When Did Rachel Deloache Williams Publish Her Memoir?

I got pulled into Rachel DeLoache Williams' book like it was a guilty-pleasure true-crime binge. In 'My Friend Anna' she lays out, in plain and often painful detail, how Anna Sorokin presented herself as a wealthy German heiress, then systematically lied, manipulated, and scammed people around New York's social scene. Rachel describes the Morocco trip episode where she fronted tens of thousands of dollars—widely reported as about $62,000—after Anna refused to pay hotel and travel bills she had promised to cover. Beyond the money, Rachel reveals the emotional fallout: how betrayal felt when someone you trusted built an entire persona on fake bank statements, forged emails, and theatrical charm. She talks about the trial, her decision to testify, and the weirdness of watching the story explode in the media. The memoir isn't just crime-details; it's also about reclaiming her side of the story, the awkwardness of celebrity by association, and how she learned to set boundaries afterward.

There's a weird, almost cinematic quality to how Rachel DeLoache Williams' career pivot went down, and I kept thinking about it the first time I read 'My Friend Anna' on a rainy commute. I was in my mid-twenties, nose in a book, and it struck me how one dramatic personal experience can push someone out of a whole professional world. From what she's shared publicly and in interviews, the main catalyst was being defrauded by Anna Delvey (Anna Sorokin) — Rachel got caught up in a scheme where she fronted tens of thousands of dollars for trips and luxury experiences that never paid back, and it turned into a very public legal mess. That kind of betrayal from someone she considered a friend changed how she saw the circle of glamor photographers, influencers, socialites, and the celebrity scenes she used to move through. Beyond the literal fallout — financial stress, court appearances, media attention — there's an emotional dimension that's easy to miss unless you've been burned in public. Photographing celebrities and living in that glossy, performative world demands a kind of emotional availability and trust with subjects, clients, and peers. After the con, Rachel seemed to pivot toward a different way of processing and telling the story: writing a memoir, giving testimony, and speaking up on what happened. Publishing 'My Friend Anna' and participating in the narratives around the case (including how the story fed into shows like 'Inventing Anna') was a way to reclaim control of her own story. That makes leaving celebrity photography not just a career move but a boundary she set for herself — stepping away from environments that encouraged surface-level trust and high-stakes social maneuvering. On a practical level, the industry can be brutally cyclical and exhausting; people burn out or shift into related fields like editorial projects, books, or media. For Rachel, the book and the interviews opened different doors — a voice and platform that likely felt more honest and sustainable than chasing celebrity shots. I don't know every private detail of her decision-making, but from where I sit as a longtime reader and pop-culture junkie, it felt like a transition driven by recovery, storytelling, and the desire to rebuild on her own terms rather than continue in a space that had just left her so exposed. It left me thinking about how career paths bend around life events, and how sometimes the best work comes after a painful but clarifying break.

I still get a little caught up in how messy and human the whole saga around Rachel DeLoache Williams became once it spilled into public view. From the moment Jessica Pressler’s reporting and the Netflix series 'Inventing Anna' thrust the episode into the spotlight, Rachel went from a private person with a terrible travel-scam story to a very public figure — and that brought a tidal wave of scrutiny. People online criticized her for everything from the way she told the story to the timing of her book, with some accusing her of profiting off the drama. Her response was layered and felt like someone trying to reclaim control over a narrative that had already been bent into several different shapes by other storytellers. First, she pushed back by being visible and specific. I read a few of her interviews and excerpts where she walked through the timeline, and she participated in press to make sure her perspective was on record. She also testified in court during Anna Sorokin’s trial, which added legal weight to her version of events. For me, that felt important: it wasn’t just a social-media spat; she went through the judicial process and put things on the record. Beyond courtroom testimony, she followed up by writing publicly — later publishing her memoir to elaborate on the emotional and logistical fallout. That decision drew criticism from people who thought the story had already been mined enough, but Rachel framed it as taking back the narrative and confronting the personal consequences she faced, not just cashing in. On the flip side, I noticed she also tried to meet some criticisms with clarification and humility. When people accused her of embellishing or of benefiting unfairly, she didn’t really engage in furious public feuds — instead she explained motivations, corrected small factual points when needed, and emphasized the human cost: debt, betrayal, and confusion. One detail that struck me was how she talked about the shame and second-guessing that victims often carry; her tone in long-form interviews was more reflective than defensive. That approach doesn’t silence critics, of course, but it made her responses feel less performative and more like someone trying to heal while also standing up for the truth. There’s also a vantage point that’s quieter: Rachel used her visibility to warn others. Whether or not you love how she packaged her story, she leaned into the educational side of what happened — talking about how con artists manipulate social settings, how peer pressure factors in, and how trust gets weaponized. I caught myself thinking about conversations I’ve had with friends after bingeing 'Inventing Anna' — we all wanted practical takeaways, and her interviews often supplied them. At the end of the day, I feel like her public handling was a mix of legal action, candid storytelling, and attempts at damage control. It didn’t stop the critics, but it did give victims and onlookers something useful: a fuller picture and a reminder to be wary without being paranoid. If you’re curious, skim a few of her interviews alongside the trial coverage — it paints a more human, messy picture than the dramatized version alone.

Her take on photography always felt quietly proud and very human to me. I talk about her words like they're little lanterns: she described her photography work as intimate and observational, the sort that prioritizes feeling over flash. She said she wanted images that read like memories—soft edges, honest light, moments that look lived-in rather than posed. That idea of truth and small details runs through everything she showed, whether it was a portrait, a coffee table scene, or a travel frame. Reading about her process, I got the sense she treated photography as a way to archive people and places honestly, not to glamorize. That mindset made her pictures feel personal, the kind you'd want to hang in a hallway because they remind you of a real afternoon or a real friend.

I still find the whole saga a wild mix of true-crime fever and glossy gossip, and Rachel DeLoache Williams ended up right in the eye of that storm. To set the scene briefly: she was one of the women who befriended Anna Sorokin (aka Anna Delvey) and ultimately got burned, covering a massive hotel bill and being left holding the tab. After Rachel went public with her experience in long-form reporting and later in her memoir, the publicity brought empathy but also a pile of controversies that I watched unfold like episodes of a soap crossed with a legal drama. One big criticism was about perceived profiteering and timing. Many people cheered when Rachel spoke up — her firsthand account helped frame what happened and humanized the victims — but others accused her of monetizing the experience. Critics pointed to book deals, magazine pieces, and interviews as evidence that she was benefiting from her trauma. There were heated online takes asking whether it was OK to sell a story that had legal ramifications for someone else, and whether journalists and memoirists should be allowed to profit from being entangled in a crime. From where I sat, this felt like the broader media dilemma: survivors and witnesses need ways to tell their stories, but the optics of paid deals make for easy criticism. Another thorny area was accuracy and portrayal. Once the story went mainstream — especially after the Netflix dramatization 'Inventing Anna' — fans and armchair detectives started dissecting every detail Rachel shared. Some argued she exaggerated bits for drama, while others defended her recollection as the natural product of trauma and media condensation. The dramatization itself led to fresh complaints: people debated whether the show painted her fairly, whether scenes were embellished, and whether the real-life nuance of relationships among those social circles was flattened for TV. Rachel also faced the darker side of public life: targeted abuse online, doxxing attempts, and people turning her into either a villain or a heroine depending on their sympathies. There was also a wider conversation about privilege and the social dynamics at play. Critics used Rachel's story to ask why certain crimes in wealthy, socialite circles get so much attention, and whether the coverage centered on style over substance — more chit-chat about hotels and outfits than about how and why the scam worked. Supporters countered that her willingness to testify and go public was important, that it helped prosecutors and future victims. Personally, as someone who reads too many true-crime pieces and loves dissecting media narratives, I felt torn: Rachel’s accounts are powerful and instructive, but the celebrity-culture spin made it easy for people to attack motives instead of focusing on the wrongdoing. If you’re curious about the nuanced takes, I’d say read her longer pieces alongside independent reporting on Anna Sorokin’s case to get both the human perspective and the legal context. It’s messy, and that mess is part of why the story keeps getting retold — and why Rachel became a lightning rod for a bunch of legitimate debates about journalism, trauma, and how we consume scandal.

I got sucked into this one the way I do with any juicy memoir backstory—two mugs of coffee, YouTube on in the background, and a tab open for every podcast app I could think of. From what I’ve followed, Rachel DeLoache Williams first put the Anna Sorokin episode front and center through her reporting and pieces with 'Vanity Fair', and after that the memoir-related interviews surfaced across a handful of familiar places: print outlets, big-name podcast shows, and morning TV segments. If you’re trying to pin down where she talked specifically about the interviews she conducted for her memoir, the places I usually check first are the big magazines and the longform interview pods, since that’s where writers unpack process and sources in depth. As someone who compulsively bookmarks conversation pieces, I’ll give you a checklist that’s worked for me when tracking author interviews. Start with 'Vanity Fair' because that outlet was the origin point for the public drama she was involved in, and authors often do follow-up features or Q&As there. Then look for audio conversations on 'Fresh Air' (NPR) and on 'The New York Times' Book Review podcast—those platforms love to dig into how memoirs were assembled, who was interviewed, and how authors decided what to put in or leave out. Morning shows like 'Today' or 'CBS This Morning' sometimes run shorter, promotional interviews where an author will mention the biggest interviews they did for a book. For longer, candid chats, search podcast feeds like 'The Cut' podcast and independent interviewers on YouTube who post full-length sit-downs; those videos often have timestamps so you can jump right to the part about the memoir interviews. If you want a practical route: type Rachel DeLoache Williams + "memoir interview" into a search engine, then filter by video or podcast for recorded conversations. Her social media profiles are another direct line—authors often post links to their recent interviews or embed clips from their appearances. Library and bookstore event listings can also help; sometimes writers read excerpts and then do a Q&A where they spell out who they interviewed and why. I’ve had luck finding transcripts on publication websites or via the podcast show notes—those notes frequently list the interview topics and links to full transcripts. I’m still that person who saves the timestamped clips to rewatch the parts where writers talk about their research methods, so if you want, tell me whether you prefer longform audio or short TV clips and I’ll point you toward the best places to look first. Either way, there’s usually a neat little moment in these interviews where the author explains why a particular conversation made it into the book, and those are my favorite bits to re-listen to on lazy afternoons.

Some days I catch myself scrolling through interviews and thinking about how strange it feels to watch someone turn a personal ordeal into something that helps others think about trust, privilege, and storytelling. Rachel DeLoache Williams burst into wider public view after her story about being conned by a fake heiress went viral, and that led to her writing a memoir called 'My Friend Anna' that laid out her side of the story in detail. Since then she’s been pretty active in media — longform interviews, podcast conversations, and live events where she talks about journalism, boundaries, and what it’s like to be both subject and author. If you follow her on social, you’ll notice she posts about appearances and occasionally teases writing projects, which is where the breadcrumb trail for “what she’s developing now” usually shows up first. From what I’ve pieced together by following her public feed and the publisher updates, she’s been doing two things in parallel: promoting her book and exploring adaptations and other longform storytelling formats. That often means meetings with producers, talking to podcast producers about serialized storytelling, and being involved in option conversations — sometimes that leads to something big like a TV adaptation, and sometimes it ends with a small digital series or a podcast season. I’ve seen authors in similar spots get involved as consultants or co-producers, especially when their lived experience is central to the narrative. Rachel has mentioned collaborating with journalists and creatives who want to dig deeper into the cultural currents around the case, so an adaptation or a documentary tie-in wouldn’t surprise me. Beyond the screen possibilities, she’s been doing writing gigs and essays that build on the themes of her memoir: trust, trauma, and the social structures that let cons like that happen. A lot of writers use the momentum from a memoir to launch into related nonfiction projects — think investigative deep dives, profile collections, or even work that branches into personal-essay territory about healing and recovery. She also pops up on panels and gives keynote-style talks; those public appearances can sometimes turn into workshop series or teaching gigs, which are projects in their own right. If you want the most reliable, up-to-the-minute info, check her official author page and her publisher’s site, and follow the profiles where she posts announcements and event dates. Personally, I love watching this stage of a writer’s journey — it’s messy and hopeful at once. If you’re curious about concrete updates, I’d bookmark her publisher’s page and set alerts for her name on news sites that cover publishing and entertainment deals, because that’s where things like option pickups and production news show up first. Also, drop into a recent podcast episode with her; you often get the best hints there, with the most honest tone.

I get weirdly hooked on the kind of interviews that let you see someone's whole professional map unfolding, not just the lurid headline. If you want to understand Rachel DeLoache Williams’ career — how a photo editor at a big glossy morphed into a public storyteller after getting wrapped up in the Anna Delvey saga — start with long-form magazine pieces and feature interviews. Read Jessica Pressler’s original New York Magazine feature, because it sets the scene and quotes people like Rachel in context; that piece is the backbone for a lot of later coverage and helps explain why journalists and editors were suddenly thrust into a true-crime spotlight. After that, hunt down Rachel’s on-camera interviews with national morning shows — big outlets like 'Today' and 'CBS This Morning' did segments where she speaks directly, and those are gold for tone and personality. On TV you get the cadence, the little asides, and the parts that don’t always survive in print. Complement those with transcripts or written profiles in outlets like 'Vanity Fair' and 'The New York Times' for a clearer timeline: how she started in photography and editorial rooms, what the trip to Europe meant for her career and finances, and how she handled the public fallout. The magazine pieces will give you career context; the TV clips give you the human texture. If you like deep dives, look for podcast interviews and longer audio pieces recorded after the trial. Podcasts tend to let guests expand beyond soundbites, and Rachel uses that space to reflect on lessons learned, media ethics, and how her work life shifted after the incident. When I was piecing this together for a friend, I used a combo: Pressler’s original feature for background, Rachel’s morning-show interviews to feel her tone, and a few podcasts for the reflective parts. Also, watch the dramatization 'Inventing Anna' if you want to see a fictionalized version of events — then compare it to Rachel’s real interviews to separate myth from memory. A pro tip: search by date (2018–2020) and include keywords like 'Rachel DeLoache Williams interview', 'Anna Delvey friend', and 'trial' — that usually surfaces the most revealing conversations. Honestly, reading and listening to multiple formats gave me a fuller picture of her career shift than any single interview did, and it made me appreciate how messy real-life media stories are.