Baring your soul in public requires courage and a strong sense of self-worth. Casey Morley had not much of the first and none of the latter when she began writing her story, longhand, on a yellow legal pad. What drove her to commit word to paper was determination−to break the cycle of abuse and domestic 
violence she had lived for 50+ years, and to try to make a better life for her young son, Michael.
I did not come to the process until several years later when the script on the pile of legal pads was transcribed to a computer file. By that time, I’d known Casey for about 20 years and considered her a casual friend. When she asked me to edit her manuscript, all I think I asked her was, “Are you sure?” I’m known to have a heavy hand with the red pen.
Sure enough, that’s how my part of this adventure began. But I quickly realized that what made Casey’s painful story so easy to read was her voice, the tone with which she wrote. It’s as if you and she are sharing a cup of coffee and she’s relating her story. The red pen had very little place here.
Casey and I worked for about three years polishing the book. During that time, we shed tears beyond imagination, shared grief, bolstered each other. I watched Casey move through the cycle of growth as she read the book to me, page by page, many times, as I edited on the computer, asked questions, brought out more stories.
Casey progressed from barely able to speak because of the tears, to anger, to acceptance, to moving on. Where she initially had no self-worth, now she holds her head up high and proud. Courage is an innate part of her as she relies on her strong spirituality and sense of right and wrong to call attention to the horrors that are abuse and domestic violence. Working to curb those horrors is her goal.
Crawling Out tells of a life no one should ever experience. Casey did. Casey survived. Casey thrives in her new life. I’m proud to call her my dear friend, my sister.
This post brought to you by, Nancy Hooper, Editor Newington, Connecticut
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