Kennedy Ryan Wants Publishing to ‘Let Her Cook’

In an early chapter from Can’t Get Enough, the latest New York Times bestselling romance novel from author Kennedy Ryan, the ambitious businesswoman Hendrix Barry tells an audience of potential investors that “there’s no such thing as Black Girl Magic.”

Cue the shock. She continues, “I know as soon as I said that, many of you inwardly responded the way my grandfather did when I was growing up in the country: The hell you say. I know that for many of you, shoot, for me, there was a time when questioning Black Girl Magic would feel like sacrilege.” But, she finishes, “We are not magic. We are resilient. It’s not a wand. It’s work.”

Ryan is careful to outline the many differences between herself and her heroine. But, in this instance, Hendrix seems to speak directly from the author’s own experience. “I just said to my husband the other day, ‘There’s got to be an easier way to make a living,’” Ryan jokes from her office in North Carolina, from which she joins a Zoom call with me mere days before the release of Can’t Get Enough.

Ryan’s success, like Hendrix’s, has been a long time coming. Starting out in the ’90s as a journalism graduate from the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill—go Heels—she spent years writing and ghostwriting for nonprofits, churches, and, really, “anywhere I could,” she says. When she later gave birth to a son who was eventually diagnosed with autism, she adjusted most of her work to focus on advocacy. She wrote for Chicken Soup for the Soul and parent-focused magazines; she launched an Atlanta-based nonprofit to serve individuals with autism and their families. But the constant intensity of this work, in addition to the personal demands of parenting her son, found her bereft of a creative outlet. Throughout much of her youth, she’d found solace in romance novels. Why not try writing one of her own?

Thus Ryan began a draft of the book that would one day become Before I Let Go, the first installment in the Skyland trilogy, now finalized with Can’t Get Enough. In 2013, she secured a book deal with Hachette Book Group, and though she (temporarily) put Before I Let Go aside, she rolled out what would become known as the Bennett series, kickstarting her author career. From then on, Ryan became a publishing force to be reckoned with. Over the ensuing years, she built a backlist—and, she’s quick to add, a brand—as a hybrid author, straddling the worlds of traditional publishing and self-publishing in the romance genre.

In 2019, she became the first Black author, ever, to win the RITA Award in the Best Contemporary Romance: Long category, bestowed by the Romance Writers of America, an organization long mired in controversy thanks to its mishandling of diversity, equity, and inclusion. (The RWA has since filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy, though it is still active.) Ryan entered one of her self-published titles, Long Shot, into RITA consideration on something of a dare. “I remember being on Twitter at the time, and there was this hashtag #RITASoWhite, the same way they had, like, #OscarsSoWhite,” Ryan says. “And so many people were saying, ‘Well, the reason there’s never a Black author winning is because they just never enter.’ And I was like, ‘No…I think it’s systemic.’” The RITAs had been handing out awards for nearly 40 years before a Black author won. “I think there’s something else to it,” Ryan deadpans.

Even after she made history as a RITA winner herself, Ryan realized she wasn’t satisfied with proving her point in only one gatekept space. “I started looking around and not really seeing Black romance authors very much on the New York Times list,” she says. “We weren’t on shelves. There wasn’t much visibility for our books, really, at all. I started thinking about the brand I had built, which was a brand that had something to say. Not that nobody else did, but I had a very clear sense of who I wanted to center and celebrate.” She didn’t want to write to fulfill trends or tropes, or to surpass a sales goal. She didn’t want to give readers a shiny alternative universe in which to reside, even if, as a requirement of the romance genre, her books had to have happy endings. She wanted to push the “discourse” further.

In the acknowledgments section of Can’t Get Enough, Ryan writes, “No one wonders about weightier issues being broached in literary fiction or crime novels or any other genre. Why must romance remain agnostic on the most urgent issues of the day?” In our interview, I asked Ryan to elaborate on this idea further. How does she think about romance writing, if it’s not simply about that all-important Happily Ever After?

“I am not approaching romance from a place of escape,” she tells me. “I’m approaching romance from a place of activism. I want to talk about the destigmatization of mental health in marginalized communities. I want to talk about domestic abuse, and I want to talk about it in the context of a patriarchal culture that values paternal right over women’s and children’s safety. In a romance novel? Yes, in a romance novel.” She wants to deliver the big-picture issues in a package her readers will appreciate.

Take Hendrix in Can’t Get Enough. This is a protagonist, Ryan argues, with a “sense of agency, a woman who believes that her body is her own, a woman who has goals and dreams.” She begins the novel as a single 40-something businesswoman, childless by choice, with a substantial income and a group of loyal, adoring friends. When she meets the tech mogul Maverick Bell, she’s attracted to him not on account of his money, but because of his respect for her. He sees her. He values her. He shares her commitment to investing—fiscally and emotionally—in Black communities. He empathizes with Hendrix’s grief as she struggles with her mother’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis. And yet Hendrix still hesitates to begin a relationship. She doesn’t want to abandon her ambitions to buoy a man’s own success; she’s seen it happen too many times before. Maverick, ultimately, must convince her he’s worthy of her affections—and that he doesn’t want her to contort the life she’s built.

“When I’m writing all of that, it's not to escape from real life,” Ryan says. “It’s to say, ‘This is not too much to ask for in real life.’”

The RITA win had presented Ryan with an opportunity: She could broaden her reach (and her message) amongst readers, but do so on her terms. She revisited her draft of Before I Let Go and reestablished her relationship with Hachette, outlining from the jump what she wanted for her next round of traditionally published books: Black women on the cover. “Natural hair. Pigmentation,” Ryan lists. Her Hachette imprint, Forever, “listened, which doesn’t always happen.” Before I Let Go became a fan favorite after it was published in 2022, and Ryan secured a deal with Peacock to adapt the book—and, by extension, what would become the Skyland series, including the New York Times bestselling follow-ups This Could Be Us and Can’t Get Enough—for television.

Ryan continues, “I think it makes a real difference when we as Black artists get to shape things around who we know is our most predictable, reliable reader, which is a Black woman. A lot of times people are like, ‘Gosh, why don’t Black books sell?’ And I’m like, ‘No, you don’t know how to sell Black books.’ And if you would listen to the people who create them, if you would give them aid and creative agency and voice, your bottom line would improve.”

When Hachette gave her that agency and that support, Ryan says, she allowed herself to dream big. “I was like, ‘What if this series does what I hope that it could do? I could see Black women on shelves. I could see Black women on billboards. I could see Black women, potentially, one day, on television, thanks to a book I wrote.’” Ryan laughs, delighted. “And it’s so funny, because all of those things have happened or are happening.”

Now, Can’t Get Enough is a hit; the Skyland saga is in active development at Peacock (“We’re still working, and as soon as they say I can announce things, I will,” Ryan teases); and Ryan is at work on the next book in her Hollywood Renaissance series, titled Score. Anyone who has spoken with her for more than a few minutes knows she’s the kind of person who practically vibrates with joy—there’s a reason she’s been dubbed “Queen of Hugs” amongst fans—but that enthusiasm hasn’t made her frustrations with the publishing industry any less acute. She doesn’t want to be one of only a handful of Black romance authors who get this level of visibility, especially given that her own visibility pales in comparison to that of many white authors.

She continues, “I am frustrated by the fact that we can’t figure out the systems that make it harder for Black women to break through. And it’s funny because I hear some readers say, ‘Kennedy Ryan is not the only Black romance author! There’s a whole bunch of others!’ And I get it. Because it’s always been this way, not only in publishing but in entertainment in general, only allowing so many of us [Black women] through at a time.”

Ryan doesn’t want to be an outlier. She wants her success to represent one drop in a sea change. “We need more Black editors,” she says. “We need more Black publishers. We need more Black agents. And not just Black—brown, queer, marginalized. We need them in acquisition and editorial roles. When we don’t have that, we have people who may not actually know our community making decisions about our art.” She pantomimes a conversation with a publisher. “You have all these resources, and I respect that. We have this experience and talent and voice. When those two things align, and you give us space?”

She grins. “Like the kids say…‘Let her cook.’”