When I sat down to write Lie Still, I had no idea that the first sentence Emily spoke would be about a rape in college that haunts her. I didn’t know that this book would take me to uncomfortable places inside myself. That I would learn how much “date rape” or “acquaintance rape” is misunderstood, and how lasting are its effects. As I was putting the finishing touches on this book, two Congressional candidates confirmed that wild misperceptions about this crime are still alive, one by suggesting that a woman’s body is able to reject a “legitimate rape” pregnancy. I’d like to thank those men for bringing such ignorance about rape to the forefront (and the voters who kept them out of Washington).
Along those lines, my own knowledge was boosted by journalist Tim Madigan, who wrote a three-part series in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram last year debunking the myths of acquaintance rape. I’m also grateful to his sources, who are doing such excellent work in this area: sex crimes expert Russell Strand; University of Massachusetts psychologist and researcher David Lisak; Fort Worth police Sgt. Cheryl Johnson; and Roger Canaff, a former special victims prosecutor in New York and an antiviolence advocate.
A postscript: Clairmont, Texas, does not exist. None of the crazy, diabolical Southern women in this book are based on a real person. Most of the Texas women I know are quite nice, thank you, and don’t go around eating Little Debbie cakes with a rifle riding in the trunk of their cars.