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Write of Passage by Vanessa Riley

Write of Passage by Vanessa Riley

By: Vanessa Riley
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Join bestselling author Vanessa Riley as she delves into untold histories, reflects on current events through a historical lens, shares behind-the-scenes writing insights, and offers exclusive updates on her groundbreaking novels.

vanessariley.substack.comVanessa Riley Social Sciences
Episodes
  • Making Sure They Get Home

    Making Sure They Get Home
    Jul 7 2026
    I don’t think Southern hospitality is just about sweet tea. I think it’s making sure everyone has a good time and gets home alive.Southern hospitality is supposed to mean something.Growing up, the Fourth of July meant my mother’s barbecue. It wasn’t just dinner. It became the neighborhood gathering, the family reunion you didn’t know you were having. Friends drifted in. A few cousins or uncles might show. No one brought anything because even Mama had already made it with at least three different options. You came because my mother cooked, and everyone knew that meant you were going to leave full, laughing. You were going to have a good time.That was Southern hospitality on a 4th of July Weekend. It was exciting, even before the fireworks.But this Fourth of July felt different.I don’t know many people who gathered with neighbors. Most stayed home. Even the celebrations in Washington, D.C. looked very quiet, quieter than I expected for America’s 250th birthday. Across the country, storms interrupted festivities, forcing some families to seek shelter—even inside the African American History Museum. Others didn’t feel the hospitality as they rode on buses with White Supremacists and Reuters photographers. I’d like to think that the photographers would’ve been neighborly and helped out, but they had a duty, I suppose, to capture the mask-wearing marchers.Sometimes hospitality means making a safe environment. No one should be fearful on the 4th of July.Again. This 4th felt different.No amount of BBQ or sweet tea can make up for fear or anguish. What happened to checking on your neighbors, making sure everyone has a ride, or that they make it home to call their mother?I thought about how my mother always wanted to know where I was, who I was with, and who the adults were. At the time, it felt overprotective.Now it feels like another expression of hospitality.Real hospitality isn’t simply welcoming people in.It’s making sure they get home.There are families who will never forget this holiday weekend because someone they loved didn’t make it home. My heart especially goes out to the family of Nolan Wells, a young Black man who went to celebrate with friends and never came home. Amid the unimaginable grief, his mother publicly thanked the volunteers, the United Cajun Navy, local law enforcement, and neighbors who searched alongside her.That, too, is Southern hospitality, showing up when someone else is hurting.On Sunday, the 5th, I had the opportunity to be hospitable to my readers at a release party to celebrate the of A Deal at Dawn. II held a tea party.What better way to celebrate a Regency romance?Picture tablecloths, teacups, ceramic platters, cookies, flowers, and just enough balloons to make a corner of Barnes & Noble feel less like a bookstore and more like someone’s parlor. We were tucked into the music section, and honestly, what could be more neighborly than books and music sharing the same space?Of course, I have a terrible habit of never doing anything halfway.I love to cook. Left to my own devices, every gathering becomes a catered affair. But Barnes & Noble has a café, which meant there were limits on bringing in outside food.Reality met Southern determination.I had to get creative.Normally, my backup plan is Cheryl’s Cookies. I always keep a stash in the freezer for emergencies. They’re delicious, dependable, and have rescued me on more than one gathering.But this wasn’t an emergency.This was a celebration.I kept thinking about the afternoon my daughter and I spent at the Russian Tea Room in New York. The tiny pastries. The beautiful presentation. The sense that every bite had been chosen with care.If I couldn’t recreate that menu, I could recreate the feeling.Every Southern tea needs cake.So I invented tea cake cupcakes.The recipe grew out of the world of A Deal at Dawn. While writing the novel, I kept returning to preserved fruits and candies. In eighteenth-century Saint Petersburg, oranges were rare luxuries. When people had them, they treasured them, preserving every bit they could in marmalades and jams.That became my inspiration.I took my favorite pound cake recipe, whipped the butter until it was impossibly light, folded in rich orange marmalade, and added buttermilk because Southern baking practically demands it. The result tasted like sunshine tucked inside a cupcake.Maybe it was over the top.But it was neighborly.That’s what Southern cooks do.I get it from my mother.I get it from the soil and the air that she raised me in.I want to feed people.I want them to slow down.I want them to feel safe.I want them to feel seen.As joyful as Sunday was, the weekend as whole kept reminding me why those things matter. I’m often asked which book signing has been my favorite. Every signing is my favorite.Whether one person comes or a hundred, someone has carved out space in their day to spend time with me and my stories. They’ve read my books, shared them ...
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    12 mins
  • Access Isn’t Permission

    Access Isn’t Permission
    Jun 30 2026
    Here’s a dangerous lie the internet tells us: if information is public, it’s fair game. If I have to do a little hunting, a little scraping to get it—well, that just shows how clever I am.If I told you that this can be harmful. And that some of us don’t know that this invasion of privacy can erode trust forever—would you still do it? We are one like away from being unforgiven.Access Isn’t PermissionWhat is unforgivable?That sounds like a grand philosophical question. And I’m not asking this in the courtroom or commandment sense but in the everyday ways we treat each other. What crosses that simple line of right and slightly harmless wrong?Is it oversharing? Gossip? A tidbit of seductive knowledge that you found that no one else has publicly announced?Does this secret knowledge make you feel powerful?Before we go there, I need to define two words that have become part of our modern vocabulary.The first is parasocial.A parasocial relationship is a one-sided relationship where an audience member feels a deep connection to a public figure. That audience member or voyeur doesn’t actually know the public person personally, but they are invested. I’m guilty of this. I take it personally when people condemn Meghan Markle, the Duchess of Sussex, for breathing. When herAs Ever debuted, it sold out in 5 minutes. I was part of that shopping fest.A parasocial relationship is not inherently unhealthy. More and more it’s part of being an artist. Brands and publishers want that vibe to push sales. Readers want to feel like they know an author. It means so much when our words have entertained them on lonely nights and comforted them through grief.The second word is never good, doxxing. Doxxing is the act of publicly revealing someone’s private, identifying information without their consent. Often, doxxing will mean someone has published home addresses, phone numbers, places of work, or more.Recently, my friend, bestselling romance author Kennedy Ryan, appeared on a podcast with Jenna Bush, and during a lighthearted conversation about pen names, Kennedy shared that she originally adopted a pseudonym to protect her professional career and now continues to use it to protect her peace.Her peace. Catch that part.Not because she was hiding. Not because she was ashamed.Because she wanted boundaries. She deserves boundaries so she can keep a piece of herself and her life for herself.Soon afterward, the internet sleuths, parasocial avengers, began circulating her legal name in posts and threads online. Some have actually argued that releasing a legal name isn’t really doxxing because her legal name had been publicly discoverable for years.I’m sorry…Since when did intent or access excuse the action?If someone tells you, “This is private. This is how I protect myself and my family,” and you decide to broadcast that information anyway, what exactly are you accomplishing? Congrats! You’re smart. You can scrape metadata and websites. Feel good.Maybe placate your conscience because you didn’t post her home address.Hey, you didn’t hack a bank account. So clearly you are different. You’re in a category above criminals.Just because you didn’t intend harm, that doesn’t mean you didn’t cause harm. You ignored a clearly stated boundary. That’s the part our conscience should struggle with.Is it an unforgivable offense? That’s not for me to decide.What does this violation do? Hopefully, no legal harm, but you’ve made everyone on the receiving side of a fandom or readership more cautious and potentially more closed off.If you go to threads, you can see this in real time.One person wrote: “One day, in the very near future, y’all are going to lose all access to your favorite authors.”Another author wrote about feeling so violated “after her government name was shared,” that she endured harassment, stalking, and cyber abuse so severe she nearly abandoned writing forever.Another creator, from the gaming community, described having her address and phone number spread online, receiving death threats, and watching her mother become a target of harassment. It took years of therapy before she felt safe again.All of these are different situations.Different levels of harm.Yet, they all share a common thread: Someone else decided that another person’s boundaries didn’t matter.As authors, we want readers to love our books.We want to meet you. We want to laugh with you at signings, hug you at festivals, celebrate release days together. We want to feel close.But there is a distinct difference between closeness and entitlement.Writing is my profession. It is also one of the most personal things I do. Every novel asks me to hand over pieces of myself.My fears.My questions.My hopes.And sometimes my grief.Whether you’re a novelist, painter, musician, actor, graphics designer, or sculptor—every work of art contains something deeply personal. You struggle and learn—really learn—to release ...
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    16 mins
  • Three Lessons About Joy and Messes

    Three Lessons About Joy and Messes
    Jun 23 2026
    What if the best thing that happened to you this week was the thing you didn’t want?A canceled flight. A collapsed bookcase. An unexpected lesson about time. Today, I’m sharing three lessons about joy, messes, and the surprising gifts hidden inside life’s interruptions.Three Lessons About Joy and MessesThree things happened within roughly the same stretch of time.The first was an incredible weekend in Nantucket with my daughter. It was the ultimate girls’ trip—great food, great company, wonderful conversations, and the chance to explore museums, historical sites, and a place filled with stories. We laughed, wandered, and simply enjoyed being together. It was intentional time. Planned time. Chosen time.The second thing was completely unexpected.Mr. Weather decided we weren’t leaving when we thought we would. A canceled flight forced us to stay overnight, which led us to spend a day at the TWA Hotel at JFK Airport. And honestly? It was magical.Expensive, yes—but magical.We wandered through the restored 1960s hair salon, explored the airplane turned cocktail lounge, and admired the sweeping curves of the architecture. The rounded concrete forms and futuristic design made it feel as if we had stepped back into another era. Watching my daughter’s eyes light up was perhaps the best part. As a budding architect, she noticed every detail, every design choice, every intentional curve and angle. What could have been an inconvenience became an adventure.And then there was the third thing.A bookcase that had been warning me for months that it was in trouble finally gave up the fight. It crashed. Spectacularly.Books everywhere.Hundreds of them.The floor disappeared beneath a sea of hardcovers, paperbacks, research materials, and treasures collected over years.Unlike Nantucket, this wasn’t something I wanted to do.Unlike the weather delay, it wasn’t unexpected.It was something I knew needed attention and chose to ignore.The pile demanded my time.Now what do all three experiences have in common.Time.One was time I deliberately chose.One was time unexpectedly given.And one was time owed but thought the problem could wait.Life is always moving forward, and sometimes we get to decide exactly how we’ll spend our time. Other times, circumstances decide for us. Some things arrive as gifts. Some arrive as burdens. And then we get those as warnings of a future time sink that we ignore.But what if we approached all of it with the same attitude?What if every moment became an opportunity for exploration?What can we learn?What can we share?What joy can come from it?Finding joy in Nantucket wasn’t difficult. Being with my daughter was a joy. Every conversation, every laugh, every walk through a museum or hanging with other writers reminded me how precious shared experiences can be.Finding joy in an unexpected airport hotel stay wasn’t difficult either. Adventure often hides inside inconvenience if we’re willing to look for it.The fallen bookcase, however, required a different kind of joy.Because when I looked at that mess, I realized I had choices.I could pile the books in a corner and move on.Or I could use the moment as an opportunity.Maybe it’s time to redesign my office.Maybe it’s time to give everything a permanent home.Maybe it’s time to display the objects that inspire me every day when I sit down to work.And what about that desk?It’s too big.It’s cluttered.It’s become claustrophobic.Maybe it’s time for that to go too.My workspace should reflect who I’ve become.Writing is not a hobby for me.For some people, it may be. But for me, it’s work. It’s my livelihood. It’s bread and butter. Its purpose and profession wrapped together.My office should reflect the writer I’ve become, not the writer I used to be.That means making hard choices.Some books will stay.The research books? They’re never leaving. Those are tools of the trade. They need to be dusted, organized, protected, and placed where I can easily access them.But do I need multiple copies of the same book?Probably not.Some of my collection will find new homes in Little Free Libraries across Atlanta, where they’ll continue their journey with new readers.Collectors understand this struggle. We love our treasures. But sometimes holding on to everything prevents us from making room for what’s next.And that’s really the lesson.Somewhere between the planned retreat, the canceled flight, and the collapsed bookcase, I found a reminder that peace isn’t found only in perfect circumstances.Sometimes peace is released in how we respond.There’s wisdom hidden in delays.And we should find gratitude in survivable messes.Life is made up of choices.The expected and unexpected.The joyful and the inconvenient.The burdensome and the beautiful.Every moment asks something of us. The question is whether we are listening.This week’s book list:The Midnight Library by Matt HaigA beautiful meditation on choices, alternate paths, ...
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    11 mins
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