Dear Kennedy Ryan,

You are coming to Birmingham — my hometown — for the first time ever this weekend, and I won’t be there. You’ll be in town on Saturday, September 13, for the Behind the Ink book festival hosted by Me Time Book Club. But I’ll be in Orange Beach, Alabama, for the Alabama Writers Cooperative Conference. The irony is not lost on me that I’m missing a chance to meet one of my favorite writers because I’m attending a writing conference.

I wrote an article about the event that’s bringing you to the Magic City and the woman who worked hard to make all this happen — K. Reshay Williams. But I also wanted to write this blog post, which is really an open letter, to say all I would try to say if I had a chance to meet you this weekend.

Even though I don’t write fiction, you are one of the most influential writers in my life right now. You’ve said in interviews and social media posts that writing the Skyland Series changed your life. Well, reading the Skyland Series changed my life.

Representation matters, and I see pieces of myself in all three of the main characters. Yasmen makes me feel less alone in my struggles with depression and anxiety. Soledad has shown me the importance of self-partnering even when you’re in a relationship. Yes, I’m happily married, but I also need to be the love of my own life. Soledad’s story reminds us that we need to love ourselves first so that we can love others fully. And as a woman who is proudly childfree by choice, the character of Hendrix encourages me to live my best rich auntie life.

I see myself in your story, too. Our backgrounds are similar. Not only are we both Southern girls, but we both fell in love with writing first through poetry. We both studied journalism in college and wrote for our local papers when we were teens.

Reading your work — which breaks away from the romance novel formula and tackles tough topics ranging from neurodiversity to race relations — reminds me that in the world of writing, I can make my own rules. And as I rewrite my rules, I’m taking cues from you. In an interview with Les Alfred of the She’s So Lucky podcast, you said that when you write, you consider three things: artistic urgency, intellectual curiosity, and creative conviction.

You write work that speaks to important issues of the time. You do the research needed to be sure your work is well-informed and that your characters are authentic. You write work you can feel good about putting out into the world. I believe these same concepts can apply to articles, essays, and even blog posts if I am an intentional writer.

All that said, when I read your work, I’m also giving myself permission to RELAX! I lose myself in your stories and let go of the stress of work and caring for aging parents and my own health concerns as a cancer survivor. Whether I’m reading a paperback on the beach or listening to an audiobook in the car or in the bathtub, my reading time is my me time.

Through your stories, you proudly proclaim that Black and Brown women deserve to feel sexy, satisfied and safe. This is why writing Black romance is an act of resistance. Through reading your work, I am reminded that rest is a right, not a reward, and that self-care is not selfish but is as necessary as water and air.

OK, who am I kidding? If I were in Birmingham this weekend, you wouldn’t have time to listen to me say ALL OF THIS. I’d probably only get to talk to you for 30 seconds. And so in those 30 seconds, here’s what I’d say: Thank you for being a romance writer who helps Black women fall in love with themselves.