The rapture is said to be Tuesday. Are you ready to meet your Maker?

More importantly, are you ready to give an account for every moment you have not fully lived up to your calling? The internet is buzzing with theories and because of recent events—assassinations, and global unrest—some belie the end is near. But for those of us grounded in Christian faith, we know the truth. According to Matthew 24:36, we are told:

“But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”(NIV)

History is littered with hoaxes, false predictions of the end times that have left people swindled, embarrassed, and disappointed when life simply continued.

In 1843 and 1844, a Baptist preacher named William Miller predicted that Jesus would return between March 21, 1843, and March 21, 1844. When this did not happen, he revised the date to October 22, 1844, resulting in what became known as the “Great Disappointment.”

In 1988, former NASA engineer Edgar C. Whisenant published 88 Reasons Why the Rapture Will Be in 1988, predicting the rapture between September 11 and September 13, 1988. When his prediction failed, he revised it multiple times, first to October 3, 1988, and later to 1989, 1993, and 1994. Even engineers can be wrong.

In 1992, a South Korean religious movement led by Lee Jang Rim, called the Dami Mission, predicted the rapture on October 28; when it did not occur, Lee was convicted of defrauding his followers out of millions of dollars.

In 1997, Pastor Ed Dobson, a nationally known speaker and author, published The End: Why Jesus Could Return by A.D. 2000, arguing that the increasingly chaotic world was a sign that Jesus would return soon. While he correctly noted that the world was becoming more hectic, his prediction did not come to pass.

One of the more tragic predictions came from the Heaven’s Gate cult, which believed the appearance of Comet Hale-Bopp in 1997 was a sign that Earth was about to end, and that they had to hitch a ride on a spaceship hidden within the comet. Following this belief, 39 cult members committed mass suicide, a devastating reminder of the dangers of such predictions.

Televangelist Jerry Falwell Sr. speculated that the Antichrist would appear sometime between 1999 and 2009. While controversial and widely criticized, this prediction, too, failed to materialize.

In 2011, Christian radio broadcaster Harold Camping declared that the rapture would occur on May 21. When that failed, he revised the date to October 21, 2011, having predicted again in 1994. Again his followers, felt betrayed.

Televangelist John Hagee, co-authoring with Mark Blitz the book Four Blood Moons: Something Is About to Change, claimed that a series of four consecutive lunar eclipses from April 2014 to September 27–28, 2015, signaled the end times. The blood moons came and went, with no apocalypse in sight.

Finally, some voices in the Christian community warned that the year 2020 would signal the end, citing technological collapse, disease, or other cataclysms. While 2020 was undeniably a difficult year, the world continued, proving once again that apocalyptic predictions are best approached with skepticism.

And of course the most recently spread rumor on TikTok and repeated on other social media is another announcement for the rapture. As far as I can tell, this one is being reported to have originated by South African Pastor Joshua Mhlakela. Mhlakela has predicted that the rapture would happen on September 23 and 24, 2025, claiming the revelation came to him in a dream. Well that dream has spread like wildfire.

These examples remind us that no matter how convincing the prediction may seem, life continues—and those who place too much faith in a date are often left disappointed.

So I return to the core question: are we living in a way that truly honors our calling? For me, the answer is clear. I want to live a life worthy of the gifts God has given me—the talent to write, to speak, and to walk upright. These are not abstract abilities; they are distinct blessings that shape how I move through the world. The gift of health allows me to scale mountains, jog a mile, and experience life with vitality. The gift of speech gives me the ability to share ideas, offer wisdom, and brighten someone’s day—whether here on this podcast, in a keynote, or at a workshop. And the gift I cherish the most, the gift of writing, allows me to breathe life into characters, to refine ideas, and to share stories that resonate across time and space. Writing is where my soul finds joy.

Yet, when I reflect honestly, I know my work is far from complete. I want to reach more people, encourage those from every station and place, and see my characters come alive on television and streaming platforms. I want history told in its full context—the good, the bad, and the ugly—so that everyone can know the truth, and even see themselves in these stories. My mission is not finished until these stories are fully shared.

So yes, if the rapture truly comes tomorrow, I am not yet ready to give full account. I still have mountains to climb, stories to tell, and people to touch. And if life continues, as it often does, I remain committed to swinging for the fences, pen in hand, heart open, and ready to share.

To my listeners: thank you for allowing me to come into your homes, to share stories and perspectives, to celebrate the joys of writing, speaking, and imagining. Keep listening, keep sharing, and join our crew on this ongoing journey.

Books for those wanting to know more about the end times and how to deal with it:

Ordinary by Michael Horton does not specifically address the rapture but offers a critique of the evangelical tendency to seek extraordinary spiritual experiences. Horton emphasizes the value of ordinary Christian practices as the means through which God works in the world. More faithful living in the present, rather than fixating on speculative end-times—is what we need.

Fictional Works include:

Left Behind by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. JenkinsA bestselling novel series that dramatizes a pre-tribulation rapture scenario, exploring the lives of those left behind during the end times.

Pat Simmons’ The Intercessors series is a Christian fiction collection that intertwines spiritual warfare, redemption, and the power of prayer, following characters who confront life’s challenges through faith and intercession. Start with Day Not Promised.

This week, I’m highlighting All Things Inspiration Giftique through their website and Bookshop.org

Check my website for the latest on Fire Sword, and Sea, pre-order and get those collector cards—because the adventure is just beginning, and there’s so much more to explore.

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

I’m encouraging you to live boldly, to tell your stories, and never stop reaching for the calling you’ve been given.

Like, share, and subscribe

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

Before I begin my essay, I want to take a moment to thank all Write of Passage Subscribers, and especially my paid supporters. At the end of the SubStack, I have resources for you, all who help make this broadcast possible, week after week.

Wantonly Treacherous

I’ve been reading Psalms lately—Psalms 25:1-6 in particular. When anxiety, uncertainty, and unrest are high, the wisdom and comfort in David’s words bless my soul.

This week has been heavy. It marked the 24th anniversary of 9/11, one of the largest attacks on American soil. More than 3,000 lives were lost, including children, and over 3,051 children lost a parent that day. I often think about life before September 11—on the 10th, I was working at a high-tech startup preparing for a visit from Cantor Fitzgerald. Then we watched the towers fall, the attack on the Pentagon, and the downed flight in Pennsylvania. Soon we learned that Cantor Fitzgerald had fallen too, with 658 of its employees perishing. America awakened to new threats. And the startup—my startup—never closed that round of financing. In essence, it was another casualty.

“O my God, in you I trust.”

Back to the present: On September 10, 2025, three students were taken to the hospital in critical condition following gunfire at Evergreen High School in Colorado. Gun violence is not new. It amazes me that the death and injury of schoolchildren—kids with their futures ahead of them—are barely covered in the news. It’s as though we’ve accepted such horrors as part of our lives.

“Indeed, none who wait for you shall be put to shame.”

The very next day, September 11, several historically Black colleges and universities—Spelman University, Alabama State University, Hampton University, Virginia State University, Southern University A&M, and Bethune-Cookman University—went into lockdown due to threats of violence. People wanted to take their anger out on innocent students. White rage targeting Black communities is not new. White rage bringing violence to Black folk minding their business—like these college students—is also not new.

The Memphis Massacre of 1866 left 46 Black people dead and destroyed homes, churches, and schools. Later that same year, the New Orleans Massacre saw a white mob attack newly freed Black citizens, killing more than 35. In 1873, the Colfax Massacre in Louisiana claimed the lives of about 150 Black militia members who were attempting to surrender. The following year, the Vicksburg Massacre of 1874 in Mississippi killed an estimated 300 Black citizens.

The violence continued into the 20th century. The Springfield Race Riot of 1908 killed at least 15 Black residents. In 1920, the Ocoee Massacre in Florida took the lives of up to 80 Black people, while homes and churches were burned. The Tulsa Race Massacre of 1921 left as many as 300 Black residents dead, as thousands of White rioters looted and burned the thriving Greenwood district. Just two years later, the Rosewood Massacre of 1923 killed an estimated 150 Black residents, and the entire town was destroyed by a white mob.

“They shall be ashamed who are wantonly treacherous.”

And when violence on September 10, 2025 also struck a college campus in Utah, members of Congress, media voices, and others pointed to the marginalized as the source. In now-deleted tweets, they stoked the raw underbelly of anger in this nation. Instead of waiting for facts, people grabbed hold of their insecurities and hate, clamoring for civil war.

Unfortunately, this too is not new. People are desperate to blame someone else for their pain. The immigrant, the stranger, the marginalized in society carry invisible targets on their backs.

“Make me to know your ways, O LORD; teach me your paths.”

Then, the news broke the shooter who assassinated a man on Utah’s campus—a man whose speeches proclaimed white supremacy, who said he could not trust a pilot because of his skin color, who claimed slavery was good—was killed by a White young man from a conservative Utah family. The victim who espoused the right to bear arms and dismissed gun violence as inevitable casualties, died from a single shot fired from the young man’s assault weapon. A wife and young children are left heartbroken and bereft, facing the very world this husband and father had worked so hard to wantonly paint the world with treacherous words.

“Lead me in your truth and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation.”

This assassination is a tragedy. Every incident I’ve listed is a tragedy. But this one makes me think about the words I say—and the words I will leave behind in my podcasts and in each of my books. I don’t want to be wantonly treacherous. I don’t want people to dismiss my message because they lack empathy or understanding. I also don’t want to craft arcs of cynicism. My message is clear: there is too much wanton disrespect, too much treacherous loss of life, and too much excuse-seeking to blame rather than finding true answers.

“For you I wait all the day long. Remember your mercy, O LORD, and your steadfast love.”

So I pray—for mercy, for me and for this country. I pray for those who mourn, for those who have lost loved ones to violence. I never realized how fragile and special our democracy was until I began to hear calls for civil war.

Everything is fragile. Everything is at risk. I fear that we’ve all been wanton with our actions and treacherous with our words.

Why is it so hard to see truth? We must see it—even the hard truths. And I wonder: if truth had consistently found its way into the news, into broadcasts, into the halls of Congress, would there be fewer senseless tragedies? Fewer people waking up without the ones they love?

This week’s book recommendations are:

White Rage: The Unspoken Truth of Our Racial Divide by Carol Anderson – Explains how systemic white backlash perpetuates racial violence,

The Cross and the Lynching Tree by James H. Cone discusses the two most emotionally charged symbols relevant to Black communities, the Christian cross and the murderous lynching tree and their interconnection to the souls of Black folk.

Stamped from the Beginning by Ibram X. Kendi – Traces the history of racist ideas in America, showing the ideological roots of wanton treachery.

The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin – Highlights the consequences of ignoring racial injustice and moral responsibility.

The Filling Station by Vanessa Miller is a historical fiction rooted in the truth of the Tulsa Massacre, and it explores themes of racial violence, the resilience of Black communities, and the complexities of faith and justice in the face of systemic oppression.

This week I am highlighting Mahogany Books, through their website and Bookshop.org.

For everyone listening, I want to encourage you to use your words. As I promised at the beginning, I have something for you: I’ve built out my YouTube channel, Write of Passage | History, Culture & Writing, with tons of writing resources to help us all use our words more effectively. You can find me at @vanessarileyauthor.

🎬 YouTube – How to Journal to Write A Book

Video:

Times Writing Prompts:

🎬 YouTube Playlist –

🎬 YouTube – Build-a-Character, Session 1

Course Title: Build-a-Character: 10 Sessions to Shape Your Story’s Heartbeat

Episode: Session 1 – The Spark: Introducing Your Protagonist

Video:

🎬 YouTube – Build-a-Character, Session 2

Course Title: Build-a-Character: 10 Sessions to Shape Your Story’s Heartbeat

Episode: Session 2 – The Heartbeat: Core Beliefs & Values

Video:

I’ve completed and recorded the other eight sessions for Building a Character. All of my paid Substack subscribers have access to these lessons now. Click the private links below.

The preorder campaign has begun, get the collector cards for characters in Fire Sword and Sea—Help me build momentum for this historical fiction. Please ask your library to carry this novel and spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about lady pirates in the 1600s. This 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.

If you’re ready to move with purpose and power, hit that like button and subscribe to Write of Passage—be a part of my crew. Your journey deserves community.

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

Vanessa Riley’s Write of Passage is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

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 wrote this essay when I was angry.

I consider myself a rational, reasonable individual. My life has been one of success—working hard, pushing the envelope, and achieving. Deep down, though, I think I’m very guilty of believing that if you build it and honor it, they will come.

Maybe I internalized that 1989 movie, Field of Dreams, a little too much. Because the truth is, you can build it, plant the seeds, water it faithfully—and still, nothing grows. Sometimes you have to ask: is this the right garden? Do I have the right seeds. Or is this one of those seasons of famine, not feast?

Over the last 24 months, the stumbles in my journey have forced me to admit something, I’d rather not, that the missteps hurt. I’ve been pretending that they don’t hurt. But they do. Even when you turn the other cheek, the bruise on the other one is still there. When disappointment seeps into your bones, or you let circumstances get under your skin, or you start connecting dots—boy you begin to wonder if you’ve been blind. On those days, I ask myself: am I becoming a conspiracy theorist? Or did I just choose not to believe my own eyes?

Even a calm, levelheaded woman has to acknowledge when she is hurt and angry. My logical side tells me, “It’s just business. It’s politics. It’s economics. It’s not personal.” But every time I put pen to paper, it is personal. Part of me spills onto the page. When you meet my characters, you’re also meeting pieces of me—my wounds, my fears, my hopes, even some dreams. It sounds crazy, but that’s the life of an artist.

Perhaps, we are a little bit off. Who else would willingly put their words or their creations out there to be scrutinized by strangers? You might have to be a little crazy to face bloodthirsty reviews or accept the brunt of someone’s bad day, all because of something you were burning to create.

To be a writer or artist requires audacity—the belief that your story is worth telling, your song is worth hearing, you canvas is worth showing off. And even the humblest creators have to admit we are audacious.

Again, I say you have to be a little bit off because the road to creation is long, filled with danger, rejection, and the occasional spiral into bone crushing doubt.

So to my fellow writers who hit walls—whether self-inflicted, systemic, or circumstantial—own the pain. Then release it. My art is my statement to the world. Within the pages, one can find my zeal and my anger. I own it. I Vanessa Riley get angry sometimes.

I promise you that my anger is a mirror of my passion. It equates to all the research and translations and microfiche that I will search to gather fresh facts. I work hard.

I don’t intend to stop. As I write this essay for my podcast, I intend to keep making art. Because I believe, that I have a message the world needs to hear.

In the coming months, until Fire Sword and Sea releases, you’ll hear me talking about it, the hardest book I had to write. Yes, it’s about pirates in the Caribbean where you will have a diverse crew on the top of the boat working together, while chattel slavery exists within the bowls of the ship. So a meritocracy on top with White and Black and Brown pirates with enslaved people chained below. It’s messy. It’s complicated. It’s action filled. It’s true.

I will shout it from rooftops, fight to get it attention. The story matters. Because when we hide the past, we hide ourselves. And when we hide our anger, we hide our authenticity. And the fight to make it public hasn’t been easy. It’s made me angry.

It’s ok to be angry, but we can’t let anger fester. Then it turns into cynicism, inaction, and paralysis. I’m a work in progress and I’ve had to take my bottled-up feelings and release them through prayer and being able to hope for more. I gave up the noise to make room for healing.

So, you’re not crazy. You are not a conspiracy theorist. You are human. You are hurting. But the world still deserves to see your art.

Anger isn’t always productive. It doesn’t move the needle by itself. Acting while angry can cost you jobs, power, and peace. So yes—be angry but be wise. Be quick to release any sour heat churning in your soul. My advice is to do what must be done. Do your calling.

And as for me, I’ll live to play in my art another day and I ‘ll let God fight my present day and future battles.

This week’s reading list includes:

The Dance of Anger by Harriet Lerner – A classic on understanding anger, especially for women, and how to use it as a tool for growth rather than destruction.

Rage Becomes Her: The Power of Women’s Anger by Soraya Chemaly – Examines how women’s anger has been dismissed, and why it’s actually a powerful, transformative force.

Letter to My Daughter by Maya Angelou – Gentle but firm reflections on disappointment, resilience, and the courage to be authentic.

Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde – Essays and speeches on anger, identity, and transformation through truth-telling.

This week, I’m highlighting Bookmarks, NC through their website and Bookshop.org

The preorder campaign has begun, get the collector cards for characters in Fire Sword and Sea—Help me build momentum for this historical fiction. Please ask your library to carry this novel and spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about lady pirates in the 1600s. This 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.

If you’re ready to move with purpose and power, hit that like button and subscribe to Write of Passage—be a part of my crew. Your journey deserves community.

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 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