This excerpt is the perfect epigraph for Moyers' memoir--a grippingly honest account of one man's descent into the hell of drug and alcohol addiction, his failed attempts to get clean and sober, and the spiritual awakening that saved his life. Until he learned to "get out of God's way," he could not let the truth of the Twelve Steps and the wisdom of its followers seep into his cracked and broken heart and finally take hold. As he put it in a letter to his wife dated Oct. 13, 2005:

"Eleven years ago yesterday, I finally understood what recovery was all about. Sitting still, experiencing the pain, anger, fear, sadness, joy, freedom, and peace. Not on my agenda or my timelines. It only happened to me when I stopped trying to make it happen, when I gave up looking for it and allowed recovery to find me..."

'It is easier to be honest'
Some might call Moyers book courageous, but he doesn't see it that way. "Maybe it's because I lived with such secrets and shame for so long, I feel it is easier to be honest. It's easier to be in the light than in the shadows," he said.

Moyers not only lived in the shadows of crack cocaine and alcohol addictions, he lived in the shadows of his father, Bill Moyers, a revered broadcast journalist whom William admires enormously. When William got arrested in his early 20s, the event made national news. And, in 1994, it was Bill Moyers who found his son in an Atlanta crack house after a four-day crack cocaine binge that nearly killed William. William has included letters from his father in his book that give a unique texture to his story.

"My father is huge in the book, as many fathers are to sons," said William. "The letters are a testament to a father's love for his son, a father's confusion with his son, and ultimately, a father's satisfaction with his son."

Moyers said his mother, Judith Moyers, played an equally important role in his recovery and that she continues to be an active supporter of Hazelden as well, currently serving as vice chair of the Hazelden New York Board of Directors. His appreciation of both parents shines through in the book's dedication: "To my mother and father, who have made the journey with me every step of the way,"

As memoirist Annie Dillard emphasizes, the best memoirs forge their own forms as the writer decides two crucial things: what to put in and what to leave out. In Broken, Moyers lets readers see how addiction can be a more powerful influence than an idyllic and privileged childhood, a good education, a promising career as a journalist and writer for CNN, and loving parents, wife, and children. By reading his personal story, readers gain a better understanding of the power of addiction and better appreciate the hope of recovery. He is scrupulous in his own truth telling and includes others' perspectives as well through their letters and recollections. "With story telling comes accountability and with accountability comes responsibility."

Breaking anonymity
Contrary to his previous practices, Moyers now breaks anonymity by talking about Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) in his book. "I had to reveal I'm in AA because to do otherwise would be a lie, and this book is the truth," he explained. "Not talking about my program of recovery would be like a marathon runner not talking about training. Although I'm breaking my anonymity, I protect the anonymity and confidentiality of others in the program. This is everybody's story: the still-suffering alcoholic, recovering people and families, and, hopefully, those who don't have a clue about my disease. I wrote this book to help smash the stigma of addiction and carry the message."

A big part of smashing the stigma of addiction comes with getting people to accept addiction as a disease like cancer. Six years ago, Moyers was diagnosed with skin cancer, so he can speak intimately about both diseases. "Both diseases are chronic, progressive, and life-threatening. Nobody deserves to get either one. Continuing care is an essential part of treatment, and reoccurrence of the disease is always a possibility. Yet public attitudes toward the victims of these diseases are as different as night and day. . . . Why is addiction the only disease without a ribbon of hope to wear out in public?" he writes.

Moyers also writes honestly about his stays at Hazelden in 1989 and 1991 and his subsequent relapses. Since he now serves as the vice president of external affairs at Hazelden, he anticipates some reaction to this piece of history. "I didn't get sober here, so I'm not a billboard for Hazelden. I got sober in Atlanta. It isn't treatment that keeps us sober, it's recovery. I didn't allow Hazelden to work, although Hazelden planted seeds that sprouted despite me."

To carry the message
Moyers said he hopes his credibility lies not just in the telling of his story but from his experience of working in the field for over a decade. "I've been sober for 12 years. This is my own story but my story in the perspective of the place I work. I have 'been there and done that,' but I've done it from the unique viewpoint of the Hazelden Foundation. I know the realities of addiction in America. This morning I received a voice mail from a woman who heard me speak six years ago in St. Louis asking for help for her son who is addicted to crack cocaine. She's not interested in me as an author. I'll encourage her to have her son call me so I can offer experience, strength and hope. I'll tell him if I can do it, he can do it. Dan Anderson said it was Hazelden's responsibility to educate every generation. I believe this book is in the spirit of Anderson and of Hazelden."

--by Cynthia Orange

Published in The Voice, Summer 2006