On December 6, 2024, I sat down to write my feelings after licking my wounds from the America I woke up to on November 5. 2024.

The country felt less kind. Definitely, less gentle. This America willingly choosing boisterous, noisy incompetence, and the awful idea that your neighbor stole your opportunity. This choice was madeover competence, compassion, and stable beef prices.

So I did what I know how to do.

I wrote my feelings. I put pen to paper—or more accurately, fingers to keyboard—and I put all my thoughts and my heart on to the page. This essay launched my Substack.

I wrote a quote:

“But mama, I’m in love with a criminal,

And this type of love isn’t rational, it’s physical.

Mama, please don’t cry, I will be alright,

All reason aside, I just can’t deny, I love the guy.”

– Britney Spears, “Criminal” (Femme Fatale, 2011)

This was my Luigi Mangione phase.

To be honest, I was confused about Substack. Is is a newsletter? Is it a social media? Is it something else. But once, I played with the format and tossed up a podcast post, and you guys downloaded it, I got bigger ideas and turned to you guys for accountability. I would write one podcast essay for a year.

So the first podcast episode/ essay was The Weight of “Diverse”. My take of what was happening in publishing. Thrilling. And you tuned in. We’re almost at 17,000 downloads and hundreds of thousands of Substack views.

This was a unique challenge. I’m glad I stuck with this form of writing.

But, people often say, Vanessa, you write books. You’re always writing your heart. And that’s true. But there’s also a distance when I write about other people’s lives. It’s not me. I’m not the main character. Writing good historical fiction, romance, or mystery requires analysis. It requires restraint. I don’t pass judgment on the lives I’m bringing back to you.

In Sister Mother Warrior, I could not fault a Dahomey Warrior from following her king’s orders to sell captives any more than I can pass judgement on a 2025 sailor following his naval chief’s commands to bomb a fishing vessel. It’s the commanders of US Forces in the Caribbean and its chain of command that bringing back pirates.

But I digress.

If I were Jacquotte Delahaye, I might’ve stayed in the kitchen in Tortuga making soup, not run away to live a dream as a pirate. As a writer, I have to make their chaos—make sense. Otherwise, I’m not doing you the reader any good. And I refuse to dishonor the lives I’ve been entrusted with.

Everything I write in those books is layered on hard-fought facts: databases, archival digging, obscure records, and I do whatever it takes to bring readers closer to secret history, closer than they’ve ever been before.

Why?

I’m tired of women, particularly Black women and women of color, being portrayed as only victims in history. As if they survived history only through endurance, servitude, or some narrow “mammy-fixation” lens. My work insists they were complex, capable, and human.

But writing these weekly essay—this space—was different.

The first essay I wrote here was messy. Conflicted. It carried my trademark style to walk readers into someone else’s shoes, even when that perspective is uncomfortable. It also came with a promise I made to myself: that here, I would be open. Vulnerable. That I would talk to you as friends—friends willing to sit with my essay and listen.

For 52 weeks—an entire year—I’ve shown up. Most Mondays, I record in the evening, setting everything up so that by Tuesday at 9:10 AM, you’d receive something new. A weekly offering. A kind of fresh manna. Each episode was labor but it’s also a small love letter from me to you.

I’m, unapologetically, a write-aholic. But keeping that pace hasn’t been easy. There were nights I wanted sleep more than words. Days when another book’s edits or word count loomed. But when I commit to something I believe matters, I show up. I do the work.

For 52 weeks, you’ve allowed me to stand on the proverbial rooftop and shout my thoughts into what could have been a void.

But it wasn’t a void. You were there—listening, encouraging, learning, reflecting. Thank you.

This work takes effort. Real effort. From shaping ideas to wrestling them into coherence, then editing and distributing across platforms. We won’t even get into the technical gymnastics of getting everything out into the world.

Still, I’m grateful. I’m grateful we’re on Substack. On Apple Podcasts. On Spotify, iHeartRadio, Amazon Music, Spreaker, and YouTube. Each platform grows at its own pace, each teaches me something new. And I’m especially grateful that you are here.

As we head into the final weeks of 2025, I want to be clear: I’m not going anywhere.

Season Two begins next week. For the most part, this new year will continue as a weekly offering—my thoughts, shaped into essays. Occasionally, I may invite a guest, someone I’m learning from, someone who stretches my thinking. But this is not an interview show. There are plenty of those already. This space remains what it has always been: a place for reflection, curiosity, and shared thought. And when something special comes along, I’ll bring it here first—to my friends.

So thank you. Truly. Thank you for tuning in every week. For commenting, sharing, downloading, and telling others about this podcast. In some dark moments this year, your presence mattered more than you know. To everyone who has paid a subscription, you have blessed me. If I don’t have your mailing address, please email it to me. I have a writing journal that I’ve designed that I want to send to you.

And finally as I close Season One, I’ll leave you with this encouragement: we all have a right of passage. But I don’t want us to sail past each other like ships in the night. I want us to sit together—to talk, to think about the bigger ideas and the higher places we might go, together.

This week’s booklist is last week’s spotlight. Books 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.

The Seven Daughters of Dupree by Nikesha Elise Williams — A multi‑generational family epic following seven Dupree women.

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

Last First Kiss by Julian Winters — A second‑chance, slow‑burn romance about an Atlanta event planner.

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 and her sister uncover sinister dealings at a retirement village.

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

Consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea from The Book Worm Bookstore 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.

Enjoying the vibe? Ready for Season 2? Go ahead and like this episode, share, 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

Originally posted 2025-12-16 14:10:00.

Walter Mosley said it a month ago on a Zoom for The Center for Black Literature’s

Summer Series. And in his MasterClass. I say it all the time. To get your novel finished, you need to have your butt in a chair and write every day. Whom are you going to believe—us or your lying unfinished manuscript?

Putting Yourself and Your Words First

When you’ve written a lot of books, people want to know how you do it. They ask about plotting techniques. Are you a pantser? A planster? Do you bounce between scenes or write straight through? What craft books do you recommend? Are you a morning writer or an evening writer?

All valid questions. I enjoy talking about the work.

But the advice I give that seems to generate the most consternation is this: write every day.

“Now, Vanessa. When you say every day, do you mean every day? Don’t you take Sundays off? Don’t you go on vacation? What about Christmas? Surely you take off for Christmas.”

Some of you are already looking at your work calendars, making me your HR rep trying to get me to approve your days off.

Here’s what I mean by writing every day: take those words as literally as you need to take them to establish, in your own mind and spirit, that your writing matters.

You need to believe that writing deserves a respected place in your routine.

Your words don’t always have to wait until another month of research. Until you read another craft book. It doesn’t need to wait for a new, different notebook. You shouldn’t have to wait for a weekend when nobody needs anything from you.

If you’ve allowed your writing life to build up excuses, forgive yourself. Begin anew. But let’s begin with vigor and consistency.

But Write Every Day?

Yes, there are days when—clutch the pearls—I don’t work on a manuscript. But I’ve written something, probably an essay for a podcast. Hint, hint. Or a little reflection for social media. Or something in my journal.

Does that finish my novel?

No. And I have to be honest with myself about that. A beautifully written caption will not resolve the emotional conflict or lack of tension I left my characters in three chapters ago.

But every bit of writing keeps my writing muscles taut. Stringing coherent words together are like calisthenics. Arranging sentences are yogo. Any attempt at trying to get what’s in my head onto a page is a useful one. For me, daily writing makes returning to the manuscript easier.

I’m telling you that writing is a muscle. And I want mine limber and strong, ready to work when I need it.

Have you ever joined a gym or bought exercise equipment?

In the beginning, there’s so much excitement. You have plans. You have goals. You have sneakers.

Naturally, the sneakers need to be cute.

Maybe you buy athletic wear. A matching set. Something that announces you are a person who intends to take this exercise business seriously.

Then you do the workout.

And the next morning, your legs have questions. Parts of your body angrily ask what are you doing.

Eventually, the excitement of buying the equipment and icy heat lotion wear off, and you have to decide whether you’re going to keep at this.

Writing asks that question, too.

You bought the notebook. You downloaded the software. You found the perfect pen, the best journal. But, will you return to the work when the first burst of excitement wears off? How about when a scene is difficult? What about when you see words on a page and none of it comes out bearing any resemblance to the beautiful ones you imagined?

That’s where I believe many stop, when they need their muscles to push through.

This past week, I was at the Writing Sisters Summit, hosted by Nina Foxx, in Taos, New Mexico.

The air was fresh. The mountains were magnificent. The dirt roads were scary.

I want to be clear: I appreciated the scenery. I have lingering questions about the roads.

But the sisterhood at the treat was amazing.

Wanda Morris, Pamela Samuels Young, Sheila Williams, and I joined the faculty, bringing our experiences to a vibrant group of women writing across genres and at different stages of their careers. Some were working toward their first books. Others had been at this for years.

We had time to talk about the writing and industry challenges. To ask questions and stay for the answers. To hear someone describe a struggle and recognize a little of our own.

And yes, I got up early. I know. Another revelation.

I walked the trails outside, feeling the crisp morning air on my cheeks. There was a slight breeze that smelled of sage. I took pictures, lots of pictures. I want to remember and treasure this experience.

Then I switched from my camera to my Notes app and dictated thoughts about the project I’m working on.

A phrase. A possibility. Something I was beginning to understand about the next new book.

That counts, boys and girls.

Was it the most productive writing session of my life? Word count-wise, no.

But I was able to work out and articulate the premise of my next book. Something I’d been reaching for became clear. I captured it and brought it home.

That is useful work. That’s words in a Note.

My notes and journals are not a polished exhibit of perfect syntax and amazing grammar. There can be pages of disconnected phrases. Somethings will only make sense only to me. My daughter has license to destroy certain documents when I’m gone so your vision of me and being literate will be preserved.

I’m being humorous, but I want you to understand that my daily writing isn’t perfect writing, sometimes it’s not good writing.

A scene may begin as a few lines of dialogue. A character’s motivation may show up as something different than my outline. You may write a paragraph and realize the only sentence you need is the last one. It’s okay to write the paragraph to find it. That why editing and revision are powerful.

But every word and thought dump in my daily writing moves me closer to a completed project.

I think we struggle to write because we want prove that our writing is brilliant, and we’re setting up that moment to share with someone. That is too much pressure. And it’s unfair to you and your words.

Daily writing for me, has taken away that pressure. I’m asking for words. Brilliance will come with editing and revision. And truthfully, the word the end needs to come before I start editing.

Let me take a moment to say, sign up for word time. Find a writing retreat. If you can make it work, take the mini vacation. Plan the staycation. Find a local hotel with good room service—or reliable delivery—and give yourself some time with your words.

It’s OK to go alone or together with other writers. You can start today pencilling in time on your calendar.

The Writing Sisters Summit

There was something deeply nourishing about being in Taos with women who had made room for their words. We stepped away from our usual responsibilities long enough to hear ourselves think.

I came away feeling connected to the work and to the people doing it.

I hope the women who joined us carried that feeling home, along with the things they learned and the pages they began.

The retreat deepened my love for making room in my ordinary life for writing. I can’t wait for another mountain view or vineyard or rushing river or ocean.

Today, I’m back in my office, answering emails, looking at my obligations. There definitely a stack of laundry to do.

And there is the book, that I’m closer to finishing than I was yesterday, because my dedicated writing does this.

For a very long time, my writing time was between 10 PM and 2 AM. I worked a full-time engineering job, and still am a full-time wife and mother. So every day doesn’t mean hours of writing necessarily.

Every day doesn’t look the same. Some days I have the same hours. Some days I have small pockets of time. I use what I have.

Journaling and essays keep me writing, but eventually I have to return to the people waiting inside a manuscript. So the other non-book writing can’t take over. But I’ll take words any way I can get them on to the page.

Consider your writing life for a moment.

Are you giving it regular attention? Are you allowing it to lie to you. Are your writing muscles feeble from lack of exercise? Are you asking them to perform whenever you have a little free time and coming up with blank pages?

Maybe after this podcast spend a few minutes stringing together words or add a few thoughts about your latest idea to the page.

If I write 50-150 words a day, consistently, I can have a novella or short novel done in a year.

It’s doable. Take a moment and

work through one exchange between two characters. Maybe you dictate the thought that came to you on a walk. Then during tomorrow’s writing time develop it.

Then commit to coming back to the project the next day. Habits form by doing—not wishing and hoping.

Doing needs to happen.

Even when it’s awkward.

Even when I’m tired.

Even when there’s something on the TV…

Even when there’s a food fight in Book Social Media

In Walter Mosley’s MasterClass he say his Rule number one: Write every day. It’s nonnegotiable.

I agree.

Your unfinished manuscript agrees too. The chores and regular life say—“Naaaw. Writing can wait.”

Who are you going to believe, your word count or procrastination?

This week’s booklist includes:

* Hanging and Burning⁠ — Walter Mosley. A dying gangster hires investigator Joe King Oliver to find his missing granddaughter, drawing him into a family history of violence and buried secrets (Releases Oct. 20, 2026).

* This Never Happens Here⁠ — Wanda M. Morris. Two detectives investigate a disturbing pattern of murdered parents and missing children in Atlanta’s wealthy suburbs (Feb. 16, 2027).

* Sounds Like Trouble⁠ — Pamela Samuels Young and Dwayne Alexander Smith. Two private investigators juggle their simmering attraction and clashing personalities while tracking down a mysterious package for dangerous mobsters.

* Daughters of the Wind⁠ — Sheila Williams. A corporate executive who secretly commands the winds must gather powerful women across time to confront a looming climate catastrophe (Dec. 1, 2026).

* Island Secrets: A Queens of Kiawah Story⁠ — Nina Foxx. On South Carolina’s exclusive Kiawah Island, a cozy mystery blends murder, romance, and closely guarded secrets.

* Murder in St. James’s Park⁠ — Vanessa Riley. When Lady Worthing discovers her husband murdered, her search for his killer exposes secrets that challenge her judgment and shake her family.

This week’s indie bookstore spotlight is Reparations Club, a Black-owned, woman-owned bookstore and creative space in Los Angeles, California. Purchasing through this episode’s Bookshop.org links supports Reparations Club. If you’re ever in Los Angeles, stop by, browse the shelves, and give them some book love! In fact, check out my other partners in the fight, bookstores large and small, who are in the trenches fighting for literacy.

Remember to check my Resources Center on my website for my writing downloads. Lots of free and low-cost tools that I’ve made available to help you on your writing journey.

If this podcast sparked something in you, show some love—hit like, share the episode, and subscribe to Write of Passage!

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, share the episode, and subscribe to Write of Passage!

Thank you for being here.

I want you to 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