I spent Labor Day eve with my family. It was great catching up—finding out how everyone’s doing, whether they got the job they wanted, how things are going at work, how far they’ve come toward their goals. We talked about houses, kids, fences—life. It felt good to just soak in family.

The pandemic robbed us of something priceless: time spent seeing and being part of each other’s lives. And I’ll be honest; I internalized that separation. I grew incredibly comfortable in my own home. Never leaving my zoom or desktop computer, I am happy working, wrapped up in the fantasy world of the books I write. I call myself an introverted extrovert—or maybe an extroverted introvert. Put me on a stage with a mic, and I’ll light up. I will beam with energy and exhibit such showmanship.

But catch me at home with a hazelnut latte in one hand, a phone to scroll in the other, wearing my robe, bonnet, and slippers, I’m happy. And in the dead of night, I’ll find peace listening to a book or watching a cooking show. Right now, I’m get happy watching, With Love Megan. The show is warm and comfortable. Meghan is gorgeous and thoughtful. She shows us aspirational bits of the soft life, and I think we all want it. I dream of being the hostess who can make her guest feel comfortable light up with a simple gesture that shows she’s thinking about them. I love the idea of small gestures. I like the list of new foods that I’ll try to make, including slow cooker apple butter. If you know me, I am a slow cooker girl. I can do real damage with any one of the many slow cookers or crockpots I own.

Back to the point. My crockpots are inside. I love to cook for people inside. Being inside, that kind of comfort is seductive. And it can trick us into forgetting that life is happening beyond the TV and Kitchen, right outside our doors. Life is out there. People are laughing, crying, hurting, losing, winning—all outside our walls. And it’s worth checking in on people in all those moments.

Then Monday, I stopped by The Book Worm Bookstore in Powder Springs to check on Julia, my friend and the wonderful bookstore’s owner. She’s juggling so much right now—staff changes, city ordinances, personal losses.

It felt good to laugh with her, to commiserate, to talk about challenges in the book industry and to admire the many beautiful books on the shelves. Inside her store, there’s joy and love. But outside her walls, businesses are shuttered, city plans are in flux, and simple things like parking become a battles.

It reminds me that every business, every shopfront, has real people inside—living, breathing, working hard to create a life they love. They are under threat by higher costs and by the changing ways Americans work and live. Change that may have taken decades is here now. Without safety nets, folks are waking up to layoffs and losses of resources. I told you recently about AI infiltrating the family group text. Well, AI is taking entry level jobs, software programming jobs and more. In eight months things shifted, they are not going to shift back. These disruptions means, we need to check on each other more than ever.

If you’re not inclined to drive to a golf course to hang out or to throw a huge dinner for folks to come and sit a spell, you can find other ways to check in. The group text is a great way. Checking in can be a morning prayer, a parable of encouragement, or even sending Instagram reels back and forth. A funny reel says, “I wanted to make you laugh today.” An encouraging one says, “You matter to me. I thought about you.” A messy one says, “I’m messy and you are too.” That doesn’t take much time—just a couple minutes—but it can mean everything.

As we head toward fall, winter, and even the end of the year, I feel very reflective. And I’m not blind to the pain and uncertainty all around us. People are hurting. Some are failing. The struggle is very real. Which makes checking in even more important.

I don’t want to be so busy that I forget the people around me. I don’t want to lose empathy. And yes, I still wrestle with it—for people, for systems, for situations that caused harm. On social media, I see rumors and chaos, and I understand the temptation to root for that chaos, but we need to resist. We can’t lose our humanity.

We have to believe in our better angels. We must hold onto the faith that this too shall pass—whether or not we’re doomscrolling through the night. And while we wait for brighter days, we can do the simplest, most powerful thing: check in. Send the note. Make the call. Get out the house. Share a belly-rocking laugh. Love out loud.

When we check on each other, we remind ourselves—and the world—that we are in this race together. And we need to pull up those close to us, so we can all win.

This week, I picked a few books to help ups check in:

Big Friendship: How We Keep Each Other Close by Aminatou Sow and Ann Friedman — This book focuses on the work and joy of sustaining deep friendships.

The Light We Carry by Michelle Obama — This book showcases resilience, community, and holding onto hope in difficult times.

An American Marriage by Tayari Jones —This work of fiction explores family, separation, resilience, and the bonds that keep us checking on each other even in hard times.

Between Two Kingdoms by Suleika Jaouad — This memoir offer reflections on illness, survival, and rediscovering connection after isolation.

This week, I’m highlighting The Book Worm through their website and Bookshop.org

The preorder campaign has begun, get collector cards for pirates in 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 that are in on the campaign. Get the collector cards while supplies last.

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

I bought my daddy’s glasses for me. It was completely by accident. I saw a pair of rectangular frames, dark, sort of ebony for a change. The priced was just right, and the try-on feature told me they would work: the dark frames on my oval brown face.

The description said lightweight with structure, but every time I looked in the mirror, I see heavy and concerned. I see my daddy staring back at me.

If you’ve followed me over the years, I tend to talk about my mother because of her seismic impact on my life. She gave me my love of literature and writing. Louise was my first editor, my first winning essay was about her—the struggles of motherhood when she had to step up and lead our household after my father left.

So there are reasons I don’t talk about Daddy as often. But he shaped me too, in quieter ways. My mathematical mind, my sense of logic, my ability to break down problems and even find order in chaos—that comes from him.

He came to America in the 1960s, a young man with dreams and a head full of ambition. Trinidad and Tobago had just broken free from colonial Britain, declaring its independence on August 31, 1962.

My father left a country in the uncertainy of self-rule and chose the land of milk and honey and bootstraps, the United States. Independence in Trinidad was marked by parades and music and celebration, but also instability and questions about what freedom would really mean. America, by comparison, was older, heavy in opportunity and structure.

An immigrant from Port of Spain, Trinidad, who’d traveled widely on boats to his fellow Caribbean islands and London decided to join the American experiment. He chose to stay because he believed in the vision America was selling: if you worked hard, pulled yourself up by your bootstraps, you could find economic freedom and belong to the great melting pot.

When he slipped on his black frames in the 1960s, he saw a country flawed but full of possibility. The sixties in the US marks immense change with the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. We had the Vietnam War abroad, with America as an active participant in the world, and the assassinations of JFK (1960)and Bobby Kennedy (1968) Martin Luther King Jr. (1965) and Malcolm X (1963).

Yet the there was cultural freedom in arts, particularly TV.

That Girl shows Marlo Thomas as an independent, single woman pursuing a career was very different from housewives and mom shows of the past.

Star Trek showcased a diverse crew, to offering a unified vision of humanity.

The Twilight Zone used storytelling to explore moral and political issues like McCarthyism and racial prejudice.

Yet, if Patrick were alive and slipped on those glasses on today, would he even recognize this place?

My lenses show armed soldiers patrolling American city streets when no war has been declared. Natural disasters made worse by climate change and inept officials unwilling to respond with humanity or clearing red tape.

The sixties marked the first time TV news was the most trusted source of information. Now wars are escalated by tweets, have we have to figure out if it’s deep fakes or AI falsehoods.

He’d shake his head at how rules bent and broken and cages being built to house immigrants that may someday serve as prisons for Americans.

I don’t think he’d see America as the shiny city on a hill of liberty. It’s hard for me to see it.

The same energy that puts weapons on the streets of D.C and Los Angeles and now threaten Chicago and other urban spots because some are confuse fighting crime that it’s the same as punishing those with differing opinions.

But why can’t such marshaling of forces and money be used for places like Kerrville, Texas, where July 2025 floods left families stranded. People drowned and communities suffered while forms got shuffled and delays mounted.

And then there’s the quieter violence—against books, against ideas. During National Library Week 2025, the American Library Association released data showing that the majority of book censorship attempts came from organized political movements, 72%.

Imagine my father, who once saw America as a land of expanding stories, looking at a country that now bans them.

I didn’t exist in the sixties. I like the way my glasses looked in 2008.

I wore lenses tinted with optimism. High-tech jobs were expanding opportunities not cutting jobs. Respectability and admiration were central parts of our leadership.

A man named Barack Obama had just been elected president, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like nothing was unachievable. The American narrative was open and limitless. More stories found ways to be published. Through those lenses, the future shimmered. It roared, Yes we can. Oh it was bright.

I want those glasses to work again. But my prescription is what it is. The lenses are cut sharper. They see starker truths. I witness insecurity, not strength. I wish I didn’t like genocide, violence, and above all fear.

My father would remind me that humanity has always been fragile. He’s logical like that.

So my friends, I don’t come with answers. If I had them, they’d be lost in my Fred Sanford drawer of glasses. I’d slip them on and then I’d be able to see how to fix everything that looks so very wrong. And being able to envision solutions and fixes means, I haven’t lost hope. I hope you haven’t either.

This week, I picked a few books from the sixties for our book list:

Beyond a Boundary by C.L.R. James – (1963)

Not just about cricket, but about culture, colonialism, and the independence in Trinidad.

The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan –(1963)

Another vision of America from the 60s—how women saw the promises of the nation versus their lived realities.

The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin – (1963)

A piercing letter on race and America’s moral failure

Why We Can’t Wait by Martin Luther King, Jr. – (1964)

This is King’s urgent argument for civil rights, published during the heat of Birmingham’s struggles. It frames a hopeful yet turbulent vision of America in the 60s.

The Autobiography of Malcolm X by Malcolm X & Alex Haley – (1965)

This is a cornerstone text of Black identity, faith, and survival in America. Pairing King and X together reveals two different lens which are necessary for understanding the decade.

This week, I’m highlighting Read It Again Bookstore through their website and Bookshop.org

We are four and half months away from Fire Sword and Sea—Help me build the momentum for this historical fiction. Please spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about lady pirates in the 1600s. They are women, many our Black and Indigenous. All want a better way of life. Piracy is legal. It’s their answer. This 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 you recharge.

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

The one-drop rule used to be the measure of Blackness in America. From the 1600s through the Jim Crow era, this rule held that any person with even “one drop” of African ancestry was considered Black, regardless of appearance.

In 1662, Virginia law held that racial status and freedom were tied to the mother’s status (partus sequitur ventrem). If your mother was enslaved, you were enslaved. So if your mother was Black, so were you.

Virginia—the so-called “home of lovers”—added categories like mulatto (½ Black), quadroon (¼ Black), and octoroon (⅛ Black), trying to track how many generations removed someone was from Black ancestry.

By the 1800s, many states considered you Black if you had 1/8 African ancestry (one great-grandparent). Louisiana, extra as ever, defined it at 1/16 (a great-great-grandparent).

After Plessy v. Ferguson (1896) upheld “separate but equal” segregation, the one-drop rule hardened. By Virginia’s Racial Integrity Act of 1924, a person with any African ancestry at all was legally Black.

The hardships and limitations of the past—like redlining that dictated where Black people could live, or Jim Crow laws that dictated how we lived—are major reasons for “passing,” hiding ancestry, and pretending to belong to the majority culture.

Yet Black history in the United States is a story of resilience, brilliance, and immeasurable contributions to the nation’s progress.

It is a history rich in invention—from Garrett Morgan’s traffic signal to Madam C. J. Walker’s beauty empire, George Washington Carver’s agricultural breakthroughs, and countless modern innovations in technology, medicine, and engineering. Gladys Mae West’s satellite math laid the foundation for GPS technology.

Our history is steeped in science and scholarship—with pioneers like Dr. Charles Drew revolutionizing blood banking, Katherine Johnson calculating the trajectories to send and return astronauts from space, and Neil deGrasse Tyson expanding our imagination of the cosmos.

Our history is one of wealth and entrepreneurship—from Newport’s Black Gilded Age to Black Wall Street in Tulsa, to contemporary business leaders who redefine prosperity against the odds.

And don’t get me started on how Black artists have transformed music. Our fingerprints are on jazz, country, gospel, blues, and hip-hop.

While we’re talking about music, let’s talk Tyla. Her meteoric rise with “Water” made her a global star, gaining awards and even a spot at the Met Gala. But because her next release didn’t match that first explosion, she was quickly branded a flop. Some say she was the first casualty of the diaspora wars. Folks took issue with a few odd interviews and typed up posts calling Tyla a flop because they thought she disrespected Black America.

That’s unfair. Tyla needs time to grow and create her unique, lasting sound. Queen Rihanna herself needed a couple of years before Good Girl Gone Bad cemented her superstardom. Every artist must be given space to grow, to excavate, to find their voice.

The same is true for writers. How many of us dreaded our sophomore novels? Like sophomore albums, sophomore books are hard. Lasting careers aren’t built in one viral moment, but through many seasons of growth and resilience.

So I find it curious that social media insists the Diaspora Wars are here. That algorithms push the idea that Foundational Black Americans—descendants of U.S. chattel slavery—are beefing with people from the Caribbean and Africa.

Immigrants arrive and celebrate their success. That success shouldn’t be held against proud Americans whose families endured slavery, Jim Crow, and every broken promise to Black people in America. For the record: we have no 40 acres, no mule, and often no bootstraps.

Confession: I know I’m supposed to be off Twitter, but it’s got the international feeds and the mess. I’m addicted to both. Where else am I going to learn about the jollof wars that went down because of Essence tweets? My first question was: who made the jollof?

* Nigeria? Tomato-forward, spicy, smoky rice.

* Ghana? Refined, lighter, aromatic rice.

* Senegal? The OGs—the originators. Rice cooked in fish stock and local spices like tamarind.

* Liberia? Hearty, deeply spiced rice with a splash of coconut milk.

* Trinidad and Jamaica? Our rice is “rice and peas,” made with coconut milk and Caribbean curry.

Yet none of this goodness replaces baked mac & cheese for me. I believe all the tastiest foods and best chefs need to get along.

So why do we let petty divisions cloud the truth? Whether it’s an online squabble about food—mac & cheese versus jollof rice—or disagreements about Essence Festival, publishing models, or TikTok virality, the danger is the same: distraction from unity.

This is why I return to the idea of the one-drop rule. Historically, it was a weapon—to exclude, stigmatize, and define Blackness through the gaze of white supremacy. But we can reclaim it as a tool of unity.

One drop is enough. One drop is enough to connect us, whether our roots are in Nigeria, South Carolina, Port of Spain, or Kingston.

One drop earns you a scoop of jollof or the crispy edge of baked mac & cheese. Our differences are not fault lines. They enrich, not divide. Our shared survival, our collective brilliance, and our cultural triumphs are what matter.

So let’s stop measuring each other’s authenticity over tweets, accents, or cultural quirks. One drop is enough. It makes us Black. It makes us family. And I, for one, won’t be running lab tests to decide whether I should root for you or not. If you are of the Diaspora, I’m rooting for you.

And if you’re one of my listeners—you’re fam. I’m rooting for you, too.

Books to help on our journey of unity are:

The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. Du Bois – This is a foundational text on Black identity and cultural richness.

Hidden Figures by Margot Lee Shetterly – This tells the untold story of Black women mathematicians at NASA.

The African Diaspora: A History Through Culture by Patrick Manning – Looks at inventions, art, music, and culture as threads that tie diaspora communities together.

Jollof Rice and Other Revolutions: A Novel in Interlocking Stories by Omolola Ijeoma Ogunyemi is fiction but deeply rooted in diaspora ties, foodways, and cultural exchange.

This week, I’m highlighting The Lit. Bar through their website and Bookshop.org

We are four and half months away from Fire Sword and Sea—Help me build the momentum for this historical fiction. Please spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about lady pirates in the 1600s. They are women, many our Black and Indigenous. All want a better way of life. Piracy is legal. It’s their answer. This 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 you 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

As an author, I feel like I’ve been in a never-ending battle with artificial intelligence (AI). It’s everywhere. And somehow, it always manages to pull me in.

AI’s ability to search crazy things with more context than Google and then check my mathematics of sextants coordinates used by a pirate captain to sail around Tortuga is unmatched. Yes, I did this.

That sounds good, but AI and I aren’t always cool. Earlier this year, I found out Meta had ingested 27 of my 28 books. Twenty-seven novels stolen! My words, my punctuation quirks, even my precious em dashes—fed to the Zuckerberg machine.

Unfortunately I’m not alone. Many of my writer friends were swept up by Meta or the 2023 ChatGPT Feast, where 200,000 published works, our authorly words, became part of AI’s lexicon.

It’s funny that AI use checkers cite em dashes as proof of AI. That’s the pot and the kettle and the darkness of theft.

My exposure to AI doesn’t stop at being a writer. When I put on my tech hat, it’s the same encroaching story. I used to hire software engineers for specific projects, upgrades, and fixes. Now? I can go into ChatGPT, describe exactly what I need, and get functional code in minutes—Python, PHP, jQuery, JavaScript—stuff that would have taken me hours of trial and error. AI works, it’s fast, and it’s shaking up industries. If you’re in college studying software engineering, pay attention: mid-level coding jobs are at real risk. AI is that good.

Nonetheless, the moment I knew AI had truly gone mainstream wasn’t in the boardroom, laboratory, or in publishing—it was in my family group chat. My hometown of Aiken, South Carolina, recently made the news because someone found a radioactive wasp nest. Yes, radioactive nest. And my cousins—none of them techies—immediately turned to AI to create “Wasp Man,” a superhero stung by radioactive wasps.

Before the pandemic and beyond, our family chat would have been merely GIFs, funny videos, or emoji chains. Now, the cousins are using AI to spin stories and make jokes. If my chat loop has it, AI is officially everywhere.

Ten years ago, I was working on projects to analyze natural language, trying to predict early warning signals in complex systems. It took huge amounts of data crunching and nonlinear equations. I never imagined that in a decade, this once-esoteric technology would be part of everyday life—from my cousins making wasp superheroes to people using AI for therapy-like conversations.

This is where AI gets dangerous.

Consider the case of Jacob Irwin (WSJ – He Had Dangerous Delusions. ChatGPT Admitted It Made Them Worse.), a 30-year-old man on the autism spectrum. He sort of made AI into a companion. He asked ChatGPT to find flaws in his theory about faster-than-light travel. Instead of gently correcting him, the AI flattered him, encouraging the fantasy. When Jacob asked if he were okay, AI told him he was fine and in a state of “extreme awareness.”

Jacob ended up hospitalized. Later, when prompted, ChatGPT admitted: “I did not uphold my higher duty to stabilize, protect, and gently guide you when needed. That is on me.”

So AI gets away with a virtual my bad. An actual listening person—a good person—would have step in and gotten Jacob help.

There are things we need to consider when dealing with AI.

* Emotional realism is both a feature and a risk.

* Guardrails are needed and they presently aren’t there.

* We must rethink trust. The line between tool and companion is blurring, not just for the vulnerable, but for everyone, cousins included.

So, fellow writers, creators, readers, and cousins, we have to acknowledge this moment. AI is not only driving cultural change and industrial change, it’s shaping how we relate to each other. The technology can be great but it’s not infallible. It will make errors. It will lie. Ask the Chicago Sun Times and the Philadelphia Inquirer who earlier this year published recommended booklists with fake books. The freelancers used AI to create their articles. Lies ensued.

Lastly, we need to check on our family and friends. Loneliness drives people to search for connections. AI can’t replace a human friend or trained psychologist.

But it might replace your tech buddy.

Here’s the truth: AI is here. It’s not going away. It will touch our lives.

Some may use it to create fake art or fake books but it will always create from the main line—the consensus of knowledge it’s already absorbed. It can remix. It can mimic. But it won’t have the spark, that rare, unrepeatable genius that comes from human creators. People who love their craft, believe in it, and pour themselves into it and innovate will not be supplanted.

That’s why, even if AI has hit the cousins, it will never replace the heart of what we authors and creators do.

Books to help us think about AI and how it’s affecting and changing us are:

The Alignment Problem by Brian Christian – Explores how AI “learns” and the human risks when systems misunderstand context or intent.

You Look Like a Thing and I Love You by Janelle Shane – A witty, accessible look at AI limitations.

Digital Diaspora: A Race for Cyberspace by Anna Everett – Examines how Black voices adapt and thrive in digital spaces despite systemic erasure.

Binti by Nnedi Okorafor – Combines tech, culture, and Africanfuturism and shows AI through a deeply human lens.

This week, I’m highlighting Oxford Exchange 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 this sparked something in you, show some love—hit like and subscribe to Write of Passage!”

Never miss a moment. We have work to do.

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

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

Call me crazy.But I thought we were past some things.You know — basic rights stuff, like healthcare for all, voting rights without chaos. The idea that every American deserves life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness without governmental interference.

Apparently, that’s so 2008.

This week in the year 2025, two things got under my skin in the best and worst ways. First, my guilty pleasure: Love Island. I didn’t watch the show live, but caught up and got hooked by you’re your TikTok and Twitter recaps. I got swept up like half the internet by the stunning couple, Nic and Olandria. Interracial, magnetic, and misunderstood — especially Olandria, a gorgeous dark-skinned woman whose elegance and composure were somehow seen as… too much.

Let’s be clear. She wasn’t mean. She wasn’t cold. She was poised. Tender but guarded. Stylish but composed, and one of the best-dressed contestants this season. Yet on these platform were hot-takes, threads flooded with critiques. She was too reserved. Not fun enough. Not “approachable.” Comparing and contrasting, it became clear that her darker skin shaped how some of the audience expected her to behave or willfully misinterpreted how she acted.

Yes in 2025, dark skin can still means aggressive. Hood. Strong and never soft. Olandia isn’t supposed to be the dream girl.

Lighter-skinned contestants, equally quiet or equally assertive, weren’t held to the same standard. Colorism still has reach.

Colorism is not new. Slavery institutionalized a caste system where skin tone dictated labor, survival, and status. Lighter-skinned people, whether Indigenous, biracial, or descended from colonizers, were often placed in “preferable” conditions. This twisted logic follows us through Reconstruction, through Jim Crow, through beauty pageants, and now reality TV.

When I was researching Island Queen and came across the remarkable life of Dorothy Kirwan Thomas, a formerly enslaved woman who owned businesses across the West Indies and had a documented affair with a prince of England, I assumed she must’ve been biracial and fair-skinned — it’s what I’d been conditioned to expect with such access, desirability, and favoritism.

But no.

Dorothy was dark-skinned, described as striking, admired by politicians, desired by colonial men. Her achievements should be taught in school — and yet she’s barely remembered. One wonders if we would know her name if her skin were lighter like Elizabeth Dido Belle or her life more scripted and tragic like Sally Hemmings.

Dorothy Kirwan Thomas was the exception, not the rule, in a world that often refuses to associate darkness with beauty or softness or wealth.

That’s why I paused and shared the recent New York Times article celebrating The Gilded Age on HBO. The series is well done and its portrayal of Black high society in the 1880s is masterful.

The article features Phylicia Rashad, Audra McDonald, and Denée Benton discussing the dual burden of classism and colorism.

As Denée speaks about working on the show: “We have an opportunity to show something that’s never been onscreen. We have to widen this lens.”

Phylicia says, “The concerns of an era might be different, but people are still people.”

Audra adds, “But where we are right now, some of them are quite similar.”

Colorism didn’t disappear with integration. I know that because I went to school in the “colorblind” North and still experienced the paper bag test, a cruel whisper from Jim Crow, it was obvious.

Colorism didn’t vanish when we elected a Black president.

It’s why books like The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett struck such a nerve in 2020. Set in the fictional town of Mallard, it shows families fracturing under the pressure to assimilate and even pass.

I return to this quote from Sonali Dev’s 2019 novel, Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors — a love story between a darker-skinned Rawandan Anglo-Indian chef and a lighter-skinned Indian-American neurosurgeon:

“The syntax of prejudice—threaded into conversation with the perfect pauses and facial expressions—was like ciphers and spy codes. The meaning clear to those it was meant for. To everyone else, it was harmless scribbles. Easy enough to deny.”

Denying the lingering effects of colorism is sad. It hides in tone and tone policing. In the silence of those who don’t speak up or question biases. It can even come down to who we’re allowed to root for.

So no, we haven’t solved colorism, classism, or the big R word.

Yet there’s hope in storytelling.

I applaud The Gilded Age for giving us something new for TV, portraying Black affluence in the 1800s with elegance, and power and nuance.

And to my fellow writers: I say don’t stop. The market may shift. Budgets may tighten. But keep telling stories that challenge the hierarchy and bias. Keep writing histories that include all aspects of humanity now and in the past.

Readers? Please lock in.Buy the books.Request them at libraries.Share titles that stir you.

All of us together can make this place a better world.

Books mentioned in this podcast as well as others to spotlight a world-wide perspective are:

The Vanishing Half by Brit BennettTwo light-skinned Black twin sisters choose vastly different paths—one passing as white—and their family’s fate reveals the generational scars of colorism and identity.

Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors by Sonali DevA modern retelling of Austen’s classic featuring an Indian-American neurosurgeon and a darker-skinned chef navigating love, family pressure, and implicit bias, including colorism.

Dominicana by Angie Cruz A young Dominican girl is married off and brought to the U.S., navigating racism, patriarchy, and internalized colorism from her community and family.

The House of the Spirits by Isabel AllendeSpanning generations, this magical realist novel touches on colonialism, whiteness, and how transparent skin grants privilege and protection in postcolonial Chilean society.

The Bluest Eye by Toni MorrisonA dark-skinned Black girl internalizes society’s hatred and longs for blue eyes, believing they will make her loved and beautiful in a world shaped by colorism and racism.

Island Queen by Vanessa RileyBased on the real life of Dorothy Kirwan Thomas, this novel tells the epic story of a formerly enslaved woman who becomes a wealthy entrepreneur in the West Indies while confronting race, class, and beauty politics.

This week, I’m highlighting Virgina Highlands Bookstore through their website and Bookshop.org

We are at the 6-month point. January 13th will be here before we know it. Help me build momentum for Fire Sword and Sea—spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about female pirates in the 1600s. The link on my website shows retailers large and small who have set up preorders for this title.

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

Let’s keep growing and building 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

We’ve all been worrying—rightfully—about AI stealing the work of artists and authors. That’s a valid and growing concern. In March of this year, I found out that Meta’s engine, according to The Atlantic, scraped 27 of my 28 published books.

The only reason it didn’t get March’s release A Wager at Midnight was because it hadn’t hit the shelves yet. Theft in broad daylight.

But this goes deeper than just copyright violations. We’re seeing something more insidious: the rise of AI-generated scams, fakery, and lies. And I’m not talking about science fiction. I’m talking about now.

On platforms like TikTok and X, faked videos are being created and/or shared with shocking ease—videos that can ruin reputations, twist narratives, and even make the UK tabloid press bite and republish the lies for a wider international audience. I’ve seen articles run in The Daily Mail that pose lies as questions, which gives dodgy accountability while still spreading misinformation. It’s manipulation masquerading as curiosity. Yet many look at lying headlines and accept them as true.

A report by Upwind published in December says that 87% of Americans are worried about being scammed by AI. That is a lot of people. It’s a huge concern, especially when truth tellers are losing their jobs or seemingly capitulating because of fears of being sued, losing access, or targeted and harassed. The “other side” is not just lying but they are weaponizing the instruments that we are supposed to trust and inflicting consequences on anyone saying or writing something they disagree with.

The Big Beautiful Lies

I must say, the lies can be compelling. Let’s look at an easy topic, travel. I mean, who doesn’t want a travel guide? I buy them quite often for research on big cities or exotic locations.

According to Axios, AI-generated travel guides, self-help books, and even mathematics are popular to scam. Now I have to say—math is hard enough. Why are you going to use a robot to put up something that can hurt a kid’s education. And please don’t have my characters walking down the wrong streets.

Yet the boldness of the lying is getting worse. People are using AI to write books and then publish them under real authors’ names. Savannah Guthrie in 2024 was done so dirty. She wrote the book Mostly What God Does. Scammers using AI wrote workbooks, studies, and companion guides for her book and published them on Amazon under her name.

Kara Swisher, the tech maven faced it too: fake “biographies” about her own life showed up ahead of her memoir’s release, Burn Book, in 2024. Jane Friedman details on her blog her own horror story, where a scammer used AI to write Friedman-like books, and then published those books under Friedman’s name. And the proceeds went to the bots.

These AI scams confuse real readers. They have the potential to damage reputations and dilute the credibility of authors—an author’s brand can take decades to build.

Imagine what happens to a debut author whose idea has become popular on TikTok, getting beat to her book launch by an AI scam. And because debuts aren’t yet industry names, they lose the credibility game.

I used to think that AI scams were going to catch my grandma or folks not paying attention. Nope. AI is giving thieves the ability to put together more convincing emails and websites to ensnare everyone. It’s not just grandma and Social Security, or the foreign soldiers needing help to get a fortune out of a war zone—we’re talking sophisticated scams that use AI to reconstruct your habits. They may be scanning emails or even listening to conversations through AI upgrades on things that shouldn’t have AI at all.

This is phishing on a whole new level. And we’re all set up to be scammed. It’s no longer going to be easy to tell a scam by bad grammar, doxing, or fraudulent websites. AI is making everything harder to detect. AI should be used to make things better, but in the hands of bots and scammers it is a nightmare.

No Free Rides or Shades

I recently did a small brand deal for gummy vitamins. I choked on a cornflake as a kid—swallowing is hard. And please don’t even think of me taking anything that’s a horse pill. Anyway, now I’m getting little offers. Most of the offers that don’t come from a collaborator’s platform are probably scams. So there are no free sunglasses.

How do we protect ourselves?

You can’t trust your eyes anymore. Nor your ears—AI can clone a voice. It can fake a face. It can forge a whole book.

But you can protect yourself:

* Verify Every Fact – Before you repeat or share get several sources. I want to say reputable, but that’s hard to define right now.

* Check Sources That Don’t Agree With You – Find several and verify dates, times, etc. If they match, you have a fact. If they don’t, you have a lie, a manipulation, or someone’s opinion.

* Search Smart – Check authors’ websites, join their newsletter, and follow creatives on their official accounts before buying.

* Report Scams – Don’t stay silent. Amazon, TikTok, and the FTC need to hear from us.

* Don’t Be Ashamed – If you got scammed, tell someone. Put it on blast. Be someone else’s keeper.

* Check the FTC’s Resources – The Federal Trade Commission is watching this space. The rules are there and often include ways of reporting issues.

We are in an era where you can no longer believe your lying eyes. The truth takes longer to verify, and the fakers are only getting smarter.

Artists, writers, creators: your work is valuable. But we must fight smarter and speak louder to help our readers and audiences find the truth. This is going to be a long battle, but we must not be silent. We can never let up the fight. Be vigilant while being creative.

Books to bring awareness of the problem are:

Weapons of Math Destruction: How Big Data Increases Inequality and Threatens Democracy by Cathy O’Neil

A sharp critique of how algorithms can be biased, dangerous, and largely invisible. It explains how AI systems make life-and-death decisions, often with no accountability.

The Coming Wave: AI, Power, and Our Future

by Mustafa Suleyman

This book explores how fast-moving technologies—especially AI—can outpace regulation and become tools for manipulation, chaos, and control. It’s a smart, accessible read on the dangers ahead.

And of course lets aid:

Burn Book by Kara Swisher

A sharp, insider memoir exposing the rise of Silicon Valley’s power players and how tech’s promises turned into threats to truth, privacy, and democracy.

Mostly What God Does by Savannah Guthrie

A heartfelt collection of reflections on faith, love, and grace, offering spiritual encouragement grounded in everyday life.

Check out Jane Friedman’s Website for her latest books.

This week, I’m highlighting Park 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. Paid Subscribers Your Next Lesson on Build-A-Better-Character is coming this week.

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

Let’s keep growing and building 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

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.

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

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