you recognize your chair:

A Parchment of Leaves – Silas House

Silas House’s A Parchment of Leaves (2002) is a beautifully rendered novel about Appalachian life, loyalty, and cultural dislocation.

Dear Martin – Nic Stone

Nic Stone’s Dear Martin is a powerful, unflinching novel that explores race, identity, and justice through the eyes of a Black teen who begins writing letters to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. after a traumatic encounter.

The Hate U Give – Angie Thomas

Angie Thomas’s breakout debut The Hate U Give (2017) centers on Starr Carter, who bridges two worlds and finds her voice amid systemic injustice.

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

Hope you love the cover of Fire Sword and Sea—Help me build momentum for this historical fiction. Please spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about lady 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.

If you’re ready to move with purpose and power, hit that like button and subscribe to Write of Passage. Never miss a moment. We have work to do. Let me help recharge you.

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

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

I don’t know about you, but I have a drawer of knickknacks and half-finished projects—remnants of ideas and good intentions.

In my bathroom vanity, tucked behind a beautiful brass knob, there’s a special drawer. At first glance, it might seem like a treasure trove.

Once, maybe it was. But now? It’s a collection of brokenness. Broken glass. Broken jewelry. Missing sequins. And, perhaps, broken dreams.

Each piece ended up in this drawer because, at some point, I told myself I would fix it. That I would find the time to reattach that clasp, that I’d discover the match to that one clip-on earring I adore, or maybe I’d give a piece new life because this pendant is so sentimental.

But I haven’t.

And now the drawer is full.

Not with treasure, but with intentions—intentions that have long expired.

To be very honest, some of these items are truly beyond repair.

The joint on a bracelet has snapped off completely. The solder that once held it together disintegrated. And yet I kept it. Because maybe—just maybe—I’ll fix it one day. That’s the tease or lie, I tell myself.

And to date, I fixed maybe two or three things. I should be honest with myself when I’m not ready to let go.

That drawer is not a shrine of hope. It’s a graveyard of the dream deferred. It’s filled with delays and avoidance. As an author it’s a drawer of nice stories that I’m afraid to finish.

I think a lot of us are carrying real and metaphorical drawers like this through our lives.

We hold onto broken relationships, deflated dreams, abandoned goals. We carry them from space to space, boxing them up when we move, adding more to this draw year after year, when our plans change and haven’t the guts or desire to say goodbye out loud.

Truthly, I need to stop deluding myself. I’m not going to fix everything in this drawer.

There’s a difference between hope and baggage and that is a line called passion.

If you look closely at your time, your money, your energy they go to what you are passionate about.

They aligned with what you actually want?

If you feel there’s a disconnect between your vision and your investments, fix it. Otherwise That gap, that distance between what we want and what believe we want will fester into brokenness.

I wear clip-on earrings. Napier, Monet, Anne Klein are some favorites. And when I really like them, I will sometimes by duplicates of the same style. It sort of insurance, telling myself I have a backup in case I lose one. But that’s really just another excuse to keep piling excess into the drawer. The results are more broken pieces. More delays.

We all have excuses. And some of them are pretty good. As an author I can write some great excuses on why I’m filling up this space.

Yet, I need to accept that I’m weigh myself down. And whether it’s a literal drawer or an emotional one, we only have so much room.

So here’s my challenge to you—and to myself:

Go through your drawer. Literally and metaphorically. Sort through what’s there. Ask:

• Is this worth fixing?

• Do I want to invest the time to fix it?

• Is this taking up space where something whole and life-giving could live?

If you haven’t kept your word and fixed it in six months, let it go. Give it away, recycle it, or be brave and throw it out.

Here’s the truth that I have to accept. That draw of broken pieces is a mirror. And I don’t like what I see when I dig inside.

I’d rather the drawer be filled intention and joy. I’d rather it hold onto laughter, and good memories, and wholeness. I don’t want to leave behind a bunch of hot mess of pieces that no one understands or values when I had the power to clear it out and make room for better things.

Taking action:

That’s how we heal.

That’s how we move forward.

That’s how we create space for joy and new dreams.

Give yourself grace.

Give yourself freedom.

Throw out the broken pieces.

You deserve better. I’m rooting for us.

Books to get us through these moments:

Failures of Forgiveness: What We Get Wrong and How to Do Better by Myisha Cherry. It challenges our pressures to fix, offering a powerful reminder that sometimes, true healing begins by choosing not to repair what was never whole to begin with.

On Repentance and Repair by Danya Ruttenberg reframes the impulse to “fix” broken things—not through nostalgia or delay, but by naming harm, doing the work of transformation and restitution.

Village Weavers by Myriam J. A. Chancy illuminates how friendships, histories, and generational wounds can fracture and later reveal pathways to reconnection. Chancy reminds us that sometimes we must face the secrets we’ve kept tucked away, choosing what we rebuild and what we release.

This time I’m going to recommend an album: The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill is a testament to transforming personal brokenness, relational rupture, and societal pressures into a narrative of healing and self-reclamation.

This week, I’m highlighting Reparations Club Bookstore through their website and Bookshop.org

The cover for Fire Sword and Sea is here—and I love it! Three souls looking in different directions having each other’s back perfectly captures the spirit of these women pirates-bold brave and free of the 1600s.

Fire Sword and Sea – This sweeping saga, releasing January 13, 2026, follows fearless women who defied the world order and seized power on the high seas.

Preorders are now live! Visit my website for links to retailers big and small. Help spread the word. Share the adventure!

Show notes include a list of the books and album 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 a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe

“Some will love you, some will hate you. It’s the yin and yang of life. In a way, it makes it a beautiful journey of discovering and loving who you are. Haters, well, the worst they can do is hate. So I’m consciously ‘living life like it’s platinum.’ And when the haters come around, I’ll be like Teflon.”—MJW

That’s a quote signed Mally Mal, who most knew as Malcolm-Jamal Warner—the beloved actor and director who was taken from us on July 20th. At 54, Malcolm-Jamal was still a young man with more to give.

I was on that hot mess platform, sneaking around looking for my British feeds and Love Island Edits. Why can’t I seem to quit that platform? Then news hit of the tragedy. For once, for a solid hour, my feed had nothing but quotes from Jamal’s peers—celebrating his life, championing his work and work ethic. Others expressed shock and sent love to his family.

It was an amazing, eerie thing to see this hot trash social feed be human. I think that’s Malcom-Jamal’s final miracle. People from all perspectives, from different political backgrounds, all ages—those who first saw Malcom-Jamal as Theo on their TVs growing up or caught him in streaming reruns—it was a love fest, a verbal and pictorial purge.

And before that moment is lost on us, I just want to take another second to think of his other gifts.Did you know Malcolm-Jamal was also a poet?

In January 2024, a video of his TED Talk was posted to YouTube of him performing one of his poems:“Vulnerability is My Superpower.”

The man we knew as Theo—the actor, the director who did everything from the New Edition video for Heart Break to TV episodes like Season 8 of the Cosby Show, Episode 147 “Vanessa’s Big Fun” (if YKYK)—yes that Malcom-Jamal gave a TED Talk that, in this superhero-seeking world, stands out:Vulnerability is my superpower.

He stepped up on the stage and quoted:

“Vulnerability.Can be a scary thing even when we’re on the mend.Black boys boast bravado, not to seem broken, and often so do Black men.I see you. Looking for clues. Listening for cues.Longing to know what I’m not telling you. As if I’m hiding in plain view.My most intimate thoughts belong to me. Like a woman’s body when she says no.So I reserve the right to go as far as I like.Because though I live in the public eye,I don’t subscribe to the dog and pony show.For I have learned to discern who cannot accept all of me.”—MJW

That was the quality I saw in Malcolm-Jamal’s acting. His presence defied toxic masculinity. It surged with quiet pride and gave us something raw—the boy next door, the smile that sits with ease.

For those of us who write romance, that is the magic we want on the page for our heroes—someone who’s fighting the fight on the outside, but when he is with the one he loves, we see respect and vulnerability.

Malcolm-Jamal was a musician, too. One with range.

On his last album, in his song “Selfless,” he writes:

“It’s a piece about finding my voice, being comfortable in my own skin, and not being ruled by other people’s opinion of me. It’s a tricky place to be because, as an artist, what people think about you and your art is an important part of connecting to your audience and therefore, your success. However, living your life trying to please everyone else is not living.”

That is a difficult ballad—to think about the definitions of success. Especially as a writer, or any type of creator, you need someone to like your work. When you’re a Black creator, you need somebody to champion and sing your praises because doors often close, heat comes from nowhere, and everyone is looking for a scandal to make some part of their mind say it was deserved, it was right for some negative attribution.

It gets very difficult to walk in the light—to be light—when everyone seeks to dim it.

Malcolm-Jamal knew this tension.His praises are being sung because he found his way.

On that TED stage, he concluded:

“Vulnerability is cool.It is strength. It still allows you to be a man,and vulnerability offers the greatest gift.It allows you to open up to yourself and love yourself.Because the most important thing, the most important thing,is the simple belief that you are enough.And as I stand here in the power of my own vulnerability,I am telling you—you are enough.Imagine. Just imagine what you could give to the world and what the world would see in you if you were no longer hiding in plain view.”

Poetry works out those demons—the things that torture the soul.Dear readers, writers, creators—I need you to be poets.I need you to work out everything in your soul so that when it is your time, people can remember that the life you lived was about your gifts, not your flaws.

That you spoke truth with joy and yes, vulnerability.And that every time you stepped up on stage, people could see the bright light in you.

For you have light.We just need to be brave enough to let it shine.

Thank you, Mally Mal, for your legacy of words and images.

My prayers and love go out to Malcolm-Jamal Warner’s family, friends, and fans.

Books to get us through these moments:

Milk and Honey by Rupi KaurWhile not specifically grief‑focused, its emotional themes of loss and self‑love will resonate and help readers processing pain and survival.

Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute by Talia Hibbert – This is a young adult rivals forced together, slowly letting guards down, and discovering depth and compassion.

The Hookup Plan by Farrah Rochon – A playful, steamy enemies-to-lovers romance that evolves into something tender and emotionally grounded. Think Theo grown up following in his doctor dad’s shoes but messy.

The Love Lyric by Kristina Forest is a tender, slow-burn romance between a widowed single mother and an emotionally available R&B singer that beautifully explores grief, healing, and second chance love.

This week, I’m highlighting Turning Page Bookshop 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.

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