I started writing essays because my mind battled deep disappointment over the state of division in my country. My consciousness is bias, tragically etched with memories of when character mattered. Remember when we all wanted to be president? I remember holding civic medals I’d won in elementary and high school. I recall lifting people up on pedestals and telling younger versions of ourselves, “That’s who I want to be. That’s who I want to emulate when we grow up.”

Heroes of the Haitian War —Empress Marie Claire, Warrior Gran Toya – Art by Tonya Engle for William Morrow—Sister Mother Warrior

That sentiment is gone. People in power are deeply flawed, or their flaws are more obvious. And it’s not just politicians. We look at sports heroes and entertainers and see waves of brokenness—people performing for show, lacking integrity, and becoming poster children of bad behavior. That is why authenticity feels so refreshing, why it can grip the zeitgeist of a nation and have us talking about it, creating YouTube videos and Subtacks on the subject, even spinning reels and threads—finding more ways to tap into our fount of creativity.

We are hungry for authenticity, for authentic creation.

Now, I’m not advocating for perfection. Every writer knows the pitfalls of striving for perfection. We wrestle with word choice, sentence structure, even the order of ideas. We can edit something so many times that our original vision becomes unrecognizable. Yet, we push forward because the act of creating is essential. It’s the breath in an artist’s lungs.

Our better angels—our novels of truth, our canvases of color, our songs of freedom, our quilts of existence, our visuals of life—are needed more than ever. We are hungry for authenticity, for authentic creation.

Our appetites are satiated in low-calorie burns. Scrolling for kicks, laughs, angry takes, and escape is common. But social media, the hellscape that it is, can be a respite or a drug. And I must say, I am confused about the self-induced stupor of tearful videos of people who voted against their own interests, now seeking the world’s sympathy as they grapple with consequences—lost jobs, lost funding, lost farms, and lost hopes. It’s painful to watch. It’s also jarring to see them admit that this consequence is only a problem now because they suffer. I did a podcast about the loss of empathy. I just didn’t expect an equivalent rise in blindness to FAFO.

I wish harm on no one, but these folks are putting themselves and their business out there and wonder why they are being mocked. Empathy and sympathy need to be learned and earned before they can be demanded from others.

And yet, here we are—still divided, still finding out. We could sulk. We could laugh. We could cry. But I believe the better thing to do is to keep moving forward. That’s how we—the collective, those of like minds, and even new converts to humanity—win. Everyone, we can win. We will win.

There’s a scene I wrote in Sister Mother Warrior—the lead-up to the Battle of Vertières, the drive to push the French out which ended the Haitian Revolution, this is a snippet of the audio performed by Adjoa Andoh and Robin Miles:

Staking the flagpole in the ground, he (Jean-Jacques Dessalines) stopped and looked out at his army. “They divide, but we are consolidated, one family. And this gives us victory…”

Then he gave the signal and pointed us to the hills. “Onward! We will win!” The battle cry of Nosakhere, “Mì nan du déji! We will win!” was music to my ears. Women and men cried out in all the mother tongues of the people born here and those stolen from Africa.

“Yebedi kunim,” Twi.

“A yoo ṣẹgun,” Yoruba.

“Nou pral genyen,” Kreyòl.

“Nous gagnerons,” French.

“Mì nan du déji,” blessed Fon.”

I love that scene—people of all races and nationalities gathering to defeat their common oppressors. Unified they drove the French from Haiti. It took everyone. In America, it will take all of us to win.

The True Fight

We’re not fighting with weapons of war—guns and tanks. We are fighting for minds. The power to unlock thought and passion is creation. How we got here doesn’t matter. Whether orderly or chaotic, it’s not about the process—it’s about the product. What are you making with the time you were given?

The battles can be as small as saving your money by avoiding fast fashion and shopping your closet. Eating and talking about life around the kitchen table instead of eating out. Supporting your library by using it and checking out books by your favorite authors is an act of resistance.

For those who harness their creative genes, making something, delivering art is the ultimate act of resistance. Creating ignites the brain, releasing endorphins and unlocking resilience. Instead of dwelling on despair, we must tap into our inner artist, writer, and creator to make magic in the medium of our choosing. I want this period of time to be a rebirth or renaissance for folk arts, for kitchen experimentation, for the novels we will talk about for the next seventy years.

For every creator out there, I know it feels difficult to make art right now. It feels worse when you know you did your part to keep the world from being set on fire. I often think of my farming grandparents, who lived in the Jim Crow South, educated eight children, and bought over 400 acres of land with mere pennies. If they could plant so many seeds in the face of lynchings, why are we letting fear of people who whine at the first moment of heat or being stoned by pea soup cause us despair? No one should keep us from doing what we must. No one.

History proves that perseverance defies expectations:

· Gran Toya led troops in hand-to-hand combat in her 60s during the Haitian Revolution.

· Fauja Singh began running marathons at 89, setting records in his 100s.

· Ray Kroc turned McDonald’s into a global empire in his 50s.

· Diana Nyad swam from Cuba to Florida at 64 after multiple failed attempts.

· Faith Ringgold gained major recognition for her story quilts in her 50s.

· Cicely Tyson was told she wouldn’t make it because of her dark skin; she won a Tony at 88 and worked until her passing at 96.

· Morgan Freeman became a household name in Driving Miss Daisy at nearly 50.

· Samuel L. Jackson landed Pulp Fiction at 46 after years of struggling with his career. Our Uncle Sam is now one of the highest grossing actors in Hollywood.

And, of course, there are the writers I’ve spoken about:

· Toni Morrison published The Bluest Eye at 39 and won the Nobel Prize in Literature at 62.

· Maya Angelou published I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings at 41 and became a literary icon.

· Octavia Butler faced rejection for years before breaking through in sci-fi in her 40s.

To every creator, hear my voice: Grab your paper, pens, keyboards, fruits, spices, fabrics, glues, paints, resins, threads—whatever you have—and birth a miracle. Create. Art is the first and last sign of resistance.

The work isn’t done. We resist by creating. My art—my words—exist to empower Black women, foster sisterhood, and restore the world to a place where we are our brothers’ and sisters’ keepers. The ancestors say we will win. I believe them, and I believe in us.

To read about inspiration and resistance:

· Letters to a Young Artist by Anna Deavere Smith – A guide to creativity and resilience in the arts.

· Just as I Am by Cicely Tyson – The legendary actress’s memoir, chronicling her journey as a Black woman in Hollywood.

· I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou – A deeply personal story of overcoming hardship through art and voice.

· Sister Mother Warrior by Vanessa Riley – A novel about the real women behind the Haitian Revolution, embodying resilience and leadership.

· Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments by Saidiya Hartman – A history of Black women who lived on their own terms in the early 20th century.

· Barracoon: The Story of the Last “Black Cargo“ by Zora Neale Hurston – A firsthand account of survival and resilience from one of the last known survivors of the transatlantic slave trade.

Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast. This week, I’m highlighting The Book Worm Bookshop through Bookshop.org.

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

Originally posted 2025-02-25 14:10:00.

Every writer, whether we want to admit it or not, is an entrepreneur. We create a product—a book—and then we turn around and sell it. Sometimes we sell part of our interest to a traditional publisher like Simon & Schuster or HarperCollins. Sometimes we go the indie route, selling directly to readers through a website or through a behemoth like Amazon. But no matter the path, one truth remains unshakable:

We are in business for ourselves.

We are the CEO, the marketing department, the shipping department, the PR team, and the person answering emails at 2 a.m.

We promote the product lines. We show up to the events. We handshake and livestream and book club ourselves into the good graces of the reading world.

I’m doing that now. As we gear up for the launch of Fire Sword and Sea, I’ll will be heading to D.C., Severna Park, Virginia, St. Louis, Mo, Austin, Texas, and of course Atlanta and all her glorious suburbs. Meeting readers is actually one of my favorite parts of the job. There’s nothing like seeing that gleam in a reader’s eye when they tell you what moved them, confused them, or delighted them.

There’s nothing like digging into the myths and the hidden histories that shaped a story.

And when I say hidden, I mean hidden. I will chase a fact to the end of the earth. I will travel to the places I’m writing about. I will battle through foreign language and archivists to get firsthand accounts. I want to return these people to you whole—the people who lived the stories I’m writing.

For Fire Sword and Sea, I boarded an old-time frigate—one that very easily could’ve been a pirate ship back in the day. I wanted to feel what it was like to sleep in a hammock practically touching tens of others, to understand how close the hull was to the crew cabin, to hear the groan of wood and water the same way they did.

There is no way you couldn’t hear the moans of the enslaved in the cargo hold. In the 1600s, human beings were the universal coin. People traded enslaved bodies like currency. That’s how they moved stolen property.

Moreover, the 1600s were wild. Theft was legal if you called it piracy. Danger was so normal it barely had a name. But it was also a time of reinvention. A time when you might have to disguise yourself—your gender, your class, your entire identity—to have the life you dreamed of.

And honestly? It doesn’t feel that far from being a small-business owner today. We change disguises, the various roles, to get our jobs done. And sometimes we forget why we got into this in the first place. We forget passion. And focus on market shifts. We ignore hunger to unleash something new into the world and get stuck in all the boxes that have to get checked—editing, research, marketing, PR, scheduling.

Recently I found people fight you or deprive you of resources when they don’t want your story told. In business, a Walmart will come and undercut you to price you out of the market. In the writing world, it will be the use of algorithms or the lack of oxygen to starve a book.

Sadly, some folks don’t want the truth. They don’t want to hear of a world where everyone could become a slave. They definitely don’t want to hear women who escaped and became pirates who led and commanded ships. I really think, some wanted me to write about a jolly old male crew singing sea shanties all day.

In Fire Sword and Sea, you’ll get adventure. You’ll get sailing crews. You might even get a spirit filled song asking for God’s vengeance. I wrote the truth. You’ll see the complicated leadership choices women in disguise had to make. You’ll see the danger of wanting something so badly that you risk everything to get it.

You’ll see the success, the heart break, and the compromises that may rot the soul.

Back to my small business.

Right now, I’m negotiating dates, confirming travel, juggling time zones, sorting release-week logistics—not to mention championing every other author whose book is coming out in January. It’s prime season. Prime real estate. Everyone wants and needs attention. I am no exception. If you preorder Fire Sword and Sea, I hope you feel the stories worth, believe the hassle, the grind, the late nights, and the tears.

But Lord… how many times have I said to myself, “I wish I had somebody else to do this”?

Let me bust a myth: even if you’re traditionally published, for the most part nobody is swooping in to handle your career or your new shiny book. You will still grind. You will still hustle. Traditional publishing gives glamorous promises—books everywhere, audiobooks, store distribution—but it does not give you a full marketing staff or sometimes the feeling that they give a damn.

Indies wear about 50,000 hats. Traditional authors wear about 32,000. Either way, your neck and back are still tired.

And that is why every writer—I don’t care which path you choose—has to ask:

What are you willing to do to have what you truly want?What are you willing to carry?How high are you willing to climb to make people hear your story?

Because at the end of the day, there is no one else. There’s no system. No machine. No cavalry.

There’s only you.You, shouting your story from every rooftop.You, standing on every chair.You, daring the world to listen.

We’re less than a month away now, and soon I’ll be taking Fire Sword and Sea across the country to talk about Jacquotte Delahaye, Lizzôa Erville, Michel Le Basque, Laurens de Graaf, and more: pirates who were—brave, reckless, brilliant. You will see them take to the took to the sea because no one else would do it for them.

Maybe that’s the lesson for all of us.

In the end, there is no one else.

There’s only the person who wants the dream badly enough to carry it forward.

And that person… is you.

This week’s booklist are books also coming out in January that need a little more love:

With Love, Harlem by ReShonda Tate — This is a fictionalized version of Hazel Scott’s story. She’s a jazz prodigy, a glamorous film star, a fierce advocate for civil rights, and she breaking barriers and rules.

The Seven Daughters of Dupree by Nikesha Elise Williams — A multi‑generational family epic following seven women of the Dupree lineage as they unearth dark secrets.

Burn Down the Master’s House by Clay Cane — A searing, urgent exploration of race, identity, and power in America.

Last First Kiss by Julian Winters — A second‑chance, slow‑burn romance about an Atlanta event planner reuniting with his first love when forced to cover a high-profile wedding.

Happy Habits for Successful Women by Valorie Burton — A practical, empowering guide that encourages women to adopt mindset and behavioral habits to become healthier, more resilient, and more aligned with their goals and values.

Behind These Walls by Yasmin Angoe — A twist‑driven psychological thriller in which a woman infiltrates a wealthy family’s mansion under false pretenses.

Murder From A to Z by V.M. Burns — A cozy‑mystery in which bookstore owner and amateur sleuth Samantha Washington and her sister uncover sinister dealings at a retirement village when a seemingly natural death turns suspicious.

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

Consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea from Black Pearl Books or one of my partners in the fight, bookstore’s large and small who are in this with me.

Come on my readers. Let’s get everyone excited for January reads.

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.

So Boss, Our stories matter—tap like, hit subscribe, share, and let’s keep this movement going with 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

Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl LIX halftime performance during the game between the Kansas City Chiefs and the Philadelphia Eagles has set the internet—and much of the world—abuzz. Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult is the most banned book in America for challenging the way people see the world. I’m sure those same folks will be coming for Kendrick’s thirteen minutes for challenging the way the world operates.

Less than a week later, scholars, pontificators and fools offered hot takes, deep dives, and debates about every minute of the performance. Those versed in Black scholarship loved it. Others criticized it. And, there were plenty of opinions and outright lies circulating. But here’s what’s undeniable: 133.5 million people watched the halftime show at Caesars Superdome, making it the most-watched in Super Bowl history. According to Roc Nation, Apple Music and the NFL, this number beats those who watched the Fox broadcast of the game which averaged 126 Million viewers. That 7.5 million more tuning into halftime than game time.

Context is King: History of the Halftime Show

Let’s talk about origins. The Super Bowl, the annual championship game of the NFL, has been played since 1967, with college marching bands providing halftime entertainment.

Grambling State University, a HBCU had its marching band perform at Super Bowl II (1968).

In 1972, the first halftime show featuring a Black performer, non-marching band member, was Ella Fitzgerald at Super Bowl VI in Miami where she sang Mack the Knife.

Super Bowl IX (1975) in New Orleans paid tribute to Duke Ellington with Grambling State’s Marching Band and the Mercer Ellington Orchestra.

When was the next Black moment? We have to skip a bunch of years to get to 1991, Super Bowl XXV where the incomparable Whitney Houston delivered a stirring rendition of The Star-Spangled Banner, but she wasn’t the halftime headliner—New Kids on the Block were. In 1993, Michael Jackson, the 1st Black performer to headline the halftime show dazzles the crowds at Super Bowl XXVII (27) and sets the standard for pop stars and the future of football’s biggest event. The King of Pop owned the stage and every moment of his performance. If 100,000 people had actually turned off their TVs like they claimed they did, Michael Jackson would still hold the record, with an audience of 133.4 million viewers.

Other notable performances featuring Black artists across the lengthy history of halftime shows include:

• Super Bowl XXII (22nd, 1988) – Chubby Checker appears with the Rockettes and 88 grand piano players.

• Super Bowl XXIX (29th, 1995) – Patti LaBelle & Teddy Pendergrass were featured along with Tony Bennett.

• Super Bowl XXX (30th, 1996) – Diana Ross dazzled in a red gown and even changed outfits mid-show.

• Super Bowl XXXI (31st, 1997) – A blend of James Brown appearing with ZZ Top and The Blues Brothers Band.

• Super Bowl XXXII (32nd, 1998) – A Motown tribute featured The Temptations, Smokey Robinson, Martha Reeves & The Vandellas, Queen Latifah, and Boyz II Men. Watching those young men of Boyz II Men sing about their mothers hits differently now, especially juxtaposed with Lamar’s solitary silhouette atop the GNX in New Orleans and his dancers, young men gathered under a street lamp.

• Super Bowl XXXIII (33rd, 1999) – Stevie Wonder joins Gloria Estefan and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy.

• Super Bowl XXXIV (34th, 2000) – Toni Braxton is featured.

• Super Bowl XXXV (35th, 2001) – Featured Mary J. Blige and Nelly.

• Super Bowl XXXVIII (38th, 2004) – Janet Jackson’s infamous “wardrobe malfunction” occurred.

• Super Bowl XLI (41st, 2007) – Prince performed in the rain, delivering one of the most iconic halftime shows in history.

• Super Bowl XLV (45th, 2011) – Usher and the Prairie View A&M University Marching Storm supported The Black Eyed Peas.

• Super Bowl XLVI (46th, 2012) – Madonna headlined with Nicki Minaj and CeeLo Green at Lucas Oil Stadium.

• Super Bowl XLVII (47th, 2013) – Beyoncé tore down the Superdome in New Orleans, reuniting with Destiny’s Child.

• Super Bowl 50 (2016) – Beyoncé returned, performing a Black Panther-inspired set supporting headliner Coldplay.

• Super Bowl LIII (53rd, 2019) – Big Boi and Travis Scott performed in Atlanta.

• Super Bowl LV (55th, 2021) – The Weeknd headlined in Tampa.

• Super Bowl LVI (56th, 2022) – Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, Kendrick Lamar, Mary J. Blige, and 50 Cent rocked SoFi Stadium in Inglewood.

• Super Bowl LVII (57th, 2023) – Rihanna, pregnant and powerful, delivered her first live show in over five years.

• Super Bowl LVIII (58th, 2024) – Usher commanded the stage in Las Vegas.

• Super Bowl LIX (59th, 2025) – Kendrick Lamar featuring SZA.

So, let’s be clear: Black performers at the Super Bowl are not new. Hip-hop and rap at the Super Bowl are not new. For those suddenly enraged—why weren’t you bothered during the 39 other years when Black artists weren’t featured or headlined? The selection process has always been based on merit—the most talented for the job, period. Right?

And with DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) now the new taboo, let me ask: Why do some get upset when things aren’t diverse—when people who look like them aren’t centered or given an extra slot or quota on stage? Do you want equity and inclusion or not?

Kendrick Lamar is highly qualified. He won the 2018 Pulitzer Prize in Music for his album DAMN. He’s a 27-time Grammy winner, and one cannot deny that his 2024 diss track, Not Like Us, has the world on fire. Please, show me someone with better credentials who’s willing to perform a 13-minute Super Bowl halftime show—for free.

Let’s Dive into the Performance

Lights flash. I see nine squares and glowing X’s and O’s. I wonder—are we about to get Tic-Tac-Toe or something else? In the background, a power bar, formed of stadium lights or drones, begins to load. I know we’re about to witness something special.

More lights flash. The bar is almost at 100%, and I sit on the edge of my seat, expecting a high level of storytelling artistry from Lamar. According to Britannica, art is a visual object or experience consciously created through an expression of skill or imagination—and right now, skill and imagination are exactly what we need.

In a flash, a “Start Here” sign and arrow appear, pointing to the lone figure on the hood of a Buick GNX. Kendrick Lamar, a young Black man, crouches on the car. The image evokes loneliness—it’s dramatic, and I’m locked in as the gleaming black Buick GNX (Grand National Experimental) transforms into a clown car, packed with dancers spilling out. So many exit the vehicle that I later learn the seating had to be removed to fit them all into that tight, cramped space—not unlike bodies crammed into the hulls of ships.

On Instagram, Lamar writes about authenticity: “In the moment of confusion, the best thing you can do is find a GNX. Make you realize the only thing that matters in life is that original paperwork. That TL2 code. 1 of 547.”

What does original paperwork mean when you’re the descendant of chattel slavery? Is it the slave ship’s manifest that documented the theft of ancestors? The bill of sale from massas in the States or Grand Blancs in the Caribbean, depending on where your roots were auctioned off? Or is it the manumission papers, declaring your freedom—bought at a price?

This leads me down another rabbit hole: authenticity—who is American and who is not? In a country that often forgets to be kind to the foreigner (Leviticus 19:33-34), or that it was founded by immigrants—many seeking religious freedom, a fresh economic start, or escape from oppression—this question cuts deep. It’s a scar that never fully heals.

Did you know that, in the past—like I wrote about in Island Queen—people with any tint to their skin have had to carry manumission papers or proof of their free status to avoid being accosted? Many around the nation feel this burden now. We’re still caught in this cycle because we’ve banned the books that teach history and empathy.

Back to Football—America’s Game

I highly recommend reading Moving the Chains: The Civil Rights Protest That Saved the Saints and Transformed New Orleans by Erin Grayson Sapp, which examines the 1965 AFL All-Star Game boycott, where players protested against racial discrimination in New Orleans.

Another must-read is Race and Football in America: The Life and Legacy of George Taliaferro by Dawn Knight, chronicling the journey of George Taliaferro, the first African American drafted by an NFL team, and the challenges he faced.

Red, White, & Blues of Uncle Sam

The visuals cut to Uncle Sam—portrayed by Academy Honorary Award winner Samuel L. Jackson. With a film career grossing over $27 billion worldwide, making him the highest-grossing actor of all time, Jackson embodies this iconic American figure. Some might be wondering, What in the DEI is going on with this Black version of a fictional Americana, but it soon becomes clear: Uncle Sam is here to keep Lamar in line.

Jackson plays Uncle Sam as Uncle Tom. Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Harriet Beecher Stowe’s 1852 abolitionist novel, portrayed White men as morally bankrupt and Black individuals as either complicit in oppression or suffering under it. The book also depicted White women as the moral conscience of a system they benefited from, yet remained angelic through their Christian preaching. The novel ends with the enslaved Tom dying because he refuses to betray two Black women who have escaped. As he dies, he forgives his abusers.

The novel’s humane portrayal of enslaved people and its righteous female characters were said to have contributed to the start of the Civil War. Enraged Southerners banned the book. In the 1940s, Langston Hughes attempted to revive interest in it, but Richard Wright and James Baldwin criticized it, arguing that it promoted the image of an “Uncle Tom”—a Black person subservient to Whites or complicit in oppression.

In Lamar’s performance, Uncle Sam enforces the “party line” of American success. At times, he antagonizes Lamar, telling him, “You’re too loud, too reckless, too ghetto.” He dictates that since Lamar refuse to comply with the rules of the American game, he must be penalized: “Deduct one life.”

The death count is brutal—and so is American history, even without including the countless lives lost under enslavement:

• Fort Pillow Massacre (1864): Confederate soldiers slaughtered surrendering African American Federal troops stationed at Fort Pillow, Tennessee. Between 277 and 295 Union troops were killed.

• Memphis Massacre (1866): A White mob murdered 46 African Americans, most of whom were Union veterans.

• New Orleans Massacre (1866): A White mob killed 35 Black citizens and wounded 100 for peacefully gathering in support of a political meeting.

• Colfax Massacre (1873): A White militia massacred approximately 150 African American militia members who were attempting to surrender in Colfax, Louisiana.

• Wilmington Massacre (1898): A premeditated attack left 60 Black Americans dead as White supremacists sought to eliminate African American participation in government and permanently disenfranchise Black citizens.

• Atlanta Race Riot (1906): White mobs killed at least 12 African Americans and burned over 1,000 homes and businesses in Black neighborhoods.

• Springfield Race Riot (1908): The Illinois state militia was called to quell the chaos as a White mob shot innocent people, burned homes, looted stores, and mutilated and lynched Black residents.

• Chicago Race Riot (1919): The “Red Summer” began when a Black youth was stoned to death for swimming in an area reserved for Whites. Over 13 days of lawlessness, 23 African Americans were killed, 537 were injured, and 1,000 Black families were left homeless.

• Ocoee Massacre (1920): A massacre of Black residents in Ocoee, Florida, left approximately 30 dead.

• Tulsa Race Massacre (1921): Tulsa’s prosperous Black neighborhood of Greenwood, known as Black Wall Street, was destroyed—1,400 homes and businesses burned, nearly 10,000 people left homeless. Vanessa Miller’s The Filling Station is a poignant portrayal of the massacre and the resilient rebuilding that followed.

The sacrifice of Black lives makes Lamar’s imagery of tangled bodies forming the flag raw. It hit me in the pit of my stomach. I live knowing that the sacrifices and body counts will continue to rise, forming trending hashtags: #BreonnaTaylor #AhmaudArbery #TamirRice #TrayvonMartin #GeorgeFloyd

The Movement of Dancers

The visuals of Black dancers dressed in red, white, and blue moving around what is now clearly the game receiver mirror how many of us are on the X button—saying yes to conforming, to getting along, to advancing, to avoiding having our dreams burned up by a jealous or misinformed mob. When the dancers near the circle stage—the reject button—they enter a staircase that leads to a slope, which brings them back to where they started. Is that a metaphor suggesting we are better off right where we began before chasing conformance?

The Most Misunderstood Part: Serena Williams

Serena Williams, who once dated Drake, danced the Crip Walk on stage. Distraught commentators ground their teeth, calling it disrespectful for a forty-year-old mother to be dancing on the figurative grave of her ex.

The caucasity of this is the belief that this exhibition was about a man or a former relationship. Serena Williams is not just some “baby mother.” She was ranked No. 1 in the world in women’s singles by the Women’s Tennis Association (WTA) for 319 weeks—the third-most of all time. Williams has won 73 WTA Tour-level singles titles, including 23 major women’s singles titles. She is the only player to accomplish a career Golden Slam in both singles and doubles.

The Crip Walk is a celebration, notably adopted by her folks from her city of Compton, and it symbolizes the alliance of California street gangs, the Crips— as in Crips vs. Bloods. No, Serena is not part of a gang. But like the dance’s founder, Henry Crip—a Harlem dance legend who lost an arm and a leg in a car accident—she celebrates moving forward and achieving. Williams first did the Crip Walk in 2012 at Wimbledon, eliciting massive backlash for celebrating a huge win—for the girl from Compton.

Seeing her dance freely, hair flowing, I think of the Tignon Laws of New Orleans, which I mentioned in my podcast Consent in the Time When a Black Woman Can Say No, and the long history of policing Black women’s bodies. In Serena, I saw joy and celebration. If I am to think of Drake at all—a man who has used Serena’s name in diss songs—I see freedom from a toxic relationship. That’s cathartic.

Ok, Now the Hotep Or Too Deep to be Real Take

Lamar does say he is a stargazer, so maybe the 16 stars on Uncle Sam’s jacket resemble the Little Dipper. if I squint, I can see it. But the talk online about the design representing the 16 free states—states that prohibited slavery between 1850 and 1858—seems like a stretch. These arbitrary dates are supposedly tied to U.S. naval activities interrupting the slave trade.

I’m not buying this. The U.S. Navy’s role against stopping transport began in 1820 when warships deployed off West Africa tried to catch American slave ships, but enforcement was sporadic until the Navy deployed a permanent African Squadron in 1842. Last time I checked, 1850 and 1842 are different years. A rounding error won’t make them the same.

By 1858, there were 32 states in the Union, including Minnesota, which was admitted on May 11, 1858. California was the 31st state, admitted on September 9, 1850. If I count the list of free states—states that prohibited slavery—I get 17:

1. Pennsylvania – December 12, 1787

2. New Jersey – December 18, 1787

3. Connecticut – January 9, 1788

4. Massachusetts – February 6, 1788

5. New Hampshire – June 21, 1788

6. New York – July 26, 1788

7. Rhode Island – May 29, 1790

8. Vermont – March 4, 1791

9. Ohio – March 1, 1803

10. Indiana – December 11, 1816

11. Illinois – December 3, 1818

12. Maine – March 15, 1820

13. Michigan – January 26, 1837

14. Iowa – December 28, 1846

15. Wisconsin – May 29, 1848

16. California – September 9, 1850

17. Minnesota – May 11, 1858

So the math and the facts aren’t jiving. Kendrick Lamar is very precise in his lyrics. An arbitrary number or pattern doesn’t seem to be his M.O. I could stretch and say he mentions losing 16 friends in his song “wacced out murals,” but then I’m just spitballing.

Not everything has a direct meaning, but that’s the beauty of art—it can mean many different things to different people. Kendrick Lamar and his performance is art and it should be applauded for making us all stop and think.

Ending the American Game

As the last notes of “Not Like Us” finishes, Lamar and company launch into “TV Off.” When he finishes the rap, he holds up a virtual remote, turns it off, and forces the stage to go dark. In lights, we see the sign: Game Over. Does he mean the American game is over because we refuse to learn from the past or that he’s stop playing the game? Lights out—Is that symbolic of a Revolution being televised until it’s not? Is the American Game going to stop feeding on Black life, Black culture, and Black breath? What happens if every American, turns off the TV, the cellphone, social media, etc. and stops playing the game?

America is founded with the God-given right to have differences of opinions. Of being able to choose your path, to dream the biggest dreams, and to make them happen—on or off the field. Whether we play the game or not, movement, not standing still, is how we inch forward toward the goal posts. It’s how we will awaken and form a more perfect union.

You can learn more about banned books from the American Library Association (ALA), PEN America, and Authors Against Book Bans.

Show notes include a list of books I’ve mentioned in the broadcast. This week, I’m spotlighting Brave and Kind Books through Bookshop.org.

Miller, Vanessa, (2025) The Filling Station. HarperCollins.

Picoult, Jodi. (2007). Nineteen Minutes. Atria Books.

Riley, Vanessa. (2021). Island Queen. William Morrow.

Hughes, Langston. (2000). Simple’s Uncle Sam

Lamar, Kendrick. (2017). DAMN [Album]. Top Dawg Entertainment.

Lamar, Kendrick. (2024). GNX [Album]. Top Dawg Entertainment.

Sapp, E. G. (2019). Moving the Chains: The civil rights protest that saved the Saints and transformed New Orleans. Louisiana State University Press.

Smith, A. W., & Hailey, W. (2020). Race and Football in America: The life and legacy of George Taliaferro. Indiana University Press.

Stowe, Harriet Beecher. (1852) Uncle Tom’s Cabin.

Images are screenshots of ROC Nation and Apple Music feeds.

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

Originally posted 2025-02-18 14:10:00.

“For the women who do right.

For the women who do wrong for the right reasons.

For the women who burn it all down, find beauty in ashes.

For the dreamers left behind—keep sailing.”

That is the dedication of Fire Sword and Sea. Four lines that came to me as a battle cry. It’s a reminder that womanhood, especially when tied to leadership, has never been a straight line. It bends, curves, breaks, and rebuilds. It demands courage. It requires clarity. And sometimes, it lusts for fire.

Recently, a friend—someone who does not read much historical fiction—got an early look at Fire Sword and Sea. She’s a reader of self-help, of business strategy, of the occasional thriller you can sneak into her hands. But she said something that stopped me cold:

“Vanessa, you wrote a book about leadership—about women’s leadership.”

At first, I blinked. That wasn’t the answer I was expecting. Yes, my heroine Jacquotte Delahaye is a pirate captain. And yes, pirate captains are leaders by definition. But what my friend saw was something deeper—something I wasn’t consciously aiming for but had apparently woven into every scene, every strike of a sword.

On a pirate ship in the 1600s, leadership wasn’t inherited; it was earned. Pirate vessels operated like meritocracies—any race, any nationality could join, as long as they could pull their weight. Jacquotte rises the only way a woman in that era could: in disguise. Hidden behind lies, she relies on her skill with a rapier, her mastery of the sea, her stamina and grit, and her ability to steer a stolen ship through storms both literal and moral.

Pirates didn’t buy their ships. They took them. And Jacquotte climbs the ladder of command one impossible task at a time.

Through Fire Sword and Sea, we see her rise, her missteps, her victories, her bruises—physical and spiritual. And that, my friend said, is leadership.

But leadership—especially women’s leadership—is a complicated beast.

We often talk about the women who lead in boardrooms, in startups, in medicine, in politics. But historically—and even now—women occupy the caregiver role by default. According to the report released in March by US Healthcare Workforce, 87 percent of nurses are women. The Bureau of Labor Statistics says 80 percent of healthcare workers are women. We are the hospice nurses, the physician assistants, the physical therapists. The ones tending to the young, the old, the fading, the forgotten. And in the 1600s, this was even more pronounced. Before physicians, there were women who gathered herbs, mixed tinctures, whispered prayers, held hands, and ushered people into life and into death and sometimes back again.

To lead, sometimes that caregiving must be set aside. And that choice weighs heavy on nurturers.

Then there is modernity:

How does being a mother affect leadership?

How does being a wife?

How does being the one expected to build the home, nurture the family, care for the elders and in-laws?

I remember climbing the corporate ladder and watching women I admired—women who mentored me—delay motherhood until the last biologically viable second. One of my favorite bosses, a brilliant Irish PhD in physics, once had suits tailored specifically to hide her pregnancy. Because at that time, maternity leave and career advancement could not coexist in the same equation.

This is the landscape women navigate. A landscape Jacquotte would have known in a different form, in a different century—but it’s still hauntingly familiar.

My friend, though, wanted to talk about the dedication.

For the women who do right.

For the women who do wrong for the right reasons.

Because in leadership, there is always a moment—a crossroads—when doing the right thing may mean becoming complicit in something that isn’t right. Sometimes survival demands choices you would never make in a perfect world.

We see the consequences of hubris and hard choices in our real world today. Not to get too political, but right now there is a crisis in the Caribbean that breaks my heart. U.S. forces have fired on fishing vessels, claiming they carried drugs. But no proof has been given. Witness accounts suggest at least one boat was attacked without cause, leaving two people clinging for life. It seems a second strike was orders to kill defenseless victims.

If drugs were aboard, they now sit at the bottom of the sea—destroyed by the same guns that struck the fishermen. This needless killing violates the Geneva Convention, the rules of war and basic humanity.

And now investigations must happen to see how leadership failed and who was complicit in illegal orders. It is a horrible situation when the people in all levels of the chain of command fail. It’s horrid, that those below followed orders that were illegal. Leadership—good or bad—always has accomplices.

And that is part of the burden.

In Fire Sword and Sea, Jacquotte and her crew face their own moral storms. In the 1600s, the “currency” of the seas was not just gold or silver. It was people. African people. A horrid truth I confronted in my research was located in merchant records.

I saw 17 guinea for a pewter bowl.

At first, I thought they meant the coin minted for King Charles II with gold from the country Guinea. But the coin of popularity in the Caribbean. The Spanish silver pieces of eight were. It was upon further digging that these records were referring to people. Everyone from Africa are commonly called Guinea in the 1600s.

So a pewter vessel was valued at seventeen Guinea. Seventeen human lives.

Imagine a world where a pewter bowl was worth more than a child.

So yes—Fire Sword and Sea has action and saga and mystery. But beneath the adventure, it wrestles with leadership, complicity, survival, and the cost of chasing freedom in a world built on stolen bodies.

This book asks questions:

What does it take to lead?

What is the price of doing the right thing?

What happens when you must choose between your principles and your people?

And how do women—across eras—navigate these impossible intersections of duty, ambition, and care?

I cannot wait to have deeper conversations with you about these choices and about leadership.

And so I return to Fire Sword and Sea’s dedication:

For the women who do right.

For the women who do wrong for the right reasons.

For the women who burn it all down, find beauty in ashes.

For the dreamers left behind—keep sailing.”

Books to get us diving deeper into leadership are:

The Soul of a Woman — Isabel Allende

A reflective nonfiction exploration of feminism, aging, ambition, and the fight for autonomy across a lifetime.

Take Care of Them Like My Own — Dr. Ala Stanford: A powerful memoir of a Black woman surgeon who turned grief, racism, and systemic neglect into a movement that vaccinated and cared for thousands during COVID‑19. Soror Ala is running for congress to lead the 3rd congressional district of Philadelphia.

The Broken Earth Trilogy — N.K. Jemisin

A brilliant speculative saga about oppressed women who wield world-shaking power, exploring trauma, leadership, survival, and righteous destruction.

I, Medusa — Ayana Gray

A bold, haunting retelling that gives Medusa her voice back, revealing the girl behind the myth and exploring power, wrath, injustice, and the cost of becoming the monster the world insists you are.

Birth of a Dynasty — Chinaza Bado (AKA JJ Mcavoy)

A sweeping tale of ambition, generational power, and the women who shape empires from the shadows, exploring the sacrifices, strategies, and emotional costs of building—and defending—a legacy.

We are six weeks away from the release of course Fire Sword and Sea on January 13th, 2026. Caribbean women pirates—Black women pirates join French and Indigenous women to sail the seas. Review this novel in Edelweiss and NetGalley. Vote for it on Goodreads. Help me get folks talking about this novel.

This week, I’m highlighting Baldwin and Company through their website and Bookshop.org .

Consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea from Baldwin and Company or one of my partners in the fight, bookstore’s large and small who are in this with me.

Come on my readers. Let’s get everyone excited for truth.

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.

Don’t let this be a one-time thing—like, share, and subscribe to join the growing family at Write of Passage. Welcome aboard this ship. I heart 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

It’s universally known that everyone who has a career or talent that intersects with the public must learn to deal with waiting. Everyone waits. Whether a king or a servant, a politician or a bank teller, time slows down while you wait to receive or give something. Even though the physical globe continues to rotate around the sun, our present circle will seem stopped or stuck. It’s an uneasy feeling that grows and can become unbearable the longer the wait time.

Creatives, especially writers know at some point in their career, will have to wait. Let’s dive into this world. Early on, it’s waiting for the right idea. Then, it’s waiting to find time to write. After that, we wait on edits or feedback from workshops, peers, or critique groups. If you are pursuing a traditional path, we wait for the magic call or Zoom with an agent announcing they love our voice and wish to sign us. Then, there’s the ultimate wait when, as a traditional author, one anguishes for a positive response from an editor at a publishing house. We want that “yes.” We crave that affirmation that we’ve written something that matters.

For indie authors, the struggles may look different, but waiting is still inevitable. You might be waiting on cover designers, layout artists, or formatters to deliver essential elements for book production. But no matter how we publish, all authors wait for early reviews and to see how fans and new readers react.

I’m reminded of a keynote I once heard Walter Mosley give. He was joking with his close friend, Gregory Hines, about how his world would change now that he had received his long-awaited “yes”. His risks were finally paying off, both literally and figuratively. But Hines, in his wisdom, simply told him, “Don’t worry, you’ll be broke again.” Mosley acknowledged that Hines was right and drew a big laugh from the National Book Club conference admitting that he was again and again.

Vanessa meets Walter Mosley at the 2024 National Bookclub Conference in Atlanta.

As authors, we will always be in a waiting game until we stop writing. We will be waiting on contracts, ad placements, book launches, or even the next words to come. But waiting doesn’t mean sitting around, worrying while we stave off dread. Waiting should be active.

Waiting involves an expectation that things will work together for our good (Romans 8:28). We must prepare for the next step (James 5:7). I want to act as if the answer is yes. I work in the present to be ready for the blessings. I never expect the worst. I try to be joyful until I have a reason to cry.

And let’s be real. Sometimes, the answer is no. Sometimes, it’s a kick in the gut—the realization that this good thing was not for you. It’s okay to grieve. We are human. We can be sad.

Yet, when we feel like we’ve blown it, we must remember that we are seen. We are not forgotten. I love how Psalmist puts it in Psalms 40:1-3:

“I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise.”

So rejoice in the good. Weep in the sadness. And know we are not alone.

The Waiting Winners Timeline.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I have a list of some of the great waits that eventually paid off. History is full of people who had to wait long periods for their dreams and recognition to come true:

• Sister Rosetta Tharpe (1915–1973) – The “Godmother of Rock and Roll” influenced Chuck Berry and Elvis Presley but wasn’t fully acknowledged until her induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2018.

• Cicely Tyson (1924–2021) – Though she acted for decades and delivered groundbreaking performances in Sounder (1972) and The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman (1974), she never received her full due until 2018 when forty-six years later, Cicely was presented with an honorary Oscar for her lifetime achievements. She was in her 90s.• Zora Neale Hurston (1891–1960) – As I mentioned in earlier episodes, Ride or Die or Get Out of the Way and Grab Somerset Gumbo, Your Best Girl, and Go, Zora’s work during the Harlem Renaissance was intentionally buried by gatekeepers. She died in poverty and obscurity, and her work had to be rediscovered a full decade after her death. I will say this a thousand times: This is not the way. Death and poverty should never be requirements for a writer’s success.• Octavia Butler (1947–2006) – Octavia’s first published work was a short story called Crossover in 1971. Her first novel, published by Doubleday in 1976, was just the beginning. The visionary science fiction writer, who won Hugo (1984) and Nebula Awards (1985), struggled for mainstream success until she published Parable of the Sower in 1993 and won the MacArthur Fellowship in 1995. That’s more than 22 years of waiting. The world is forever grateful for Octavia’s perseverance

• Walter Mosley – Walter started writing in the 1980s, and his first novel, Devil in a Blue Dress, was published by WW Norton on June 19, 1990. He faced several years of difficulty in getting published because publishers didn’t think there was an audience for Black detective fiction. Once it sold, it became a classic, even being adapted into a movie starring Denzel Washington.

One could say it all paid off. Perhaps. But I’m sure that the waiting wasn’t easy or sweet. I am thankful that each persevered with their gifts and changed the world.

How to Productively Wait

Since waiting is inevitable, I made a list of practical ways to stay productive and engaged:

1. Don’t Obsess—Rest: Avoid refreshing your inbox constantly. Do chores. Volunteer. Don’t obsess on reels or social media, but do find ways to bless someone else.

2. Read Widely: Explore new releases, classics, nonfiction, and poetry to inspire new ideas. This is something I do. It’s one of the reasons I confidently write in three genres—historical fiction, romance, and mystery. My voice adapts. I give readers of these genres what they want, what they expect, because I learn from all good stories. Sister Mother Warrior, about the two women who shaped the Haitian Revolution, is my most literary work, but it’s also the most muscular novel I’ve published. Its heft comes from a lot of nonfiction, including books on war and diaspora poetry.

3. Take a Class: Study writing guides or attend workshops. Some great books to consider:

o Elements of Fiction by Walter Mosley – Explores storytelling fundamentals such as character development, plot, and voice.

o How We Do It: Black Writers on Craft, Practice, and Skill edited by Jericho Brown – Features Nikki Giovanni, David Omotoso Black, Natasha Trethewey, Barry Jenkins, Jacqueline Woodson, Tayari Jones, Angela Flournoy, and more.

o On Writing by Stephen King, a personal favorite

4. Build Your Author Platform: Update your website, refresh your bio, and check your events list. I know some of those dates have passed.

5. Network with Other Writers: Attend writing groups, conferences, and in-person events.

6. Touch Grass—Literally: Get outside, take a walk, observe nature, and breathe fresh air

7. Enter Writing Contests: Consider submitting to:

o Writers of the Future Contest

o The Bridport Prize (That’s a UK contest)

o The Black List Unpublished Novel Award

o Reedsy.com has lists of competitions for poetry and proses.

Writers realize that all competitions are not created equal. Some have implicit bias. Do your homework before submitting. I don’t want your work stolen or misrepresented or fumbled by hands that should never had touched your creation in the first place

8. Stay Informed on Industry Trends: Keep up with publishing news, avoid scams, and research new agents and publishers and marketplaces.

9. Plan Your Marketing Strategy: Work on your launch plan and outreach to bloggers and media, so you are ready when you get your yes.

10. Replenish Creativity: Step away when needed—travel, pick up a hobby, or simply rest.

11. (Bonus Point) Start a New Project: If you’re querying, don’t immediately start book two in your series. Instead, write something fresh that could be your breakthrough project.

Embrace the Wait

Waiting is hard, but it doesn’t have to be unproductive or soul-crushing. It’s part of our process. It’s formative to our seasons of growth. We have to be prepared, or we will not harvest and allow our fruit to rot. Remember, everything worthwhile takes time. Every success story has had its pauses. The key to getting through to the light is to fill the waiting with purpose. Whether you are a seasoned pro or just getting into the business (the publishing game), trust that waiting always comes before your journey unfolds.

Keep writing.Keep learning.Keep going.And when that long-awaited “yes” finally comes, enjoy it. Bask in the joy. And remember how it feels, because, as Brother Mosley indicated, you will go through it again.

The lists of books mentioned in the podcast are listed below. Included links support Loyalty Bookstore via Bookshop.org:

Butler, Octavia E. Crossover: Short Story: Fragments. Edited by Robin Scott Wilson, Clarion, June 1971, Signet / New American Library. OEB 337, ca. 1970.

Butler, Octavia. Parable of the Sower. Seven Stories Press, 1993.

Mosley, Walter. Devil in a Blue Dress. W.W. Norton & Company, 1990.

Mosley, Walter. Elements of Fiction. Hachette Books, 2009.

Brown, Jericho, editor. How We Do It: Black Writers on Craft, Practice, and Skill. HarperOne, 2021.

King, Stephen. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. Scribner, 2000.

Riley, Sister Mother Warrior, William Morrow, 2022.

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

Originally posted 2025-02-11 14:10:00.

The gift of hospitality shouldn’t be dead. But if I’m honest, I think in certain parts of the country, and in certain circles I’ve moved through, it might be on life-support. I’ve watched people forget how to say welcome to strangers.

I’ve seen other seem oblivious to making room at the table for others. This weekend while I was at Barnes and Nobles, I was handed an orange whistle and given instructions on how to blow it if I see an abduction happening. Because elections have consequences, brown people are not being treated with hospitality. They are literally under assault for being brown.

I want off this Ferris wheel of bad karma. I want humans to act with generosity instead of suspicion. I want the world I write about, the happy ever after, the place where victory comes for those who persevere.

You see, I am my mother’s daughter.I was raised in the gospel of killing them with kindness—and if you’re still hatefully breathing, I might go in for another round. If you’ve read any of my Lady Worthing mysteries, you know I believe in Columbo-type persistent. And in Jessica Fletcher style, I will stack a body count and keep digging until I find the truth. Determination is my love language. Stubbornness is too.

So when I run head-first into metaphorical walls—and Lord, have I met a few this year—it isn’t easy to step back and consider quitting.

While it’s natural for me to reflect on what I “might’ve, should’ve, could’ve” done differently, that level of introspection doesn’t just come with right and wrong. It adds farces and facts. Am I supposed to say the truth in a softer voice? Am I to ignore facts and write euphemisms like we don’t know that colonizers like Columbus came to kill and steal?

I suppose it would be easier to forget that pirates in the 1600s were Black women, that ships didn’t have an integrated crew, all while sailing with a cargo hold of chattel slaves.

Ooops. A company with a $65 Billion dollar market cap instructed me to say a cargo hold of chattel imprisonment.

Le Sigh.

And then we arrive at my favorite time of year: Thanksgiving, the holiday my mother owned. She held it close to her heart like the pride of a champion athlete. Forget the World Series or the Boston Marathon—Thanksgiving was her event. She trained for it all year. She curated pumpkin ornaments and gleaming charger plates in reds and deep oranges. She laid out gravy boats and soup tureens like treasured relics. And I fought—fiercely—to inherit the Fitz and Floyd pig that keeps the yeast rolls warm. Not just because it’s pretty, but because it symbolizes everything, she taught me: family gathering, long hours in the kitchen, bending over backward to make others feel warm and welcomed and in life pigs are allowed to be pretty.

Hospitality was one of my mother’s greatest legacies.I hope—truly hope—that I embody even a portion of that in my life and work. But I won’t lie: this year it has been hard.

Hard to be hospitable.

Hard to turn the other cheek when the other side of the equation seems intent on destruction.

Hard to smile when some would prefer you feel small, insignificant, or silenced.

Hard to create when your work is dismissed as nothing or there have been too many Caribbean books.

On social media, I may laugh and joke. I may sing polite praises of my enemies—and those who I no longer esteem as highly as I once did. There are exceptions, of course. And y’all know exactly who they are—65 Billion dollar company. But I digress.

In a few days, it will be Thanksgiving.And I am giving thanks.

I am thankful for my family.I am thankful for my friends.I am thankful for my colleagues—past and present.And I am deeply thankful for you, my listeners and my readers.

Without you, I wouldn’t have the hope I carry for the coming year.Without you, there would be no Write of Passage or stories reaching new tables.

No late-night messages about characters who’ve haunted me until I shared their story.

No shared laughter over inside jokes you’ve begun to catch—because you know me. And I love getting to know you.

Thank you for the letters, the comments.Thank you for the likes, the shares, and every conversation you sparked.Thank you for recommending this podcast, or my latest books Fire Sword and Sea, or old favorites like Island Queen or A Duke, the Lady, and A Baby. Your hospitality—your generosity—has lifted the low moments and made the high ones shine even brighter.

So as we gather around our Thanksgiving tables, I want you to know that I’m grateful for you. I’m hopeful for the new year—hopeful for the clearing away of old spaces, the opening of new ones. I am happy about the tables I sit at and the ones I walk away from with peace.

I am thankful for the power to know who I am.And the courage to become who I want to be.

I write about characters who make that choice every day—who decide, despite their flaws and wounds and circumstances, to grow into the person they long to become. My wish for you, for everyone within the sound of my voice, and for every reader who picks up one of my books is simple:

May you live your greatest adventure.May you become who you were always meant to be.And may that parent, that person who loved you so deeply—whether sitting across the Thanksgiving table or watching from above—look at you and see their brightest legacy shining.

This week’s books to reflect upon are:

Unreasonable Hospitality by Will Guidara A powerful, modern meditation on the radical generosity that transforms people.

The Kindness Diaries: One Man’s Quest to Ignite Goodwill and Transform Lives Around the World by Leon Logothetis Inspiring real-life story of a man traveling the world relying solely on the kindness of strangers.

Hallelujah! The Welcome Table: A Lifetime of Memories with Recipes by Maya Angelou — A collection of essays + recipes that really celebrate food, memory, and welcome.

For a taste of fiction, food and healing, check out Bitter and Sweet by Christy Award winner Rhonda McKnight.

I can’t believe we are less than seven weeks away from the release of course Fire Sword and Sea on January 13th, 2026. Caribbean women pirates—Black women pirates join French and Indigenous women to sail the seas. If you’re a librarian, vote for this book now in Library Reads in Edelweiss and NetGalley. Indie Next is voting now too. Time is almost up.

This week, I’m highlighting Fox Tale Book Store through their website and Bookshop.org .

Consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea from FoxTale or one of my partners in the fight, bookstore’s large and small who are in this with me.

Come on my readers. Let’s get everyone excited for truth.

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 on board, press that like button, subscribe, and share Write of Passage. Never miss a moment. We have work to do. And I need 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

Merriam-Webster defines dissatisfaction simply as “a lack of satisfaction.” And yes—that’s accurate. But if you look a little deeper, you’ll find another definition, a lack of contentment, a restless aspiration.

Aspire means to breathe in or out, to draw something toward you or release something from within. So dissatisfaction becomes this restless desire to pull something in or push something out—and that restlessness can freeze you in place.

In the writing world, dissatisfaction usually means that I’m staring at the words on the page, and they’re not capturing the story I know I’m supposed to be telling. Something has failed. And now I must go back, line by line, analyzing the bones of the narrative and examine every part of the story structure.

And for my new writers out there, yes a story or novel should have structure, a framework that keeps the momentum and holds the theme together.

In this analysis, I look at each main character—and often the minor ones too. I check their goals. I review their belief systems. I trace the web of their relationships: who cares for whom, who fears them, who hates whom, and who is silently holding the line of loyalty. All of these connections form the living body of the world I’m creating.

And then there is the lie. Every character has one—the bit of disinformation they inherited or bought into, the wound that warped their worldview. It’s the thing they must confront and be healed of. If that lie isn’t strong enough, or the character has drifted too far from it, the story loses its heartbeat. In my process, that’s when the words feel stuck. I struggle with word count. And I must figure out why.

That’s Vanessa’s writing world.

But in the real world, dissatisfaction hits differently. When I feel that restless ache, I have to look at the characters I’m connected to—the real-life individuals doing life with me or choosing to let me do life with them. How are we connected? Are we missing something? Are there obvious signs of hurt or neglect we haven’t addressed?

Or is it the circumstances we’re all tangled in that’s causing problems?

Let’s be honest: the world is heavy right now. Yes, the government may be back to work, but people are still waiting to be reimbursed for the days they’ve labored without pay. Folks who need food assistance are facing real disruptions. And Thanksgiving is approaching—a time when people gather to share a meal, which becomes complicated if there are fractures sitting around the table. It’s hard to taste turkey if you’ve still got beef with somebody sitting across from you.

And yes, Thanksgiving is about turkey. But if you’re carrying beef, that’s another heavy protein to digest.

The truth is, if we don’t figure out why we are dissatisfied, it will take root. It will grow into bitterness—and bitterness is a treacherous ground to stand upon.

Bitterness wedges itself into the cracks of your soul, sets up spikes, and ensures that every movement hurts. Bitterness requires a sweet form of medicine or self-care to heal—or it spreads. Bitterness touches everything you make, everything you attempt, and everyone you care about.

Thanksgiving is my holiday. I inherited it from my mother. It’s a big deal for me. If you follow me on social media, you’ll start seeing the sample menus, the tablescapes, the design choices—all the details I pour myself into. It’s part of my self-care—the joy of gathering: the beauty and connection of family and friends around my table.

But as much as we gather, we all must admit the truth: Covid changed us. Elections bruised us. Hardness, fear, and callousness ruined how we move through the world.

As we head toward 2026, I believe it’s time to turn a new leaf. To be better than we were in 2025. The first step is breaking up the bitter ground and letting healing in.

So here are my steps to stop being bitter:

1. Admit you’re bitter. Say it outright. Bitterness can’t heal if you pretend it isn’t there.

2. Identify the source. What is making you bitter? Name it so you can face it.

3. Avoid the triggers. Just say no to people and actions that put you back into that headspace of vulnerability. And if you can’t avoid them, minimize them. If you can’t minimize them, prepare for them. Pray. You never know when they just might miss a flight.

4. Give up waiting for the apology. This is the hardest one.We hold on to bitterness because we want that moment—where the foul person, falls upon bended knees and says I was so wrong. In romance books, we wait for the grovel: the moment when the hero finally admits how deeply they messed up. And yes, that moment is sweet. But in real life? If you get it at all, it’s a gift. And this moment is not a guarantee, that the beef won’t happen again. Your life must continue either way. Your goals must continue. Your growth must continue.You cannot pause your wholeness on hold waiting for someone else to gain revelation.

And let me be clear: forgiving and moving on does not mean continuing in the harmful cycles. It means releasing the chain around your own ankle. If someone has shown you who they are, you don’t need further confirmation. You don’t need to go back to the well, testing the water again and again.

Vanessa, you are so mature. At my big age of 21+, no I am not. Do I feel trifling sometimes? Absolutely. Do I want to complain the whole way through of releasing bitterness? Yes. But staying in that cycle only deepens the pain. And when I stay connected to that system, the person, or the circumstance, it will hurt me again. I refuse to let it continue to win.

It’s better for me and my soul to forgive and move on.

In Fire Sword and Sea, Jacquotte Delahaye has every reason to be bitter. Life delivers blow after blow to this young woman’s life. But the evidence of that life—her legend, her accomplishments—tells me she never stayed stuck. She didn’t wait for an apology. She picked up a sword. She fought her way to the next moment, the next rung on the ladder, until she became a pirate captain. And she brought her crew—her chosen people—along with her.

If you read Fire Sword and Sea and take away nothing else, take this:Success, particularly shared success, is the way to defeat bitterness.

And for Jacquotte’s example, I am not bitter at all:

This week’s books to reflect upon are:

All About Love by bell hooksA profound meditation on how love—of self, community, and truth—becomes the antidote to bitterness and disconnection.

The Beautiful Struggle by Ta-Nehisi CoatesA lyrical coming-of-age memoir about healing, survival, family, and forging meaning from difficulty.

The Body Is Not an Apology by Sonya Renee TaylorInvites readers to embrace radical self-love as a path out of resentment, trauma, and social conditioning.

Rest Is Resistance by Tricia HerseyA manifesto urging us to reject grind culture and reconnect with rest, healing, and humanity.

And of course Fire Sword and Sea by Vanessa Riley. Caribbean women pirates—Black women pirates join French and Indigenous women to sail the seas. Fire Sword and Sea releases January 13th, 2026. If you’re a librarian, vote for this book now in Library Reads in Edelweiss and NetGalley. Indie Next is voting now too.

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

Consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea from Book People or one of my partners in the fight, bookstore’s large and small who are in this with me.

We are less two months away the January 13th release. Come on my crew. Let’s get excited.

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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