I think that my honesty sometimes disarms peoples true thoughts and feelings about what i have done. I’ve definitely changed from then to now but we both know sadly that i only see one way out of prison or stopping myself from hurting others. It would be easy to say i wouldn’t hurt others out there. But we both know how volitile my mood swings are.
-Brent Brents 10-29-11
Author Archives: Amy Herdy
stopping myself from hurting others
Filed under Brents' writings
Writing Diary of a Predator: A Memoir
Part two.
When I first started writing the book, I put together the requisite non-fiction book proposal: I wrote the first chapter, summaries of the rest of the chapters, and an overview. Then, as I said earlier, the interested publisher got fired, my literary agent never called me back and I decided to give the book project a break.
A really long break.
Every once in a while, I’d open up the Word file and peek at the chapter and the summaries. It was a standard true-crime book, told in narrative fashion, which is my favorite form of writing and one that I learned at the St. Petersburg Times. And slowly, the heavy rock of discouragement lifted, and I started to be drawn back to the book more and more.
The tweaking began.
And since all writers need feedback, I started cautiously asking different people if they’d give their opinions. I eventually got downright bold about it, emailing the entire thing first to my sister, and then to a close friend.
“Not bad,” they both said. “But you need to put more of yourself in it.”
Ak! That’s not what reporters do. We are classically trained in, Just the facts, ma’am, and we don’t insert ourselves into our stories.
But these were people whose opinions I respected, so I revealed a little more of what it was like to report on that serial rapist case.
And they became like hungry baby birds: “More! More!”
So I did. And the more I revealed, the easier the self disclosure became. Soon it wasn’t enough to just detail the process and the effects of covering this case, I decided that I needed to include some of my history so that the reader would have context for my reactions and choices.
And then I took a deep breath, and gave the bare bones of the book to an audience I was sure would hate it: Cops.
To be continued…
Filed under The story
1178 in The Stand
I’m on 1178 in The Stand. Dayna Jurgens is in Las Vegas. I love this book! 🙂 I love how it is about faith but not so die hard. When Nick tells Mother Abigail he isn’t a believer she’s ok with it. She still believes in him. And Tom Cullen Talk about innocent in God’s eyes. Moon Spell Tom.
-Brent Brents 10-23-11
Filed under Brents' writings
My brain is like a waste water plant
So truth be told i am struggling with the meds a bit. I’m OK, but not ok. I don’t really know how to explain mental illness. In my classes over the years I’ve been taught to try to verbalize my feelings thru pictures. So i guess the best way i can describe it is this. My brain is like a waste water plant lots of shit goes in and clean water goes out but it’s not purely clean. It still has micro particles of medications. So some people are still engesting them. My brain is a muddle of shit right now. But it will get processed in time. So please hang in there ok. I’m there Amy. My heart and soul are there. Even if my brain is messed up.
-Brent Brents 10-23-11
Filed under Brents' writings
tension tremors
So this is the first day in two and a half weeks i have been able to hold a pen, spoon, piece of bread or book, cup, etc. without really bad tremors. They are called tension tremors its a temporary side effect. It comes and goes. Sometimes to bad to do anything usefull other times its just a tiny tick of a muscle.
-Brent Brents 10-22-11
Filed under Brents' writings
Writing Diary of a Predator: A Memoir
Part one: During all my years as a working journalist, my favorite part of the process was sitting down at my desk with a stack of notebooks beside me and a blank computer screen in front of me. I loved it for the Rubik’s cube-like challenge of putting all the details neatly into place, even though this usually happened under the constraints of a ticking deadline clock and sometimes with an editor literally breathing down my neck, demanding, “How close are you?”
I never had writer’s block, ever. I never missed a deadline. Since I usually wrote the lead to the story in my head while driving back to the newsroom, and the lead is the hardest part, the rest of it would fall into place like a row of obedient dominoes.
And then I decided to write a book, and found to be true what a friend of mine predicted, “Writing that book is going to kick your ass.”
The volume of the material was overwhelming: The court file alone was more than 500 pages. I had dozens of filled notebooks, stacks of documents I’d copied from Brents’ case file at the public defender’s office, transcripts of police interviews and copies of police reports.
I also had hundreds of pages of letters and journal entries from Brents, and he continued to write, sending letters every week. They filled a filing cabinet, and when that overflowed, I bought another.
The idea of the book soon loomed like the proverbial elephant in the living room, only this elephant was a hulking, smelly woolly mammoth with sharp spikes for tusks. I wanted nothing to do with it.
I told myself that I was too busy to try to start writing the book, that the material was so complex that it couldn’t be tackled in between juggling a family and a full-time job.
I told myself I needed time to get over the crushing blow of having a major, albeit controversial, publisher interested in it only to be fired the very week we were supposed to meet, swiftly followed by the crushing blow of my first literary agent simply disappearing on me.
And all those things were true. But what I really needed in order to be able to write that book was to slowly come to the realization that this wasn’t going to be simply a true-crime book; that in order to tell the story properly I had to do it fully. That meant opening a vein and revealing parts of myself that were deeply personal, as well as stepping back from my beloved craft and writing about the dark side of journalism itself.
Coming up: Writing Diary of a Predator: A Memoir, part two.
Filed under The story
Here’s an Excerpt from the Book Diary of a Predator: A Memoir
I read this at the book signing held at The Book Cellar in Louisville, so I thought it only fair to share it with the rest of you.
And for those who have emailed me and said they’d like to know more about the process of writing this book–please know I will get to that this week in a series of posts. Writing this book was a formidable, complicated task that I put off for years until suddenly I knew it was time. And then it flowed. But more on that later. Here’s the excerpt. Thanks for visiting.
-Amy
From Diary of a Predator: A Memoir
He sat on top of a brick wall that bordered a downtown Denver parking lot and waited.
It was a perfect vantage point—high enough to give him a bird’s eye view of every direction and yet shielded by the shadows of nearby buildings to prevent any glint of streetlight reflecting off his wire-rimmed glasses. As a hunter of humans, he knew the importance of those things.
Ever the patient wolf, he flexed his thick forearms while he waited for a sheep to appear. And then he saw her and had instant recognition. He knew he had seen her before—he never forgot a face—and it only took him a moment to remember where: first on TV months ago, talking about some story dealing with rape in the military, and then later on the Denver Post elevator. A reporter. He’d still been in prison when those military rape stories ran, and watched her on the news. She was sharp and earnest, and had a fierce energy to her that had caught his attention. She reminded him of that social worker he once knew, the modern-day crusader. She also had long brown hair, like Teresa.
Now she was within his sights, and he sized her up: Wearing a dark suit, she was tall and athletic-looking, but he had brute strength
and the element of surprise. And it would be so easy—just a hop off the wall and a few quick strides, and he could cut her off before she
reached her car. No one was around to hear if she tried to scream.
Just then, she passed under a street light, and through the curtain of her long, straight brown hair, he caught a glimpse of her face. She looked so . . . sad. Heavily burdened, as if any moment, she would dissolve into tears. He sat rooted as she unlocked her car and got inside and then did something unexpected: laying her cell phone on the dash, she pulled out a pen from behind her right ear, tucked her hair back in its place, closed her eyes, and just sat there.
Minutes passed, and he stared, feeling unable to move. He found himself scanning the street, not wanting anyone to disturb her. Then
she sighed deeply, started the Jeep’s engine, and drove away.
Still seated on the wall, the man stared after the car. He would see her again.
He’d make a point of it.
Filed under The story
Viewer: Acts Were Monstrous, He Is Not
Dear Amy:
My name is Natasha and I just finished watching ‘On the Case with Paula Zahn’ about the Brents story and had to look you up because you’re awesome, and you need to be thanked on behalf of society for being an exceptional human being who obviously genuinely cares & wants to make this diseased culture healthier.
I am currently studying for my Master of Arts in Counseling Psychology and have had a particular interest in sexual predators for years. I come at it from a similar place that you do — your answers to Paula Zahn’s questions were almost verbatim what mine were when I was talking back to the TV. I am very excited to order your book (Diary of a Predator: A Memoir) from Amazon (I live in Canada) and learning more about this CRITICAL work you have done with/about Brents, and I hope people will suspend their judgment and really try to understand how sadists are created because this is the ONLY way we can put an end to this kind of suffering.
Next time you write to Brents, can you please thank him for letting the public into his life through you, and let him know that there are others who empathize with him and agree with you that his acts were monstrous, but he was/is not? Thank you.
Sincerely & Respectfully,
Natasha
Filed under The story
A Heartening Response to the Initial Book Reading of “Diary of a Predator: A Memoir”
I’m a journalist, so cynicism comes a little too easy.
The first book signing for Diary of a Predator: A Memoir, held at the Book Cellar in Louisville, Colo.
And I have to admit I was nervous about how “Diary of a Predator: A Memoir” would be received. It’s not just a true crime book; it’s a dual memoir about a serial rapist and my time as a journalist covering his case, and the life-changing effects that had on me. It’s not your everyday kind of memoir.
To say that I reveal personal details in this book is an understatement. But I felt I needed to reveal my history for this story, in addition to the journalistic process, so that the reader would have context as to the impact this case had on my life.
In other words, full disclosure. And that, especially for a journalist who is used to telling other people’s stories and never her own, left me feeling a bit exposed, like I had somehow pulled my heart out of my chest and laid it on the table.
Signing a book at the first book reading for "Diary of a Predator: A Memoir"
But it wasn’t my heart, it was my book, and the folks who came to the very first book reading at the Book Cellar in Louisville, Colo. on October 7 proved to me that they not only understood it but welcomed it. I felt supported and gratified beyond description.
I give Ellen a hug at the book signing.
There were lots of people I wrote about in the book who showed up, among them, Ellen, whose amazing story is featured in Diary of a Predator: A Memoir.
Meeting someone like her, and continuing to know her, inspires me. And the fact that she and the others came to listen and support the book warms me, and gives me hope.
Filed under The story
Marina’s fight crime blog
There is a woman named Marina who has a blog dedicated to fighting crime. It’s called, appropriately, “Marina’s Fight Crime Blog.” In a recent post, she commented on this website, and in part said this:
“I feel every abused child has leftover scars left on their spirit and nobody on this Earth can tell but the victim of childhood abuse alone what these scars led them to do in their future.”
I agree. Or as former Colorado governor Bill Ritter once told me when he was the Denver D.A., “We are all broken people.”
Click here to read Marina’s blog post.
Filed under Uncategorized
Diary of a Predator 