Episodes

  • Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

    Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire
    Apr 7 2026
    “Liar, liar, pants on fire! ” On the playground we used to yell this at someone who did something dishonest. We were in their faces. We demanded better.Somewhere along the way, that simple standard faded. Now, lies don’t get called out—they get likes.Scrolling yesterday on Twitter, and I saw a tweet about A$AP Rocky cheating on Rihanna—that thing was completely false, yet it spread like melting butter on warm toast.Saw bits of a speech claiming to have decimated Iran’s capabilities only to have two of our airplanes shot down. I think someone was lying. Politicians bend the truth, put our troops in harm’s way and get mad when they are fact checked by bombed wreckage.Then there’s the lies we’re all guilty of— picking up pictures that look so polished that they barely resemble reality.It makes me stop and ask: whatever happened to the truth? Does it exist? Has it been trampled on these social streets and stomped on, crushed into the pavement like dust beneath our feet?According to Statistica, internet users around the globe average 6 hours and 38 minutes of being online daily. We, here in the United States, average around 10. Imagine the amount of curated illusions, we’ve soaked up. Edited photos, staged luxury trips, and even fake relationships have become some kind of digital currency.And with AI tools, bots, and filters, it’s never been easier to lie. Anyone can build a perfect life or post an outrageous Am I the A*****e Tweet, something so patently false but meant for catching casually, scrolling eyeballs.And when we see digital attention, those “likes” appear to translate into status, attention, and brand deals, the temptation to lie grows stronger.But what does that do to our souls?At first, it seems harmless. A little extra filter here. A small exaggeration there. But over time, these little distortions pile up. Truth shouldn’t be flexible. Authenticity should never be optional.And yet, we now kinda expect it.When lies are constant, they stop shocking us—and that might be the most dangerous part how easily we now accept this reality.That’s a deep cost. We compare our real lives to someone else’s fabricated one, and feel like we’re falling short. We measure our accomplishments against illusions.Then some of us feel the tug, the draw to keep up. How can we ever compete with lies.It amazes me what we are now willing to accept as normal. Dishonesty has become normalized. We see it in headlines and in speeches.Lies which would’ve gotten me kicked off the playground or grounded at home are now laughed at as everyday conversations.The line between truth and fiction keeps blurring, until it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. And yet, we all know—deep down—that our values are being lost.I want to go back to a time—real or imagined—when integrity mattered. When being a “good man” or a “good woman” meant something solid. When your word carried weight. When truth wasn’t negotiable, even when it was inconvenient.Integrity is more than just telling the truth—it’s about who you are when no one is watching. It’s about choosing honesty even when a lie would be easier, faster, or more rewarding. It’s about building a life that doesn’t need filters to look meaningful.The internet may reward illusion, but real life should still depend on truth. I want to trust in relationships, the credibility of our leaders, and see respect in our communities. None of this exists without honesty. Once trust is broken, it’s very far hard to rebuild any reputation crafted online.So maybe it’s time to bring back not just “Liar, liar, pants on fire,” but the will to challenge ourselves and others back to being real.In a world full of curated lies, the truth should be the one thing that binds us together, the one thing that doesn’t need editing.Speaking of Liars - How about murderous liars, today, is the release of the audiobook for Murder in Berkeley Square. Get cozy, as our intrepid Lady Worthing is snowed in with murderers. You know some bodies.Need More Liars?Let’s not forget the our ladies who have to fib about their identities. Female pirates in disguise. Have you gotten a copy of Fire Sword and Sea—the audio is amazing. And come out to see me April 11th, Come to Conyers Book Festival. April 12th, meet Michigan at the Detroit Public Library. All my friends and General Motors buddies come on out. I am not lying when I say, I want to see you.This week’s book list all lies:The Death of Truth, Notes on Falsehood in the Age of Trumpby Michiko Kakutani Examines how political rhetoric, media, and culture have eroded respect for facts.Algorithms of Oppression, How Search Engines Reinforce Racism by Safiya Umoja Noble Reveals how search engines and digital platforms perpetuate bias and misinformation.The Boyfriend Project by Farrah Rochon Follows a woman rebuilding her life after a viral cheating scandal.Need more liars?A Deal at Dawn ...
    Show More Show Less
    10 mins
  • Create. Deliver. Disappear?

    Create. Deliver. Disappear?
    Mar 31 2026
    Time is spinning. Faster than truth. Faster than publishing. Faster than we can think.Half the workforce is going gig—but writers? We were the prototype.Now AI wants in, the rules are changing, and the question isn’t can you write…It’s can you survive the revolution?Create. Deliver. Disappear?Time keeps spinning.Lately? It feels like it’s whirling faster than any of us can keep up with.I saw an article last week—data pulled from Statista and reported by Fast Company—that said by 2027, 86.5 million people in the United States will be freelancing, That’s over half the workforce.Half.Half of American workers won’t have a steady paycheck or dedicated pension. Half will be finishing one job while waiting and watching for the next.Half will be part of what they call the “gig economy” . But as I look around. The gig isn’t just coming. It’s here.As I chat with friends, I think we can commiserate. We are the original gig workers.We write a thing—out of nothing but imagination, research, and discipline—and then we send it out into the world. Sometimes directly to readers. Sometimes to agents who sell it to publishers.No matter the distribution, at the core, it’s the same model:Create. Deliver. Hope it sells. Do it again.Sound familiar?Nonetheless, something feels different right now.Time itself feels different.It’s March 31st, and I swear January was just yesterday.I was hawking Fire Sword and Sea- and folks don’t forget about it. I need your bookclubs to pick it up and discuss. We still need revolution.The air of oppression is the only thing that’s not speeding up. Anxiety has us constantly scrolling, looking for endless updates, the noise—wars, prices rising and Druski sketches. People are stockpiling water. And everyone’s trying to figure out is it Ai or truth? Where do we get news from. Substack? YouTube? TikTok? If it’s IG how do you fit all in 60-second posts?Everything is whirling, spinning faster.And layered on top of that acceleration is AI.What was supposed to be a technological revolution.With Hachette pulling the novel Shy Girl from publication because of AI editing…and New York Times parting ways with a Gig Book Reviewer —who used AI to help write a review that inadvertently borrowed elements of a Guardian review of “Watching Over Her” by Jean-Baptiste Andrea.The AI revolution is feeling a little French, as in the French Revolution. It’s chaos with forces pushing to AI - I’m looking at you Grammarly and Microsoft Copilot, And other forces trying to shame you for em dash usage— it’s chaos.Authors, like many other Gig workers are frightened.Let’s just say it plainly.Many of us have had our work scraped, borrowed, absorbed into systems we never consented to. And while companies like Anthropic have at least begun conversations around accountability and repair, the larger landscape still feels unsettled.Unclear.And very unstable.But—life keeps moving.So here we are, at the end of the first quarter, and I have to ask you—and myself:Have you accomplished what you thought you would this year?I’m sitting here thinking about everything that’s happened already with Fire Sword and Sea, how many of you made sure it wasn’t drowned out. They’re are more events happening. April 11th, Come to Conyers Book Festival. April 12th, meet Michigan at the Detroit Public Library. All my friends and GM buddies come on out.You will never know how good it feels when readers show up.There is joy in that.Real joy.And I’m grateful.Truly.But I would be lying if I said there wasn’t also fear, that the gig I love keeps evolving.We are living in a time where storytelling itself feels contested.There is pressure on what stories get told.Pressure on whose histories are preserved.Pressure on whose voices are amplified—or silenced.And publishing, like every other industry, is trying to find its footing in shifting political, cultural, and economic ground.Which means writers—especially emerging writers—are asking:Is there space for me?Will my story be welcomed?Or will it be turned away before it ever has a chance to live?I think about the next generation a lot.Are they being nourished?Are they being encouraged?Or are they being pushed out by chaos, by confusion, and systems that don’t yet know how to hold onto them?These stories don’t just disappear.They get lost. And when they get lost, we lose pieces of ourselves.So what does this all mean?We’re back to where we started.With the gig. And a marketplace that’s getting more crowded as we all become gig workers.Writing has always been uncertain.Always.There has never been a guarantee that the next book sells. That the next contract comes. Or that markets will hold.This isn’t new.It’s intensified.So what happens if the book gig dries up?That’s a real fear I’ve been sitting with.Luckily, I’ve done indie publishing and tech startups. I know what it means to build something from nothing. To ...
    Show More Show Less
    13 mins
  • Vibing to Peace

    Vibing to Peace
    Mar 24 2026
    journal they could find.Vanessa, that sounds odd.Hear me out.Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do for yourself is something small that will nurture your soul.Give yourself something beautiful to focus on. In a world that feels chaotic, overwhelming, even war-torn—surviving is learning how to vibe.And you vibe by writing or singing or thinking or journaling.Let me have a few minutes. Let’s vibe together.We are on the verge of something—call it world war three, call it chaos, call it the moment before everything shifts.In the middle of it all—TSA lines wrap around terminals, travel anxiety hums the background, people are forced to work with no pay. I could go on about how every headline is filled with hostilities. They escalate hourly.I’ve made the practical decision to vibe, to be above the moment rather than in it.Vanessa, what does that mean?I’m stocking up on the essentials:Water.Toiletries.And goodwill.Since the world feels unstable, the least I can do is stabilize my corner of it.But how do you reset when gas prices feel like they’re climbing without end? When groceries—something as basic as beef—begins being priced like silver?When the weather can’t decide what season it belongs to, and you’re running both the heat and the air conditioning in the same week? You give up. Nothing, absolutely nothing is under our control.I’m not telling you anything new. But I am sharing with you my survival rules 101:First, protect your peace. The crazy train’s not stopping. There’s no switch we can flip to slow things down. It has to run it’s course and teach hard, painful lessons.And it’s so difficult when the people we love—especially those in uniform—will be called into harm’s way.So what do we do?This weekend, I found part of the answer.I joined the Tanya Time Book Club and met a room filled with readers and vibed with food, fashion, friendships and books.These readers were engaged, joyful, present.Beautiful women. Supportive, diligent men.These were people who chose, intentionally, to gather.This was nourishment, to be with bookish people.I saw laughter, felt the collective breath release and reveled in this moment: we are safe. We are together.The vibe struck me:We need this. All of us.I’m tired of watching chaos. Tired of those who thrive on fear winning. I’m deeply disappointed in those who profit from division.But as I said, there’s no stopping the crazy train. Our leadership has lied and failed us.So yes—we have to buckle up.Crazy has the keys and we’re in the back of station wagon.Back to those practical steps:Stay hydrated.Stock up—little by little on essentials:Water. Staples. Medicines. These things disappear first when systems get strained.And then—just as importantly—feed your mind.Escape, escape into a book.Because stories are more than entertainment.They are a refuge. They are resistance. They are hope.If you crave manageable chaos with a side of humor—let me offer you A Deal at Dawn, releasing June 30, 2026.This is Katherine Wilcox, Lady Hampton’s story.This stubborn woman has spent her life believing that secrecy equals safety.It’s not. It’s betrayal.This story is packed with a secret baby, hurt-comfort, and herbs.And my dear girl is ready to walk over hot coals to make things right.And opposite her—Jahleel Charles, the Duke of Torrance.The master chess player is a man shaped by legacy—a Black Russian princess for a mother, an English duke for a father—and now faces a crisis that could take everything from him.His health.His independence.His future. His one chance to be a father.So the question becomes:What does forgiveness look like when trust has been shattered?What does redemption cost?And what happens when the child—once hidden—has grown old enough to understand that she’s been lied to all her life?Will Katherine make amends?Or will she give up? Or will time run out?Yes, we need more escape. I still do suggest to picking up Fire, Sword, and Sea. These pirates fight back. We can learn something.So let me leave you with this.Please take time to care for yourself.If you need to disconnect from the noise—do it.If the news feels like too much—step away.Find voices you trust. Platforms that inform without overwhelming.Guard your home front.Prepare wisely.And don’t underestimate the power of small joys.Watch something that makes you laugh.Call someone who reminds you who you are.Go hang with a book club.And above everything, read.Let a story carry you somewhere safe and full of laughs even if it’s just for a while.And be prayerful.Pray for leadership with backbone.Pray for those called into service.Pray for wisdom and mercy and endurance.Pray for creators.Creators keep creating.We need you.We need the stories written.Art painted.Words spoken, rhymed, sung, or acted.In times like these, art is not a luxury.It’s vibe to survival.This week’s book list includes:Legendborn by Tracy DeonnSecret societies, grief,...
    Show More Show Less
    11 mins
  • Not What They Voted For

    Not What They Voted For
    Mar 17 2026
    My husband, a retired military man, doesn’t talk much about his service.But when he does, he’s careful—measured—about the details and the conflicts he may have witnessed.I did get him to share a little about evacuating citizens during Hurricane Katrina.But then (Saturday) I got a call while I was on the road in Baltimore.A woman who had been his office mate…a navigator who became a pilot…someone he once flew with on a check ride to…She had a beautiful laugh—the kind that filled a room.Always encouraging. Always steady.She died this weekend.She—and her crew—became casualties of a U.S. war.I just came back from a quick dash to Baltimore.I spent time in a beautiful bookstore, wandered through a wonderful library system, and got to greet Maryland readers—people who love stories the way I do.I brought work with me.My next novel is brewing.But I didn’t touch it.Instead, I let myself be wrecked by Kin by Tayari Jones.Because I needed escape.Not distraction—escape. The kind that reminds you why stories matter when the real world feels like it’s unraveling.Right now, I’m living in a dichotomy.On one side, there’s the book world—my world.Deadlines. Promotion. Strategy. The constant push to get our stories into as many hands as possible.On the other side… there’s everything else.Every time I leave my house, gas costs more. It has jumped from $2.65 to nearly $3.90.Every headline feels heavier than the last.And now, we’re in a war I didn’t want—a war I didn’t vote for.Let me be clear—I support the troops. Always.But that does not mean I support everything that puts them in harm’s way.Because this isn’t abstract to me.My husband—retired military—flew with a young pilot.She sat at the desk next to his.She is now a casualty of this war.This isn’t policy.This is personal.When things get heavy, I put my feelings in a box. I believe in compartmentalization.Put your grief in one box.Your anger in another.Your ambition somewhere else.It’s how I’ve survived rooms where I knew I wasn’t valued.Rooms where people smiled politely while quietly wishing I’d disappear.And yes—sometimes you smile to keep from crying.Sometimes you grin and bear it because the future matters more than the discomfort of the present.I thought I was good at that.But this?This is harder.When things were impossible for Jacquotte Delahaye and Sarah Sayon in Fire, Sword, and Sea, they turned to fire. The wish to burn it all down and clear away the rubbish, that they were presented. That feeling must be universal. I am very tempted to point out to those who enabled this hellscape why they need fire. It might feel good to curse out the people who deserve it.You’ve watched the news. I’m sure some very choice words have come to mind.But that’s not me.I have faith, a moral compass, a soul that won’t be damned because of enablers.Which means I enter rooms—and exit them—with grace, poise, and dignity.I will not let anyone steal that from me.Racism will not stumble me.Misogyny will not humble me.And those who don’t value stories—especially stories about history, power, and women—will never shut me up.So I will not let them win by becoming something I’m not.Nonetheless, let’s not pretend. Let’s open the compartment where the rage is.The world feels like it’s on fire. Self-inflicted fire.There’s a part of me that wants to point fingers.To call out everyone who said, “both sides are the same.”Everyone who reduced complex decisions to a single issue.Everyone who believed nothing truly bad could happen.Because now we are here.We are off the guardrails.And maybe—just maybe—these are the consequences people needed to feel, and unfortunately, they must bear witness to the blood that has been spilled.“Vanessa, you are being hyperbolic. No one wanted this.”Are we sure?Many of us have been talking about book bans and hiding history. Yet must they see an executive order force the National Park Service to dismantle the panels depicting enslavement at the President’s House on Independence Mall?“Oh, that’s a one-off, and now the panels are back.” So a cleanup on aisle nine makes everything better?And let’s look at the rest of the cleanup items.People say they voted for lower gas prices.But prices in Atlanta climbed from $2.65 to $3.85.Some say they voted for no new wars.But now we have Operation Midnight Hammer in June 2025—striking nuclear facilities in Iran.And Operation Epic Fury, launched February 28, 2026—starting a war.And the cost?A strike hit Shajareh Tayyebeh, a girls’ elementary school, killing at least 175 people—the majority schoolgirls between the ages of 7 and 12.Thirteen U.S. service members are dead.At least 200 are wounded—many with traumatic brain injuries, burns, and shrapnel wounds.A nation’s leader—Ayatollah Ali Khamenei—was killed in a precision strike,along with generals, officials, and their families—hardening resolve ...
    Show More Show Less
    14 mins
  • The Vicarious Vicious Keyboard

    The Vicarious Vicious Keyboard
    Mar 10 2026
    What if I told you the most dangerous weapon most of us carry… isn’t a gun or a knife?It’s a keyboard.Millions of people every day wake up, pick up their phones, and step into a strange theater of human behavior—where cruelty spreads faster than truth, outrage travels farther than kindness, and strangers feel emboldened to destroy someone they’ve never met.And the worst part?For some people… it feels good.That rush. That attention. That viral moment.Today I want to talk about the dark side of something we all do.The Vicarious Vicious KeyboardHuman nature is something I study.It’s one of the tools I use to make my characters feel real—solid… and undeniably human.People aren’t perfect. So my characters aren’t either.Sometimes they want to do something selfish. Something indulgent. Something that brings them no real benefit at all.And that impulse? That foolishness?It speaks to the heart of all our pent-up reckless desires.After all, don’t we love reading about things we’d never do ourselves? Not in the real world.Things we lack the guts—the raw courage—to do?I remember the first time I learned the word vicarious. It was on one of those weekly vocabulary lists in school. You remember when we had homework, and Mom would drill you on the list, while she cooked.Vicarious—adjectiveAccording to the Britannica Dictionary, vicarious means experienced or felt by watching, hearing about, or reading about someone else rather than by doing something yourself.Light bulbs flashed. Thunder rolled.I understood this. My life changed a little. Suddenly I had a word for something I’d always felt but couldn’t name: and the dangerous desires of the human heart had a vehicle.That thrill of experiencing something through someone else.I can be an astronaut. I could be a Duke. I could be a NASA mathematician. I could be a hockey player. I could be a cowgirl riding backwards on a horse. Anything, even a serial killer.But like most things… we in the digital age take things too far.We don’t know when to stop.And the internet—well, the internet makes it easier for us to keep going.Yes, social media and endless scrolling. I’m look at you.Have you ever put up a post and suddenly—miraculously—it get clicks? I’m talking serious clicks.Once I made an IG post about the imagery in the Sinners movie poster; it reminded me of Ernie Barnes and his iconic painting The Sugar Shack—the same painting immortalized on Good Times and on Marvin Gaye’s I Want You album cover.“That swirl of limbs.That sense of joy, rhythm, resistance.The juke joint as sacred space.”Well, that post—that simple observation—went viral in April of 2025.Almost a million views.Over ninety-five thousand likes.And I’ll be honest… it felt good.It had me checking the app again and again like an addict. Refreshing. Watching the numbers climb. For a few moments I even wondered—what could I do to capture that magic again?I liked that rush. If I could do it again, I would. But that’s the magic of viral.A scroll through threads or a dash through Twitter will show you the posts with the most likes are often vile or viscous.Some of the most toxic posts go viral. The same feeling I had checking art comments must be the same for those who post hate or speech about harm.Are people willing to chase the clicks even if it means posting cruelty?Are these fiends, checking their toxic feeds for engagement? Does negative attention spur them to post something even crazier?Is there a craving for attention, so strong that negativity will do.Have we grown so safe behind a a keyboard that we lean in at a greater propensity to bully?Or is it something darker—something more insidious? Does the hurt inside bubble up until it spills out online?Do endorphins kick in when the crowd joins the pile-on.Let’s be honest—every nasty thread post or tweet can’t be a bot.I keep asking myself: what’s in it for someone to be that hurtful? That’s the part of the vicarious journey I don’t get.But I do see the consequences:Actors doing their jobs—playing fictional characters—suddenly have to issue statements condemning racist or homophobic harassment from so-called “fans.”Any given day on Twitter—and honestly, I don’t recommend it—you’ll see people wishing harm on others simply because they didn’t like a character… or because someone attended an award show.This newfound comfort with cruelty makes me wonder if our lives have become so hollow that we now live evil vicarious lives, victimizing others with a keyboard?When I was writing Jacquotte Delahaye (Fire Sword and Sea), I had to wrestle with her darkness.She’d endured terrible things, the cruel deaths of people she loved. Betrayal. Loss.And I had to walk a fine line. I don’t do trauma porn. I believe we write of violence without hurting or triggering readers, if at all possible.For Jacquotte, I wrestled with her resolve to survive and achieve her dreams with her...
    Show More Show Less
    15 mins
  • Shut Up and Write

    Shut Up and Write
    Mar 3 2026
    Every time the world feels unstable, and an artist dares answer an interview question, we get the same memo: stay in your lane. Entertain. Distract. Don’t dare analyze what’s happening. Don’t name it. Don’t challenge it. Shut up.I’m sorry to inform you—I’m not your minstrel on demand. If you’re big mad about that, go sit in the corner and think about why.Art has always been political. Perhaps your outrage is the real performance. So maybe, you need to quiet and listen.Shut Up and WriteIn February 2018, Fox News host Laura Ingraham responded to comments made by NBA superstar LeBron James with a phrase that ricocheted across the culture: “Shut up and dribble.”She was reacting to an interview James gave alongside Kevin Durant, in which he spoke not only about basketball but about race, leadership, and the lived reality of being a Black man in America. Ingraham dismissed his words as “barely intelligible” and suggested that someone “paid $100 million a year to bounce a ball” should keep his political opinions to himself.But here’s the thing: the minute you ask a Black person about their experience in America, you are no longer asking about “just sports.” You are asking about history. You are asking about citizenship. You are asking about survival. And you are asking for our truth.When you tell him or her or them to shut up and dribble, what you are really saying is:Perform. Entertain. Produce. But do not speak.That phrasing doesn’t emerge in a vacuum. It echoes a long American tradition—of Black bodies celebrated for talent but silenced in intellect; commodified for labor but dismissed in leadership; applauded for artistry but censored in analysis. From minstrel stages to modern arenas, the script has too often been the same: dazzle us, but do not disrupt us.And yet, LeBron did not shut up.He went about his business—on and off the court. He used the moment to amplify conversations about injustice, education, and opportunity. He built schools. He funded scholarships. He made sure that his platform included not just athletic excellence but civic voice. When he was told to shrink, he expanded.I guess that is what unsettles people. Not that LeBron dribbles—but that he keeps speaking.So on Threads, Twitter, pretty much all your parasitical streets, I hear authors being told a version of that command:“Just shut up and write.”Don’t talk politics.Don’t analyze power.Don’t interrogate policy.Stick to romance.Stick to fiction.Tell us about dukes and wagers and stolen glances, but do not dare connect the past to the present. In my June release, A Deal at Dawn, some readers are dying to know if the Duke of Torrance survives a chronic illness Black communities still suffer from today, but many more want to hear about the hurt-comfort caregiving in his bathtub or his foot fetish.In Fire Sword and Sea, some want to hear about the hijinks of women cross-dressing as men but forget about the systems of government that oppress them and force them into piracy as their way to survive.And since I’ve been writing to you weekly, I’ve gotten those nasty little emails telling me that I should stick to writing historical fiction and leave politics alone.To those folks, what the heck do you think I have been writing all along?When I describe women rising up in hostile systems, about enslavement and trafficking, about corrupt leaders, white supremacy, about diseases neglected because they ravage Brown bodies—I am writing politics. I’m writing about policy. I am writing about power. Corsets and cravats and crowns never dilute the truth.You cannot celebrate the art and forbid analysis.You cannot applaud the talent and mute the testimony.You cannot consume the culture and silence the creator.The expectation that artists remain apolitical is itself political.It says:We want your labor, LeBron, not your leadership, JasmineYour imagination, Micheal B, not your insight—DelroyYou are for entertainment, forget the lived experiences that got you here.But identity is not something I can toggle off between chapters. When you ask me about my work, you are asking about my worldview. When you ask about my characters, you are asking about justice and injustice as much as you reading for love.And love is power, and it is always political.We are living in times that feel combustible. Many are waking up to realities they once refused to see.They don’t know who to trust. They want words of comfort. But where are you going to get that? You told me to shut up and write.Writers, creators—moments like this, it’s easier to retreat—to binge-watch comfort shows, to lose ourselves in manuscripts, to hide in deadlines and drafts. I, too, would love to stay in my rom-com era. I would love to focus solely on shenanigans and happily-ever-afters. But even I can only binge-watch MythBusters, hockey, and Bridgerton for so long.So no, I cannot just shut up and write.I must write. Writing is my blood ...
    Show More Show Less
    12 mins
  • Fifteen Seconds and a Slur

    Fifteen Seconds and a Slur
    Feb 24 2026
    For any writer or creator, the edit is your best tool or best weapon. Every paragraph, article, headline, every broadcast, even every post is a choice—what stays in, what gets cut, who gets protected, and who gets exposed are choices. If you have the power to edit, you have the power to do better. Let’s talk about the superpower that comes with great responsibility.Fifteen Seconds and a SlurThe edit is intentional.The greatest tool any author carries is not talent, not inspiration, not even discipline. It is the edit. The edit is where intention meets responsibility. It is where raw creation becomes art.No one—no one—sits down and instantly produces a masterpiece. Manuscripts are not born polished. They are wrestled into being. They are drafted in confusion, in bursts of brilliance, in gaps of missing facts and half-remembered details. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve left myself placeholders—XXX—so I can go back and hunt down what I actually meant: the correct monetary value of a tavern meal in pirate haven Port Royal, the historical cut of a waistcoat or falls of breaches, the name of a street or rue in Hispaniola. It’s never right on the first go.Returning to it on the next pass, the next edit—that’s where the magic happens. The edit is the intentional power to clarify what you meant. The power to fix what you missed. The power to elevate what almost worked into what truly does.I’ve worked with brilliant editors and those who gave me brilliant headaches. I even hire my own. A good editor helps me see what I cannot see. They bring perspective, distance, and rigor. But even then, I choose. I decide what advice to accept, what to reconsider, and what to reshape. Editing is collaboration—but it is also stewardship. Before any manuscript moves to the next level—before submission or publication—it carries the weight of my choices. Another set of eyes will add more to the manuscript. Every perspective reveals something new. That’s how diligent writers reach the best version of a book earthly possible.Writers are not the only ones who wield this magic tool.Video editing is editing. What you choose to upload to your social feeds—what you trim, what you blur, what you cut out—matters. I am more conscious of accidentally revealing mailing addresses in the background of one of my post office runs. Everyone should hide vulnerable information that should not be public, and watch for angles that misrepresent.The edit shapes our experience. On TikTok, Threads, Bluesky, Instagram—even if you wander back to Twitter—you should be curating what we see. That curation, that social edit is power.Journalists edit, too. They decide:* Whose names appear?* Which details matter?* Which context is included?* And which bits of info are left out?That is why it unsettles me when journalists act as if they are powerless—when they behave as though they must show everything, or they both-sides-things normalizing crazy, and seem to be okay with pieces that distort or wound.When civil rights leader and Rainbow Coalition founder Jesse Jackson died peacefully at 84 on February 17, 2026, after long battles with Parkinson’s disease, the headline was clear: a giant of the civil rights movement had passed, noting Jackson was:* A key figure in the struggle after Martin Luther King Jr.* A two-time presidential candidate.* A successful hostage negotiator (over 100 returned to the US).* A man whose life reshaped American political possibility.Yet in a brief radio mention—a mere fifteen-second clip to commemorate his death—the spot highlighted not only Jackson’s death but his son’s past troubles. Fifteen seconds. In a moment meant for legacy, painful and tangential details were inserted. That is an edit. That is a choice.Editing is not neutral.The same lesson unfolded at the BAFTA Film Awards. During a broadcast on BBC, Tourette syndrome campaigner John Davidson shouted a racial slur while actors Delroy Lindo and Michael B. Jordan stood on stage presenting an award. Both men—accomplished, respected, peers among peers—were subjected to one of the most dehumanizing words in the English language, the N-word. The live moment was shocking enough. But the editing was worse.The slur remained in the BBC broadcast and was replayed worldwide three hours later. The corporation later apologized, saying producers in the truck had not heard it. Meanwhile, other moments—such as calls of “Free Palestine”—were edited out of the rebroadcast. Actor Alan Cumming, hosting the ceremony, initially offered an explanation centered on Tourette syndrome and apologized “if you are offended.” Later reactions grew sharper. Producer Hannah Beachler criticized what she described as a throwaway apology.Editing is a choice.The decision to leave a racial epithet while removing a political statement is not accidental neutrality. It reveals priority. It reveals what is deemed urgent to correct and what is allowed...
    Show More Show Less
    14 mins
  • P&P – Persecution and Paranoid

    P&P – Persecution and Paranoid
    Feb 17 2026
    Have you ever felt like the walls were closing in — like doors were shutting and you couldn’t figure out why?Today’s essay is about that season. The P & P season.Persecution… and the paranoia that follows.If you’ve ever wondered whether you deserved the storm you were in, this one is for you.Persecution is an odd thing.When everything starts going wrong, I feel myself shrink. I feel extremely small. Then every slight becomes magnified. A look. A tone. An unanswered email. And suddenly we’re dangerously close to the other P word — paranoia.Your once-hopeful persona begins to fade. You start waiting for the next blow.As a type A person, an engineer at heart, I look for cause and effect. I try to pinpoint the moment I FAed and FOed. While I search, I double down on hope, prayer, and producing. I can be one productive fool when I feel the walls closing in.Still, I will lie awake trying to figure out what I did to deserve this.And for the whole of last year, I couldn’t find the culprit. Did I cross a line? I would like to know. Did I cut somebody? Did I punch somebody really, really hard? Did I steal your chair or your parking space?No.I didn’t take anybody’s anything. Nope. I have my own.In our twisted parasocial world, I will wonder if I liked the wrong posts, which now give you beef.You can see how the paranoia can ramp. Deep down, I think many of us want to feel like we deserve this punishment. If I earned it, at least there’s logic. At least there’s control.But the painful lesson I’ve had to grapple with is this:Other than being overly eager and overly enthusiastic, I didn’t do anything wrong. Persecution is not necessarily earned.Somewhere in the strange karma of the cosmic universe, you were chosen. And we all want to be chosen, right? But just not like this.Congratulations, you were chosen to have doors slammed in your face. Sometimes your hand was still on the seal — so you get that extra sting. You were chosen to lose. You were chosen to have your integrity questioned. You were chosen to decide whether you were going to grow up, go high… or sink low. If you’ve contemplated being the villain and getting revenge, put it in the comments.Now I’ve said before — and if you’ve read Fire Sword and Sea, you know — I believe in something called holy anger. There is a righteous anger. As a woman, I was urged to hold it in. To not sin in my anger. Yet, you can be angry and still be whole.Nonetheless, that is the struggle. How do we keep ourselves together as we wait for relief?I won’t pretend I’ve mastered survival. I haven’t. But I can say I didn’t curse anybody out — at least not where it could be recorded. I kept my cool for the most part. And when it came time to fight the battle, I didn’t yell. I let other people stand in the gap. I brought my hurt to those who could counsel me. I found fellowship. I found sisterhood. I saw rapiers lifted to defeat an armada.I found in real time who was on your team, my crew, and who wasn’t.My blessed crew found the time to encourage me, and gave me grace to rise above every point of contention. The P&P season, it’s very shocking. It’s hurtful.When you find you’re in the P&P-season, hold yourself together even when you find traitors in your midst.Persecution shows you who’s pulling for you. You find out who will show up, and the ones who have your back, even when it costs them something.It’s priceless the perspective I now have. And let me say this clearly: persecution is momentary. It may feel fresh, but there is an expiration date.Despite the pain, I am grateful for the experience.Why?Because it has made me more appreciative of those who advocate for me. It has made me more discerning about praise and opportunity. It has made me double down on what connects me most to you.This podcast--I do this podcast every week because it allows me to express what I’m going through — not just as an author, but as a human being. And in putting a voice to thoughts and sharing, I feel closer to you. My books may move you, yes. But when I talk about the shared experiences we are all living through — just in different forms — something deeper happens.We bond. We may commiserate. And maybe I’ve given voice to shared pain, shared struggle.When I started writing weekly essays, I was angry at the world. Frankly, I was pissed off. Somewhere along the way, this became therapeutic. I often write about the past. This podcast became a bridge to our shared present. It’s our bridge. And this bridge energizes every facet of my heart and mind.Every week, I look forward to this space, to sharing a revelation. A story. Something that made me angry. Something that brought me joy. Something that might shift your perspective.Listen to me. I know some of you are hurting. Some of you are still in the storm. I wish you comfort and safety. When you get close to the other side of through, I want you to see the sunlight breaking ...
    Show More Show Less
    16 mins