The Mechanics of Writing

Well, yer just sit down with a pen and paper, innit??

If only…Does every aspiring wordsmith require the precise and perfect conditions in which to create?  The right pen, the sun at the right angle, the correct silence?

The ideas that ferment underneath what finally appear as posts flow quite freely, in any circumstances and in every possible situation. But writing, shepherding these ideas into the corral of a post is far more fragile and transitory enterprise.

My cell is too small to hold both a table and chair simultaneously. Where, how, to place this sub-Turing machine so that I can type without discomfort? How is this in relation to the light, my jug, my tobacco?

This cell receives too little natural light to read or write without discomfort. The light fitting is sited at the rear of the cell, illuminating the toilet beautifully but leaving the rest of the cell bereft. My little lamp is vital, yet restricted by the position of the power socket and the length of its lead. And curse the 'low energy' bulb and its pathetic efforts.

A11 of these are, perhaps, small things. Prison writing has been created in far harsher, literally lethal, circumstances. But tonight I have finally found a working solution that gives me some ease. Sitting at the head of my bed, cross legged, my lamp shining over my left shoulder, coffee and tobacco on the chair at my right hand. The linchpin to this arrangement is something on which to rest my machine. Earlier, I found a cardboard box, previously the home of photocopier paper which I have managed to cut down to a precise height.

My word-processor sits in front of me, lit just right, and at height that is comfortable. I can now write with something approaching ease. Imperfect, but workable. Alas, it is now nearly midnight - the prison is utterly silent, and it is only in these still moments that I appreciate how loud hunt-and-peck typing can be!  And so, having created the ideal writing circumstances, I must stop.

The Future

One of the people involved in my parole hearing has suggested that when I reach Open prison I should stop blogging and focus upon 'resettlement’. He also believes that my blogging at all is "unwise" in terms of progressing through the maze I'm trapped within. As he spent his career in the prison service, his view reflects the official ethos and outlook.

As I perceive it, writing is a powerful route to my being reintegrated into society. Behind the scenes, the blog has led to interesting developments with significant future potential. To stop blogging, then, would be to sever myself from one of the few opportunities that I have to build a future life.

And I'm so looking forward to giving you glimpses into the Through The Looking Glass experience that is open prison... And so, short of illegal interference from the prison service or ministry of justice, I will persist in intruding into your consciousness on a near daily basis!

As for this being unwise... I hope that, no matter what you think of me, the idea that anyone should be hindered on the path to release just because he expresses his opinions is one you find repugnant.

Prison Writers

Along with many other difficult situations, prisons seem to have the potential for fomenting great literature.

Perhaps personal distress and solitude leads to a level of reflection that is difficult to achieve when leading a happy life? It may be that only through suffering can the human conditions be best explored. Or that good writers are invariably miserable buggers.

Yet the canon of prison literature is not a large one, particularly when it is understood that many tens of thousands of people pass through the gates each year.

There used to be extremely strict efforts put in place to prohibit prisoners either writing, or getting the material over the wall. When I began, our only source of paper was either of the toilet variety or official notebooks.

These were essentially old-style school exercise books, with the addition of a list of prohibitions printed on the cover. Most pertinently, we couldn't write about ourselves or prison and, when full, we had to hand in the book in order to get a new one.

This restriction was supplemented by a strict regime of censorship. No letter left (or entered) prison without being read by staff and if they found it objectionable in any way (such as any complaints) then it would be returned to us for re-writing.

Given such restrictions, then, it is amazing that any worthwhile material managed to reach the outside world. And this isn't to consider the panoply of unofficial sanctions that could be levelled against prisoners who managed to evade the official barriers.

Officially, the situation has improved. I have listed the restrictions I must work to and they are hardly onerous and when needed, I will always be quick to challenge the legal status quo.

Today, we can buy our own notebooks and paper and no one cares what we write in them. That said, we have no privacy, our papers are liable to be searched and read by staff at any time. Being slightly circumspect is only sensible.

Censorship has been relaxed in some categories of prison, though I always write with the assumption that staff will be targeting my incoming and outgoing mail. Overall, though, it is far easier to write material and have it reach the outside.

And rather than being restricted in publishing outlets, the advent of the web should give prisoners endless channels for dissemination.

And yet... Where are all the prisoner writers? Even in the pages of our newspaper, Inside Time, the range of writers is not broad. I'm not complaining about this, as it means I get a piece published most months!

Society should be awash with prisoner-generated materials, to an unprecedented extent. That I remain the only prisoner-blogger several months after defeating the Ministry of Justice is a genuine surprise. My ego is pleased for the lack of competition but the campaigner within me deplores this situation.

Prison can be a place of torment. It reveals so much about the individual, with the years grinding away and revealing an inner strength - or weakness - that begs to be explored. It is a nexus of morality, conscience, law and politics that few other situations can offer. So why are there so few prison writers?