Journal

November 27, 2025

Happy Thanksgiving, y’all.

I’m thankful for good food, good vibes, and the clarity that comes when life says, “Baby, this ain’t it.”

And before we get into the plates and the posts, I’m holding space for the Indigenous people whose land we’re on, and honoring the ancestors—ours and theirs—who carried more than we’ll ever fully name. Gratitude isn’t complete without truth.

Now… since we’re naming blessings—

✨ I’m dropping a whole book next month. ✨

Yep. Ya girl is officially an author.

Bittersweet is coming this December—

a story about healing, legacy, messy truth, and a Black woman choosing herself even when it’s not cute, not easy, and definitely not convenient.

If you’ve ever rebuilt your life after somebody played in your face…

this one’s for you.

Stay tuned.

Zari Brooks is on her way, and she did NOT come to play.

Follow me on Instagram at @valenciamichellewrites

#BittersweetNovel #BrooksLegacySeries #ValenciaMichelleWrites

December 1, 2025

Why Did I Start with Zari

I didn’t choose Zari because she was the youngest or because heartbreak makes an easy hook. I chose her because, in the beginning, she was the only story on the table. 

The Brooks family was always there, but they were background. Names. History. Texture. They weren’t meant to lead anything. I thought I was writing one woman’s journey and leaving it at that.

But the deeper I went into Zari’s life, the more the family pushed forward. Her choices didn’t exist in a vacuum. Her silence had roots. Her strength had a cost. And all of that traced back to the people who raised her and the legacy she carried without question.

Zari didn’t start a series.

She revealed one.

Once I saw the layers behind her, the other women started taking shape, and eventually they stepped into the light on their own terms.

Zari was simply the first one who spoke loud enough to be heard.

December 4, 2025

The House That Anchors Every Story

The Brooks House isn’t just a setting, it’s a witness.

Every family has that one place that holds the echoes. The arguments, the celebrations, the secrets, the prayers whispered into wood and tile. This house carries all of it.

For the Brooks women, the house is both safety and responsibility. It’s memory in physical form: the porch lights, the doors that stick when it rains, the table everyone gathers around even when they’re not speaking.

The house doesn’t judge them.

It just waits for them to tell the truth.

And that’s why it shows up in every book.

December 7, 2025

Lucinda: The Quiet Witness

Lucinda isn’t loud, but she sees everything. She is the kind of Black woman people overlook because they confuse gentleness with invisibility.

But Lucinda is the hinge in the whole series.

She knows the Brooks history better than the Brooks women do. She has watched them break, rebuild, and repeat patterns they didn’t realize were inherited.

She’s the bridge, past to present, mother to daughter, silence to truth.

And later in the series, she becomes something more:

the one who hands the light forward.

December 9, 2025

On Black Womanhood and the Right to Rest

Rest shouldn’t feel radical, but for Black women it often does. We’re taught to hold the line, hold the family, hold the job, hold the community, and do it without shaking.

The Brooks Legacy Series pushes against that.

Each woman reaches a point where performance stops working. Their bodies know before their mouths say it out loud: I can’t keep carrying myself like this.

These stories aren’t about falling apart.

They’re about putting the weight down long enough to see yourself clearly.

Rest is not a reward. It’s a right.

And every book touches that truth in a different way.

December 10, 2025

Bittersweet is Ready

Finishing this manuscript felt less like typing the last line and more like finally exhaling. 

Bittersweet grew with me. It challenged me. It made me slow down and pay attention to the parts of myself I usually outrun. 

This story holds the kind of honesty I needed years ago but didn’t yet have the language for. 

Seeing it complete is its own kind of relief. I’m proud of what it became.