It's there because today I'm doing something I never wanted to do: I'm going to ask you to help me continue running this site, writing my books and speaking out about serious topics like child sexual abuse and domestic violence.

If you've read my book, you know the newspaper industry helped save my four children and I from going on the public dole. But even more important, it provided us with a decent standard of living and gave me the chance to stand where I do today: as a survivor who has come very, very far from the battered, frightened and woefully insecure victim she once was.

In 2008, as the print journalism world took a steep nosedive, I left my last newspaper job at the Cumberland Times-News in Cumberland, Md. I carried away two awards for the newspaper columns that readers have known me for from the first one I wrote just before Linda Benson first gave me a weekly column in 1988, which we together titled "Vintage Berry Wine."

I've tried to make this website a continuation of that very first column, as a way of reaching out to all of you—"old" readers who have followed my newspaper work—and new readers who have found out about me in other ways. I'd like to think I've succeeded, even though my writing hasn't occurred at a weekly basis here. Sometimes it's been more, but often times, it's been much less.

That's because last year I finally jumped into the shark-infested waters of the self-publishing world. I did this so I could give you what you've been asking for since you first heard of it: Sister of Silence, the memoir that covers 14 years of my life—beginning when I was sexually abused at 13, and continuing until I finally faced the demons I'd been living with for so long, by checking myself into a mental hospital in 1991.

To do this, I formed my own small, independent publishing company, Nellie Bly Books. (It's no mistake that I named my company after one of the best journalists in the country, Elizabeth Jane Cochran, a Pittsburgh, Pa., journalist who went by the pen name "Nellie Bly." She was credited with many things, including the invention of investigative journalism and in 1887 she went undercover at a "lunatic asylum" in New York City. Her subsequent exposè is said to have been responsible for bringing about some much-needed reforms in mental hospitals. Bly courageously exposed corruption and wrote about, among other things, social reform and unwed mothers.)

If I believed in reincarnation, I would say I was Nellie Bly in a past life. But I don't and besides, I've only accomplished a tiny sliver of what she did, and my writing might be worthy of being called a poor imitation of hers, at best. But getting back to the business of writing . . .

Since I have a business degree, I knew exactly what I was doing when I formed this LLC—and why it was such a big gamble. Business classes taught me that the majority of small start-ups fail within the first year. They also taught me the best way to minimize that risk was to have enough working capital on hand to keep NBB afloat until it started to turn a profit—or for at least two years.

Using just such capital—with proceeds I'd squirreled away from my unemployment—I paid $6,000 for a small print run of 2,000 paperback copies of SOS. (This figure does not include shipping or the other hefty fees involved, such as filing for and receiving approval for the NBB logo from the United States Patent and Trademark Office.) In the meantime, I hired consultants to do some necessary work I couldn't do (such as designing the book cover and logo, or formatting the new SOS e-book), and paid for a part-time office worker.

I also gave away hundreds of books—and ate the cost of shipping and handling myself. If you divide only the print cost above, and tack on $3.62 (the average cost to mail just one book at media rate), you will see that each paperback book has cost me more than $6 apiece. But that figure is still quite low, given all of the other work that goes into making sure you—my readers—receive the quality products you deserve.

So the measly $6K does not begin to cover the expenses I incur, when I fly to conferences and speak about about abuse, or talk to high school or college students—for which I have not been reimbursed by anyone. Nor does it cover the upcoming SOS book trailer—which will be filmed next week, and which will require two days worth of food, some lodging, a few props, and other costs for our small group.

The long and short of it is this: I had hoped to begin making a profit sooner rather than later. And while my ebook is selling quite well, even on the best days those sales nets me only a few dollars, at most. That isn't enough to do all I need to do, to continue doing what I've been doing for the last 13 years. Especially when I'm not getting a salary every two weeks, like I did at my last job.

In addition, I am woefully overworked—and I've never been a workaholic. I'm passionate about researching, writing, and reporting, but I have other things I enjoy as well, that have nothing to do with my work. The entire reason for this particular column came about earlier this week, when I met a friend at 7:30 a.m., after just 3.5 hours of sleep, to do some volunteer work.

She and other people have been coming out of the woodwork this week, urging me to seek financial assistance in the form of donations from individuals and other companies. That's why I'm taking their advice today. When donations have reached a level where I can continue my work without killing myself, the "Donate" button will come down. Until then, it's there for anyone who wants to help support a "starving writer" determined to continue doing just that: writing and providing something meaningful for you to read.

Thank you for reading, for helping, and for just being here!

Editor's note: For the time being, the donate button has been disabled.

It's also one of the best. Before I tell you what that is, let's go back to Tuesday for a minute.

There are a few reasons to waive a prelim, but having more evidence released to the public is one of the biggest ones defendants take this step. Some people have speculated that was indeed the reason Sandusky waived his rights. Within seconds after that major announcement, came whispers of a plea deal. I've read so much about this case that I can't remember where I read it, but I did see something about that myself.

It's quite common for prosecutors to spare victims of sex crimes by offering up the defendant a plea bargain on a platter, since it saves victims from reliving their abuse all over again. But what follows is my take on why a plea deal might be struck in this particular case.

For the last six weeks, as the world has weighed in on the biggest U.S. sporting scandal ever—one that was about anything but sports—I’ve had a nagging thought in the back of my mind as I’ve listened and read about the Penn State sex abuse tragedy: What are people going to do when they learn the victims willingly took part in their own abuse?

That’s because I did the same thing, when I was their age. I was no different than the youngsters targeted by The Second Mile, who was started to help children who “need additional support and who would benefit from positive human contact.” Being reared in a single-parent, low-income household automatically qualifies one as “vulnerable,” or “disadvantaged”—the two other adjectives used to describe the alleged victims of Penn State coach and Second Mile founder Jerry Sandusky.

News of the scandal broke when the public learned of the former defensive coordinator’s arrest and molestation charges in early November. About the same time, the school’s vice president and its athletic director were charged with failing to report the suspected abuse, and for lying to the grand jury. The biggest news to come from this scandal, though, is the firing of Penn State’s legendary head coach Joe Paterno. In fact, other than details revealed in the grand jury transcript, news about the eight (and now nine) alleged victims has been predictably scant.

Paterno has captured the headlines more than anyone, save perhaps Mike McQueary, who told the grand jury he walked into a locker room and saw Sandusky raping a boy of 10. McQueary, now an assistant Penn State coach—but then a 28-year-old grad assistant—has since been placed on administrative leave and is believed to be in protective custody.

When it comes to disadvantaged homes, society probably understands that coming from one means the financial or familial perspective: resources are stretched thin, leaving the children on their own, or money isn’t plentiful, meaning basics like new tennis shoes are out of the question.

But I doubt it understands what being one of these youth means from an emotional aspect: having one parent in the home—as is true in 34-percent of households in this country—means the children don’t get as much attention, affection and love from that parent.

A man who knows more about this topic than most law enforcement officers put together is Ken Lanning. He wrote the foreword for my first book, Sister of Silence. Those seven pages are the analytical equivalent of my story, and provide an equally alarming eye-opener for parents who want to know how child molesters think, speak and act. They also provide insight into the mind of a child, explaining why children will return to their molester again and again, essentially becoming a willing participant in their own abuse.

This type of “acquaintance molestation” is what Lanning calls “the often forgotten piece in the puzzle of the sexual victimization of children.” He says it’s hard “for society and even professionals to face,” because people want to believe child molesters are ugly, evil strangers. They would rather believe that than the truth: It can be anyone “who has access to children.”

Lanning knows the biggest problem people have is believing the child’s role in all of this. “The idea that child victims could simply behave like human beings and respond to the attention and affection of offenders, by voluntarily and repeatedly returning to an offender, is a troubling one,” he said in the foreword.

Because this type of molester can spend a long time seducing first, the potential victim’s parents or caretakers, to gain their trust and confidence, and then, the intended victim, there’s no need for any force. That’s why Lanning says “an acquaintance molester who seduces his victims without violence can sometimes go unreported for thirty years or more.”

This is exactly what happened to Sandusky’s alleged victims, as shown in the grand jury testimony, and how my seduction occurred, as well. And when someone—a nice neighbor, a family friend, or a football coach—comes along and shows an interest in you, you immediately “get a life.” At 13, I was escorted to the Dairy Queen and the movies in a nice, shiny new vehicle; by the time I turned 16, he was buying me clothing and making my decisions for me.

And I loved it—every second of it. Well, except for the times when he convinced me that my repayment for his kindness should come in some form of sex. But those coerced occasions were quickly forgotten with a gift, a trip to the DQ or yet another truckload of wood he brought to help heat our home. He also knew he shouldn’t touch me, and kept promising me again and again, that he wouldn’t do it again. So I kept returning. To him, to what he could give me or do for me, and to the sex—which my body responded to and enjoyed—but which I could not get my mind to wrap around, try as I might.

Just as the targeted child or adolescent life in some ways changes for the better, so does the parent’s life: they finally have someone showing an interest in their offspring, and helping with the parenting workload. At least, that’s how it seems on the surface. I wrote about this in Lethal Silence, a book that looks at four families whose children died or were at risk of death, due to being victims of violence. (Due to be published as an e-book later this month.)

“When (Eddie) began helping our family, my mother was struggling with a shortage of several resources: time to properly instruct or even interact with her children, money for auto and home repairs, as well as a mate to help carry the load.

While Dad was overseas he sent little money home, forcing Mom to struggle just to get by. If she wasn’t trying to provide for her children on an almost nonexistent income, all while living in a dilapidated house that required constant work to ensure it was safe and warm, she was filling out paperwork so we could receive food stamps or heating oil. At first a single parent working two part-time jobs, after Dad returned home for a short visit a few times, Mom later became an overwhelmed pregnant mother who simply couldn’t be both parents to her growing family. She was a perfect mark for a twenty-year-old man who found girls of thirteen more sexually stimulating than young women his own age. It must have seemed like a blessing when the man who would eventually rape me offered to perform house repairs or provide free fuel and transportation.”

Lanning, who spent 30 years with the FBI and who has trained thousands of law enforcement officers and criminal justice professionals about child sexual abuse, said my story is both like all the others he’s investigated and yet equally unique. He also said it feels like he’s got a crystal ball, because he’s investigated so many of these cases that he already knows much of their outcome.

For example, one of the alleged victims has testified he voluntarily went to Sandusky’s home and had dinner after the abuse took place. Lanning said people automatically think, “if you were really victimized, you wouldn’t do it.” They also ask, “Why do these kids keep going back?” Lanning said.

This “absolutely happens all the time in these cases. Is it something that people understand? No, hardly anybody understands it,” Lanning said. That even includes the investigators charged with trying to bring such crimes to trial, he added.

These cases become even murkier when “the bad guys don’t cooperate and they don’t stay inside the lines” and do what society thinks he should, Lanning said. As an example, child molesters are usually divided into three groups: stranger, family member or acquaintance. Within those divisions, come others: age or gender, for instance. Mine liked girls of 13, while Sandusky allegedly favored boys of the same age, or slightly younger.

Now, though, comes the troubling news of allegations of abuse from one of Sandusky’s own grandsons: this boy is only five. “This case involves an acquaintance molester who befriends kids, grooms them and seduces them, showers them with attention and affection, gives status, privileges . . . and the primary reason to do that is to get children to cooperate in this activity so you don’t have to use knives, guns, weapons and threats,” Lanning said.

This leads to what’s called “compliant child victims,” like me, or like the Second Mile victims who are slowly coming forward in State College. But instead of asking why kids like us would become complicit in our own crimes, let’s instead start educating ourselves about child sexual abuse. That involves not passing on the same fairytales about what molesters, or victims, look like.

It also means realizing that stereotypes don’t fit when it comes to this type of crime: just as each and every fingerprint is different—so is each and every case of child sexual abuse.

Before I tell you why they’re wrong, let’s review yesterday’s preempted preliminary hearing in the sleepy little town of Bellefonte, Pa. Because the biggest news to come out of the place wasn’t that Joe Amendola waived his client’s rights to have the prelim—it was that Amendola, the Pennsylvania defense attorney who represents Sandusky, offered up late night TV hosts like David Letterman pure cake and their best material to date, when he referenced a gay phone sex line, while making light of the child sexual abuse allegations his client is facing.

If you didn’t know who Amendola was before one of the most anticipated preliminary hearings in recent years, you sure do now: That’s because Amendola had some really sage advice for anyone who believes Mike McQueary's account that Sandusky sexually abused boys coming through the doors of his Second Mile charity—or that Penn State officials wouldn’t have stopped him, if Sandusky had done so.

Here’s what Amendola suggested the folks who gathered in Bellefonte do: “I suggest you dial 1-800-REALITY.”

It was either a brilliant tactical move on Amendola’s part, or the worst attorney error in history. (And given that, almost overnight, another attorney has joined Sandusky’s defense team, I’d say it was a huge gaffe.)

But it could also be quite brilliant because—guess what—during a three-hour telephone interview with Ken Lanning recently, he shed some very important light on this particular case. “There’s no victims easier to seduce than an adolescent boy. Why? Because what gives an adolescent boy an erection? Anything!” Lanning said. “Men who molest boys understand that . . . They take this characteristic of adolescent boys and use it to their advantage.”

Now before you dismiss Lanning as crass, or talking off the top of his head, you should probably know he’s considered one of the top experts in the area of child sexual abuse: he worked in a supervisory capacity as an FBI special agent and instructed thousands of law enforcement officials at Quantico and elsewhere, about this very crime. (He also wrote the foreword for my book, Sister of Silence, which is essentially like this case—only with a role reversal for the victims.)

Essentially, he’s maybe one of three people in the country who has as much specialized knowledge about the topic of child sex abuse. So when he talks, I listen. I hope you will, too.

Because there’s something else that Lanning knows that shows how Amendola’s reference to a gay (and bi) sex line could have been quite a good move for his client.

Here it is: even today, many people remain homophobic—and boys who have been molested know this, too. Which is why the majority of them never come forward. Why most of them remain silent.

“They’re the least likely to tell anybody, because of shame, guilt and embarrassment, and the number one reason they don’t tell is because of the stigma of homosexuality,” Lanning said. “It’s more acceptable now, but adolescent boys know it’s not good, because once you have had sex with an adult male, people label you ‘gay.’”

And that might just be the truth—or it might not be.

“They are gay, they might be gay, or they might not know, because they’re adolescents. So they don’t tell anyone when this happens—because the minute they admit to having sex with a man, the one thing they do know is that being labeled ‘gay’ equals a miserable life,” Lanning said.

Let's make this crystal clear: Lanning is not saying boys who are molested are gay, or that their abusers are. What he is saying is that because of people's homophobic fear about gays, for a male teen to be labeled as such is the social equivalent to a death sentence. And that is why these particular victims of sexual assault often go to great lengths to pretend nothing sexual happened.

All of this is crucial to other cases of male-on-male acquaintance molestation where child sexual abuse occurs after much grooming and seduction on the part of the molester, because of the long-term effects on society and its children.

“The most prolific of all child molesters are men who have an interest in young, adolescent boys. They have a large number of victims. They’re the most persistent and prolific of all child molesters, and they get away with it more often than any other type of molester,” Lanning said, adding that the Penn State case shows just that.

“These cases are good and bad. That’s because we’re lucky if we can get one in 10 (adolescent male victims) to disclose (what happened of a sexual nature). But they’re good because one of these guys can have hundreds of victims. (With that large number), it means you can end up with 50 victims who will testify,” Lanning said.

So, as sad as it is to say, the Penn State victim count is likely to go up. Let's just hope the first eight or 10 victims that have spoken out so far are not intimidated by Amendola's blunder (or his strategy). Let us also hope that the courage of these bold survivors will empower the other boys and men who are also out there, silently waiting to come forward. And let's all give them our blessing to do just that—without fear of being judged as anything other than sexual abuse victims.

I'm not lukewarm, but am either hot or cold: sometimes I take days or weeks to make a decision; other times I make them so quickly and impetuously it's gotten me into trouble. Hopefully the decision I just made will turn out to be just the opposite, because I'm hoping to get copies of Sister of Silence into the hands of the victims. I want to do my part, to help in some small way, and that's the best I can think of.

If you want to keep tabs on my trip today, you can follow me on Facebook or Twitter as I make my way to Bellefonte.

Please do your part to help sexual abuse victims everywhere, as this case--which is being called "a watershed moment in the understanding of child sexual abuse"--helps the world understand a crime that has long been misunderstood, and its associated fallout for the victims.

But I do have to wonder if she’s deluding herself. That’s what I did for years, from the age of 13 on.

At first I was in denial, as I learned of my (ex) husband’s behavior with other 13-year-old girls, one after another. I was conflicted, about what it meant and how to handle it. I was also ashamed and terrified: both that other people would come to know our family’s dirty little secret, and that he would do the same thing to our (then) three young daughters. Or even our son.

From the time I realized what “Eddie” was doing, that he had a perversion and preferred girls of 13, it took me 10 years to leave him. If you add another three years to that, you’ll know exactly how long he was abusing me, too. For you see, I was groomed for a period of time, and was just 13 when Eddie first molested me.

Did you know there is one legal way to rape a child? Ken Lanning (who wrote the foreword for my book Sister of Silence) and I have had this discussion many times. “You get married,” Lanning said.

That’s how sex with a child (be it molestation or rape) is legally sanctioned in this country. So at 16 I went from being an abused teen to an abused wife. (Dottie was reportedly about the age of 22 by the time she and Sandusky became a couple in the mid-1960's; but I'd like more details about her prior involvement with him.)

And many men who molest children also abuse their wives. There have been famous cases of just such stories: men who have kidnapped a child, men who murder a child, men who molest children. Behind many, many of these men is a cowering woman, confused about what is happening and unsure of what to do. These wives become complicit partners to the abuse, because they themselves are being battered.

Could that be what happened to Dottie Sandusky? Very possibly, yes. It is—in my opinion—the only way she can publicly state that he is innocent of all the charges against him. Any person who is repeatedly traumatized or abused for a period of several years, or decades, can become numb to reality. What is real and what isn’t? Who knows? The victim certainly doesn’t—or if she does, the last thing she wants is for other people to know, too.

It might be classic cognitive dissonance —where a person’s beliefs and actions don’t line up, and the only thing left to do is to justify the conflict in your mind by making excuses or flatly denying it.

Case in point: from all corners, Jerry Sandusky is hailed as a great guy who loves kids. So Dottie tells herself that what she’s seeing and hearing cannot possibly be what she thinks it is. Her husband continues to abuse young boys, and Dottie continues to deny it’s happening—just as she might be denying her own abuse at Sandusky’s hands.

The one thing I know for sure is that many abused women go through their entire lives in denial about the true state of their own married lives. I was one, and I’ve met many, many others.

For Dottie to ever admit that she’s married to someone who has not only been accused of rape by numerous victims—but that such victims rarely lie about serious crimes like sexual abuse—she first would have to admit she herself is abused. Or, that she’s made a very grave mistake in her assessment of her husband. Or both.

Not an easy thing for anyone—who wants to admit they’ve made a mistake? It would be incredibly difficult to do so when you’re under a national spotlight. So let’s give Dottie time to do that—and get her posthaste to a skilled mental health specialist, who can help her come to terms with the truth.

Well, the blogosphere contests are over and whew, do I have some work to do: Goodreads announced via an email I received at 3:03 a.m. that 1,099 people—some of them from Scotland, New South Wales, and elsewhere—entered to win a free copy of Sister of Silence!

Now I just have to decide how to choose the winners. Unlike the 156 entries from the DearReader and Shelf-Awareness contests, it's a lot more work when you've got almost ten times as many people who entered the Goodreads contest. There's the collating and printing of each name, and then they must be cut apart, if I'm going to put them all into a (much bigger) hat. Or I could just go through the list of entrants and look at their photos, and choose the ones with the best smiles. Or the best hairdo, or choose only those folks who like the same kind of books I do. I could even base my decision upon where they live, for instance, by saying I'm going to award a free book to everyone in Texas. Or Tallahassee, Fl.

I'm really not sure what to do—so why don't you help me? Send your suggestions to the email below or post it on my Facebook or Twitter page. I'll read them all during the weekend and make my decision Sunday night. The winners will be selected and announced Monday morning.

Maybe you can also give me some feedback on the following: in the first contest, people saw my photo, and 156 of them were "hooked" by this:

Dear Reader,

I'm giving away 10 books plus Starbucks gift cards. Write to me - daleen(dot)berry(at)gmail.com - to win.

But in the Goodreads contest, readers there saw a photo of the SOS cover, and 1,099 entered after reading this:

A victim of child sex abuse at thirteen, she was forced into a shotgun wedding after her high school was featured on national television for having the highest number of pregnant teens in the U.S. But then Daleen found herself married to a coal miner who kept her barefoot and pregnant. By age twenty-one she had four children. Sister of Silence is the amazing story of her personal journey: how she went from being a teen mom to an award-winning journalist determined to break the silence that shatters women and children's lives.

I'm new to all the sites where people could win copies of my book, including Goodreads, so I have no idea what their numbers are for members, subscribers, unique visitors or anything else. The only thing I can guess, from the much larger number of entries at Goodreads is that people like the cover of my book better than my photo! (And that's fine by me.) Just a hypothesis, here. What do you think? Send me your thoughts, for I'd love to hear them.

And now if you'll excuse me, I've got some work to do. Have a great weekend!

Editor's note: Buy your copy of Sister of Silence for $9.99 here. If you hate the way a real book feels and smells, then skip it and go for the e-book. It's only $2.99, and it's also available at the above link for the Nook and the Kindle and at Smashwords, for most other formats out there.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Sister of Silence

by Daleen Berry

Giveaway ends December 10, 2011.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

*********
For the last few days, two contests have been underway for readers in the blogosphere. And I've been bogged down with responses—so many I have had little time to attend to anything else—to the point where I totally forgot to post it here. Please don't be offended! It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me.

What I have found time to do is post info about the contests at Facebook and Twitter. The first contest can be found at DearReader.com and Shelf-Awareness.com. You can sign up for the free newsletter at Shelf-Awareness (located on the home page on the right side, in a yellow circle) or "join" the library book club of your choice at DearReader, which will allow the blog to come to your inbox.

If you're like me, though, and entry-form challenged, then just take a shortcut and go here, where you will find Sister of Silence and the contest. But hurry, it ends Sunday night (Dec. 4) at midnight (EST)!

On Monday, Dec. 5, there will be a drawing (by an independent and impartial person, who is under the age of 10) for Sister of Silence. Ten names will be pulled from the hat, and I will mail each person a copy of my paperback book AND (drum roll, please) a Starbucks gift card!

If you miss the deadline for that contest, don't despair—there is a second one! It's a free giveaway at Goodreads, a cool reading site for literary minds. All you do is register there, for free, and toss your name into the hat. This contest ends sometime Friday, Dec. 10. I'm not sure what time. (But when you enter, you'll see the clock ticking down. And, if you're better at math than I am, you should be able to figure it out for yourself.)

On Saturday, Dec. 11, there will be another drawing (by yet another independent and impartial person, who is under the age of 10) for Sister of Silence. Ten names will be pulled from the hat, and I will mail each person a copy of my paperback book. And something else free that you will like, and that may even be . . . a Gloria Jean's gift card.

I'm going to post pictures—most likely on Facebook—of the names being drawn from the hat. If you're one of the winners, and want me to post your picture, send me one (jpeg file) as soon as you receive word, and I'll gladly post your picture, too.

Finally, if you simply must read my book as soon as possible (or if you have a problem with patience, like me), or if you're loaded and just like paying for your guilty pleasures, there is still time to take advantage of my Cyber Monday special! It runs through this Saturday night.

Here's how it works: Buy a paperback copy of Sister of Silence and receive a free 30-minute phone call or Skype (or Facebook) chat with the author. (That's me!!!) If you hate the way a real book feels and smells, then skip the book and go for the e-book. It's only $2.99, and it's available for the Nook, for the Kindle and at Smashwords, for most other formats out there.

Sorry, no author chat included. Well, if you twist my arm I might . . . okay, what the hey, you win: I will throw in a free 10-minute phone call or chat. (Take the phone call—there's just something about hearing someone's voice that's a bonus.) Besides, then you'll know what I sound like and be able to hear me reading in your head as you dig into my book.

Hopefully, I'll be the only other voice in your head you hear, besides your own!

If you’ve had an alcoholic parent, or if you’ve been sexually victimized, you are more vulnerable to feelings of shame and self-doubt, along with the belief that all problems are your fault. These factors can also create a drive to be perfect and a deep-seated fear that no one will like you if they learn your darkest secret.

Actress Teri Hatcher understands this. A survivor of sexual abuse, Hatcher said she wants to “help stop the pattern in women to take less than what they deserve, and to help stop the burnt-toast syndrome for their girls . . . I don't think you have to be molested to be in pain as a woman, to feel like you don't deserve good things . . . we are all women who don't treat ourselves well enough. Women walk around feeling like everything is their fault, and if they could only be better they could get something good” (Vanity Fair, 2006).

Before we can begin to help (victims) thrive, we must first help them survive various types of abuse and their own negative feelings. So the silence and secrecy must be shattered. That means anyone who plays a role must be willing to talk about it, instead of helping to hide it by pretending we have no such thing as sexual abuse or domestic violence. It begins with parents who aren’t afraid to ask hard questions, when a child is acting out for no apparent reason. If your child’s been victimized, then you're only allowing the damage go deeper, by refusing to see it or by failing to obtain the necessary medical care and therapy your child needs.

* * *

When it comes to standing up and helping (victims) who can’t help themselves, a good example comes from my time spent as a police reporter at the Cumberland Times-News. A couple was driving by when they saw a man choking a woman on a city street, so the couple stopped their car and went to help. The injured woman had no pulse and wasn’t breathing, so Rhonda Kennell, a registered nurse, performed CPR. Police said the consequences could have been tragic, if not for Kennell’s help.

“I just feel that’s the right thing to do,” Kennell told me when I interviewed her for a news article. City Police Officer Lt. Brian Lepley said Kennell’s help was “deeply appreciated by city police and . . . just shows that people still care” (Cumberland Times-News, Dec. 16, 2007).

* * *

Jerry Toppins Jr. acted out during his teens, due to family violence. In 1990, Jerry’s dad gunned down his stepmother, Wanda, in Arthurdale, W.Va., in front of Jerry’s brother David, who was then three-years-old. That was years after Jerry’s first stepmother, Cindy, died under suspicious circumstances—and long after Jerry’s own mother, Peggy, barely escaped with her life. When she did, she took Jerry and his sister, Gujuan, with her.

Jerry’s life taught him to advocate for these victims, who are often unable to do so on their own. Abuse victims should “never hide it . . . tell everyone about every detail . . . Don't die easy, go out kicking screaming and struggling.” For everyone else, who can do something about it, he has another message. “Fight it wherever you see it. Stand up for those you see in need” (Personal correspondence, Sept. 22, 2008).

* * *

So whether it’s domestic violence, child abuse or depression, do it anyway—because you have no idea how you would feel if you do nothing.

Editor's note: This condensed information is taken from chapter one of the forthcoming Lethal Silence by Daleen Berry, to be published in December 2011. This book is an academic text that looks at several case studies involving families whose lives were shattered by a lethal silence that left children dead, and the role such stressors as child sexual abuse, teen pregnancy, depression and domestic violence played. (Copyright 2011)

If you are a parent and want to better protect your children, or if you're a victim who has survived child sexual abuse, please go to Amazon and read the foreword of Sister of Silence. Written by renowned (and now retired) FBI special agent Kenneth V. Lanning, it's well worth your time.

Ever since Sister of Silence was first released in February, I've debated with myself, with colleagues, with other authors and especially readers, over the paperback book's price. That decision was compounded when the e-book was recently released.

The way I figure, if the major publishing houses can't get a grip on what's happening well in advance, or at least in time to proactively make decisions that will benefit their companies, then how should I be able to make the best decision for my pricing model?

That's why I asked for input from the people around me. The problem was, the numbers were all over the place: from $7.99 to $19.99 for the paperback (317 pages) version, and from $2.99 to $9.99 for the e-book. Some folks warned me not to set it too low, for fear prospective buyers would somehow translate that to mean an inferior product. (Which it isn't, in my humble opinion.) Other people urged me to err on the opposite end: they didn't want me to set it too high and price myself out of the market entirely.

So I made an executive decision, setting the prices at $14.99 (discounted from the retail $18.99 ticket) and $9.99, respectively.

But in the meantime, some things have happened to make me rethink the pricing structure for my books. First and foremost, the Penn State tragedy—which has become a veritable Pandora's Box involving one of the biggest child sex abuse scandals in this country—has victims speaking out for the first time. Victims who were emboldened by this case, and by the reprisals that are occurring in this wake of this case.

And many people are actually having a dialogue about what it means to be a responsible parent, and talk to children about sex and abuse—long before and so those children don't have to become victims, too. The opinions about how to do this are pretty similar, but my guess is that parents are still going to be squeamish when it comes to discussing anything about sex with their children.

So they need all the help they can get, right? What better way to do that, than to provide what some people are calling a "groundbreaking tool" that can be used for just that purpose, at a price more people can afford? We're talking about saving not just children, but families and society, for wounded children become wounded adults—and we've all seen what wounded adults can do when they lash out at others. It isn't pretty and the carnage is often deadly.

Second, and while this is less important than the first reason, it must be given equal consideration: If The Glass Castle (which is one of the books my customers buy) is selling for less than $10 on Amazon, why should I expect my book (written by an unknown author) to be priced any higher? Personally, I don't believe I should, and I don't. Thus the SOS paperback price has been reduced to $9.99.

When it comes to the e-book, I'm going back to the feelings I had at the outset: making, selling and distributing an electronic book costs next to nothing—especially in comparison to the costs involving in the same process for a book printed on paper. J. A. Konrath said it best in The Newbie's Guide to Publishing Book, and I should have listened to him before: e-book prices have been set too high. So, if your price is too high, people who want your book badly enough will pirate it, which is lost profit. But if the price is set low enough, people who don't know you will take a chance on your book--because they don't have much to lose. (He and other self-published authors, like M. J. Rose and Amanda Hocking, have certainly found this to be true.)

The book industry is going to continue to evolve, as more e-readers and e-books roll out, and paper books will continue to find less favor among readers. For now, at least. In the meantime, it makes sense to offer the SOS e-book for $2.99, because it doesn't cost nearly that much to produce it. And in the long run, if the lower price results in more sales, then that just means that more people can be helped by reading it.

Editor's note: Nellie Bly Books now offers the reduced price for the printed book, but the new e-book prices may not show up at Amazon or Barnes and Noble for 24-hours.

If you are a parent and want to protect your children, or if you're a victim who has survived child sexual abuse, please go to Amazon and read the foreword of my book. The foreword alone is well worth your time. If, after reading that, you want to purchase SOS, you have several options: paperback or e-book, direct from Nellie Bly Books (where you can also find links to Amazon and Barnes and Noble), or even in many bookstores and libraries around the country. (That number is growing by the day. If you can't find it in a bookstore or library near you, just ask them to order it. Libraries, especially, are finding they have a long waiting list for the book, if they only have one copy in distribution.)

It’s about time.

Because breaking their own silence is the first step to healing from the horrible abuse they never should have suffered. I know this firsthand, because I’ve been speaking up about my experience with child sexual abuse and rape since 2003. I’ve encouraged other victims to speak up, and told audiences that it’s been a cathartic process for me to do so.

I’m sad it took something of this magnitude to wake up people, but I'm happy they're now wide awake.

I’m also furious that for many people, this story is only about Joe Paterno, a sports icon, or football, the country’s national pastime.

For them, it’s not about the victims at all. But for me, the victims are the one and only thing this story is about.

Whenever I blog about child sexual abuse or post pertinent comments on social networking sites, I’m equally saddened when I come across yet another victim, who says their abuse has left them suspended in time. For you see, still trapped by the secret crimes from their past, they remain unable to move forward toward their future. Nor do they seem to know how to escape the deadly silence.

What’s clear to me is that part of their problem can be traced directly to the public’s response upon learning that Penn State, a public institution, kept allegations of child sexual abuse secret. When powerful men like Paterno and games like the one Penn State played last Saturday against Nebraska hog the headlines, why would a victim feel compelled to speak out?

Although the victims who remain suspended somewhere between their past and their present, and I experienced similar types of abuse, our healing progress is clearly not the same. And how could it be, when they lack the much-needed support to help them heal?

And yet, with enough help from the people around them, they can begin that incredible journey to a place of peace. They can close the pages to their past, experience their present, and begin making plans for their future. I know this because, surrounded by supportive people who loved me, that’s exactly what I did.

The first time someone told me I healed myself was at a 2005 child abuse conference I attended. That observation came from a psychologist who specialized in cognitive behavior. His words summarized his belief about what I had accomplished, based on what he knew about my (then unpublished) memoir, Sister of Silence.

I heard this again recently, when I met with the Bay Area therapist who is using my book with her own patients. I had to know why, of all the mental health literature out there, she chose my book to use in her work. “It provides a step-by-step guide to healing,” Dr. Jean Shimozaki said. “It shows your own path, how you healed yourself.”

Until 2005, I never thought about it like that. I’m still loath to, for I had many good people around, helping me to work on the issues of abuse I needed to overcome. Here’s the thing, though: I was deeply motivated to heal, for the sake of my children, and for the future of our family. I did not want the abuse I experienced to continue in each successive generation, as I know so often happens. So I worked very hard to look within, to see what changes I needed to make to become healthy, and to then do the work necessary to reach that goal.

Since then, I’ve come to realize it’s possible that those two mental health professionals were correct, for I had written in great detail about many of the abusive acts I experienced. I recorded the events themselves, from my perspective; I wrote about my abuser’s words and actions; and I painfully recounted those of my own. I wrote candidly about the part I had played—or thought I had played—in my own abuse. I wrote from the heart about how it felt at the time to be a victim.

As a result, those journals became valuable tools in my healing. First and foremost, they provided clarity, for I could compare what my abuser told me, with what I knew to be truth—and that helped me to stay grounded.

Second, as I tried to make sense of my life, I would search through the pages for accounts I thought I remembered—only to find that they had been recorded much differently than I recalled. If I even could recall them. In some cases, entire events had disappeared from my mind, only to come flooding back upon reading what I had written in those spiral notebooks.

Finally, over the years, I started to write Sister of Silence—as a way to help others not just understand—but to act differently. As I consulted those journals for research purposes, I began to process what had happened, and this helped with my personal healing.

I first spoke out in public about my abuse in 1999, to a small group of strangers in California. But I began speaking out publicly in earnest, in West Virginia in 2003. That was eight years ago. In the interim, I’ve freed myself from almost every painful memory I remember. It’s as if, by speaking out, I gave myself permission to let go of the burdens I’d carried around. They literally fell from my shoulders, disappearing into my past as easily as yesterday’s rainstorm disappears into the ground.

Apparently, that's what also happening for many Sister of Silence readers. There is rarely a week that goes by, in which I don't receive an email from someone who tells me they read my book—and see themselves in my story. Sometimes, I'm privileged to experience it in person—as happened at a recent book signing and, earlier, at the conference where I spoke in September. Social workers from all over the country were there, and they lined up to buy my book after I told them about my experience with abuse and survival.

Some of these professionals were older than I am, but they had never told anyone about their abuse—until that day, when they told me. Some of them had tears in their eyes. All of them were grateful that someone was willing to speak out, showing them the way to escape their own silence.

Most recently, I received an email from "Lana," someone I haven't seen since high school. I had no idea what her life was really life, all those years ago, any more than she had about mine. And yet, Lana's email said she wished we had talked more, and opened up to each other back then. "It took your book for me to find me," Lana said.

What that means to me personally is that I gave Lana permission to speak out. And perhaps to understand herself better. To forgive herself. To love herself. By writing about my own life, and my own story, she now realizes it's safe to speak out about what happened to her. Because, you see, there really is safety in numbers. Especially when someone else feels free enough to do it in such a public fashion.

For today’s victims of child sexual abuse—be they Penn State victims or victims from anywhere around the country—to do the same, all they need is our collective permission to speak out. I invite Paterno to join me in giving them that permission. For Paterno, as Jeffrey W. Pollard, director of George Mason University counseling and psychological services suggested, could take the lead in granting that permission.

As Pollard says, Paterno can encourage the country to support “those who have been harmed, (which) often involves more courage than standing up to a blitzing all-American linebacker.” Since so many of us—especially Paterno—have done little else for these victims, surely he can do this.

And if Paterno does, I believe he will joined by a groundswell of people who feel free to show their support, too. This can only lead to the profound effect of freeing even more victims from the shadows of silence, so they too can have a chance to fully heal from what must no longer be permitted to continue unabated against children as a secret crime.

Editor's note: If you are a parent and want to protect your children, or if you're a victim who has survived child sexual abuse, please go to Amazon and read the foreword of my book. The foreword alone is well worth your time. If, after reading that, you want to purchase SOS, you have several options: paperback or e-book, direct from Nellie Bly Books, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or even in many bookstores and libraries around the country. (That number is growing by the day. If you can't find it in a bookstore or library near you, just ask them to order it. Libraries, especially, are finding they have a long waiting list for the book, if they only have one copy in distribution.)

That's because a pedophile was allowed to roam the halls of a sacred academic institution, while power and prestige took priority over the plight of the children who were sacrificed to the gods of profit.

Kind of reminds me of the ancient god Molech, to whom parents in Judean times sacrificed their live children on a fiery altar.

When an entire institution turns a blind eye to the plight of a child as young as 10, all for fear of reprisals, loss of power, prestige and—mostly—profits, is it really any different than those pagan worshippers of so long ago? Is it really any better? Should it be any more revered?

The Penn State scandal has left a distinctly bad taste in my mouth. Like most people, I'm sickened that a college football coach, a president, a finance director, and even the grad student who witnessed a small child being raped by a grown man—among other adults who were aware of Sandusky's perverted behavior--would not report such a crime to law enforcement.

In fact, when I tried to take a nap today, I could not erase from my mind the picture of a bigger, older man holding a boy of just 10 captive, while raping him anally. Now, after reading the grand jury testimony, which includes details about how Sandusky "gave Victim 1 a number of gifts, including golf clubs, a computer, gym clothes, dress clothes and cash," as well as "took him to restaurants, swimming at a hotel . . . and to church," I'm reminded of the grooming I experienced as a young girl myself.

My molester didn't create a charity whereby he could have access to "hundreds of boys, many of whom were vulnerable due to their social situations" and which was "dedicated to helping children with absent or dysfunctional families." But he targeted girls from such families, who were equally vulnerable as Sandusky's victims.

When I wrote Sister of Silence, I did so because I wanted to help people understand what this type of crime looks like. I wanted to help protect other children. I also wanted to alert parents as to how they can avoid having their children targeted by these molesters.

The only reason Ken Lanning even agreed to write the book's foreword is because I describe exactly what it feels like to be among the majority of sexual abuse victimizations. That's right: most children are sexually abused just like I was, and just like Sandusky's victims.

How is that, exactly? Well, we were seduced or groomed, and we were complicit in our abuse. That means we took an active role, perhaps enjoying the gifts bestowed upon us, or returning to our abuser, because we craved the attention of a positive role model.

And Lanning, after spending 30 years as an FBI special agent, testifying at hundreds (if not more) of cases that involve child victims, and having written the manuals for the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, says these cases are the norm.

So much for the big, bad stranger in a black trenchcoat lurking behind a tree. (Please see "Parents Beware: Misconceptions about the Natascha Kampusch case all too common.") Most of them instead look like Sandusky: a grandfatherly type, with an easy smile and pleasant personality. That our society continues to hold tight to the myth of stranger-danger is a travesty that permits crimes like Sandusky's to go unnoticed for 30 years. Lanning knows this is common, and he says so in my book's foreword.

Sadly, sometimes even when parents are alert to the danger, as was Victim 6's mother after her son returned from a stint with Sandusky and told her they showered together, when the accused is someone prestigious, an investigation into the crime at hand is only cursory.

Anyone in the law enforcement community with an ounce of commitment toward helping children should have known Sandusky's admission of guilt went far deeper than simply apologizing for a mere shower, or a hug. "I understand. I was wrong. I wish I could get forgiveness. I know I won't get it from you. I wish I were dead," Sandusky told the boy's mother.

Children have become a casualty in today's social climate, where parents are too busy for their child's own good, and where trusted family friends (or coaches or priests or scout leaders) become convenient stand-ins for an overworked or absent parent.

In the past, parents tried to silence their children upon learning of such crimes, usually from a fear of shame coming upon the family name. Today, we stand at a crossroads: society can choose to continue to deny that people like Sandusky wouldn't hurt a child, or people like Paterno wouldn't permit it, and it will just be business as usual.

For its part, Penn State needs to do anything and everything it can to show its moral compass has changed, and it will no longer conduct business as usual. From Cleveland school teacher Rick Shartzer comes this idea about how the institution can do that: "What you permit you promote! Joe Paterno needs to be fired, and if Penn State University doesn't have the humanity and character to cancel this weeks game, then ESPN needs to step up and BLACKOUT the game."

Shartzer got his first wish late last night. But Penn State, which should be held accountable for the huge culpability it has in this matter, due not just for its failure to report these crimes, but because it allowed Sandusky to operate his charity, The Second Mile, from the campus. Let's see if Penn State has the guts to grant Shartzer's second wish.

If it does cancel Saturday's game, the college won't redeem itself entirely. But it can show it has indeed learned something of lasting value from this tragedy. Especially where football is more like a modern-day Molech than a national pastime, and where the mindset is making money at all costs.

Or society—we the people—can remember the legacy we leave behind will cause future generations to judge us harshly, and condemn us for the ignorance, shame and cowardice we so often display, in cases like these.

I don't know about you, but I choose the child. After all, didn't Jesus say "the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these?" Seems like he had his priorities straight. It may be too late for Penn State to learn from him, but it isn't for you and me. The lives of our children—who are, after all, society's greatest asset—depend upon it.

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I’ve been debating whether to make a Netflix-like executive decision: you know, one of those rash, rushed calls that don’t take into account the consequences of one’s actions—be it lost customers or lost profits.

Having reached this decision and without further ado, I am pulling the e-Book version of Sister of Silence from the shelves, so to speak. The company we (Nellie Bly Books, LLC) hired to convert my paperback book into an electronic file so as to be available to the masses has not been able to correct the errors that crept in during the conversion process.

Since I’ve been debating this action for about three weeks now, I’d say mine is less of a Netflix-inspired managerial move, and more like that of Elton Mayo. He’s the Harvard business professor who conducted a worker productivity study at the Western Electric Hawthorne plant in Chicago back in the 1930’s. What Mayo was looking for was whether a change in lighting conditions inside the plant helped, or hurt, employee productivity.

What Mayo found was increased productivity—but it had nothing to do with the lights. Instead, it had everything to do with listening to the employees’ wants, needs and concerns.

The Hawthorne Effect, as it’s come to be called, essentially means this: An organization cannot succeed if it doesn’t listen to its employees (or customers, as the case may be).

We are listening to our customers, because we recognize first, that the customer is always right. Second, we know that without a good, solid, quality product, we cannot sustain the word-of-mouth advertising necessary for our company to succeed. And without our customers, we don’t have a business.

We did not spend 20 years crafting a product that has been edited and proofread dozens of times, and which took a first-place award in a state writing competition, just to see it fall on its face because of a conversion process that renders it hard to read. As readers ourselves, we demand nothing less from a book—be it paperback or electronic—than any other reader would: it must hold one’s attention, it must flow well and the transitions must be smooth and seamless. In its current form, the Sister of Silence e-Book does none of this.

Until we can produce an e-Book that does, please do not purchase any versions of our e-Book until we state here, on this site, that it has our blessing, and is good to go.

The “we” I refer to is mostly me, since I own Nellie Bly Books. But it also refers to the dozens, if not hundreds, of people who have helped me market Sister of Silence by word-of-mouth, by loaning out their own copy, or by dropping off copies at local colleges and libraries, women’s shelters, police stations and hospitals. It certainly refers to anyone who’s spent a dime on an e-Book that contains errors.

If you are one of those customers and you are unhappy, please email your receipt to me showing the date of purchase and the price you paid, and I will happily provide you with your choice of either a PDF copy of Sister of Silence, or one in paperback.

If there is anything I’ve learned from being a reporter, it’s that accuracy is everything. And mediocrity is unacceptable.

Editor's note: Please email me at daleen[dot]berry[at]gmail[dot]com. (My apologies, but the spammers make it necessary to do this.)

If you haven't yet done so, but you'd love to read the book, you can buy it here: Nellie Bly Books