23. I Did It. I Wrote a Book.

My first book, titled When the Moon Turns to Blood, is out today.

Last month, a very heavy box arrived on my front porch. Joe hefted it inside, and took photos as I opened it: it was full of copies of my very first book. 

In one day (or today, depending on when you read this), that book will be in your hands. It’s called When the Moon Turns to Blood. I’ve worked on a lot of really crazy stories, and done a lot of difficult reporting in my day, but let me tell you: this one… this one takes ALL the cake.

The photos Joe took of me while I opened the box are absolutely terrible. Just awful. Completely not okay for public consumption. Because as soon as I realized what was in that box, I broke down sobbing. And so we have some photos of me red-faced, messy hair, dirty overalls from pottery class that day, holding my new book.

The work just hit me all at once. I extracted one copy from the box and we looked it over together like it was a fragile artifact, taking off the dust cover to reveal a black hardbound book with text the color of blood. It is still crazy to me to flip through it, to know that I wrote every single word. It might be obvious to say this, but I’ll say it anyway: writing a book is fucking hard. When I held it, all I could think to myself was, “what an absolutely crazy way to spend one’s time.”

When you hold it in your hands, know that — all in one package — you are holding both my life long dreams and the tragic stories of so many people. It is a wild, complicated story of how two individuals with similarly radical ideas crossed paths, and about the fire that ignited after they met. 

In early 2020, when other people were hunkering down at the start of the pandemic, learning to bake sourdough bread, binging The Wire, watching concerts at home, this was what I was doing. Which probably says a lot about me. It seemed like the world might end, and I figured if that happened, I’d be really unhappy if I hadn’t at least tried to write a book.

But also: I had time. In March 2020, I lost every single bit of work I’d planned for the year. A new podcast went up in smoke, a well-paid speaking engagement fizzled, print pitches I’d sent off seemed to evaporate into thin air. I felt like I was at the top of my career, and somehow was also hitting absolute rock bottom. 

So I figured, fuck it. Maybe I come out of this whole pandemic-thing as an author of books — reborn afterward into the writer I always wanted to be. It seemed crazy at the time, but I knew I had to try.

Luckily, I had an idea for a book I wanted to write. I had already begun reporting on the strange case of Lori Vallow: the Idaho woman whose kids went missing, and then she went missing, and then her husband, too, was gone. It was all so strange. In an early article I read about the case, someone said they thought the disappearance of the family might have something to do with Vallow’s religious beliefs. She was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but people said her beliefs were more “cult-like” — something more fringe and not acceptable to talk about in the mainstream Mormon church. 

My alarm bells went off.

I wondered if Vallow might have believed in the type of religious beliefs I’d encountered while making Bundyville: the fabled “White Horse Prophecy,” or the kind of doomsday faith I’d heard from some of the more prominent characters in the series. And, to an extent, that hunch of mine was right. Before I knew it, I was already tumbling down rabbit hole after rabbit hole, trying to find the bottom of this impossibly strange story. 

At one point, the walls of my office were covered in color-coded notecards and sticky notes — ideas for chapters, important locations, connections to historical events. When I started this project, my book shelves were already brimming with books on Waco and Oklahoma City, but now my office accrued stacks on UFO cults, Heaven’s Gate and new religious movements. To an outsider, my office would not have given off a real “stable” vibe. But it took all of those books, and so much reporting, to understand the world of Lori Vallow and Chad Daybell. 

About once a month as I was writing it, Joe would drop me off with two bags of food and a backpack full of those books at a cabin with no Internet off in the woods, out in the Columbia Gorge. I’d start a fire, put on my “writing sweater” and get to work. It was only there that I could write, distraction free. I would sink into the story for days at a time, stop to make a box of macaroni and cheese, or a bagel, and eat it over my keyboard as I scrolled through my notes.

I know now that I wrote like I was obsessed because, truly, it is a story of obsession. I gave the story what it required. And that’s part of why so many people have been drawn to Vallow’s story: the twists and turns, the hard-to-believe people, the gruesome violence. It’s about what happens when people freak out about the world ending. And it was not lost on me that I wrote this book when that feeling was more pervasive than ever. 

I have said this before, and I will say it again: this book — and all of my work — could not have been written without your support of this newsletter. Paid subscriptions very directly paid for so many public records that were essential to write it. 

So thank you. You’ve helped me achieve something that was very important to me. And I hope I did the story justice. 

A couple of notes: 

- I wrote an essay last week about the book’s dedication to the late, great Bill Morlin. His loss was so sudden, and our friendship meant so much to me. I hope I can help carry his work forward.

- I have a few book tour dates planned, but the dirty secret of book tours is… the author has to pay for them! Boo! Come see me tomorrow at Powell’s in Portland, or at one of these dates (all of which are listed here). I hope to plan more events in the fall, but for now, here’s what’s on the docket. I want to come to your city, so please know I have heeded all previous suggestions left in the comments here, and will try to make those happen: 

June 21: Portland, OR - Powell’s Bookstore, In Conversation with Ryan Haas - 7 pm

July 6: Spokane, WA - Northwest Passages Book Club, Montvale Events Center - 7 pm

July 7: Missoula, MT - Fact & Fiction - 7 pm

July 8: Butte, MT - Isle of Books - 3 pm

August 4: Seattle, WA - Elliott Bay Book Company - 7 pm

- Your future subscriptions will also go to me compensating the great Jule Banville to copy edit this newsletter, because there have been an embarrassing number of typos in the past. Jule did not read this newsletter, and I alone claim full responsibility for the errors herewith.