WRITING BEHIND BARS

Encouraging hidden talent in prison. An inspiration for any writer.

In her first few days out of prison, Pauline Smith relishes her freedom and embraces the struggle to adapt to the realities of life on the out.” She reflects on her time inside, focusing on the four very different women she first met in the white prison van.’ 

I still can’t say why I did it. There I was in my little car, sitting outside a prison on a damp afternoon, wondering why and how I came to be sitting there. I almost turned the car around but gritted my teeth and jumped onto the muddy road. 

I felt quite smart. I had wondered what to wear for this interview in prison. I ended up wearing a black suede trouser suit that had served me well in County Durham classrooms and the lecture theatres at Sunderland Polytechnic. 

Having checked in at the gates I was escorted through the prison by a very young man in uniform – a trainee I supposed. Once inside the second gates he became quite chatty, saying it was all right, working in the prison – he had worked in factories and on building sites and this wasn’t so very different. ‘Just one thing. Though,’ he said, lifting his key of his belt yet again, the chain jangling. ‘I think it’s wrong that the women are let to wear their own clothes. It’s different at the man’s prison, the men wear a kind of uniform, like.” 

We finally make our way up a short corridor. He knocks on one of the doors and ushers me inside. So here I am, facing a highly polished table behind which sit three men one in a lounge suit and two in uniform. The man at the centre stands up and smiles. Then, addressing me my name, he asks me to sit down. He has a genial smile. 

Now, 23 years later, I don’t remember much about the interview itself. It was quite easy to answer their questions about me and my experiences so far. In the end the governor asked me if I had any questions. 

“Yes,” I said. “What will surprise me about working here?” 

The men exchanged glances and smiled. “The laughter,” he said. “That might just surprise you.” 

In time I got used to the clanging doors and the jangling keys. And I relished the laughter. I met many of the women and learned a lot. They were spread across a wide age range from eighteen to forty-five many of whom you might meet in any social or family group “on the out” as they would say. Often in the groups there was the buzz of women’s voices. They certainly liked to tell stories and to talk. And, in time they quite liked to talk to me. 

At the very beginning I made one rule for myself that was not to ask why they were there. It is a frequent question asked by outsiders coming into prison. However, it was against my principles to label any person by their offence. I would get to know them through our conversations and through their writing and their unique personalities.

My title was Writer in Residence. However, funded by an outside agency, I was not on the prison education staff, which gave me a kind of freedom.

In time we did many things. It was an intensely busy time. Normally we worked inside the library but sometimes in the common space on the wing. The library was very pleasant -just like any library. As readers here know I love any library - familiar ground for me.

We talked, we told each other stories, and, shared bits and pieces about ourselves. We shared stories which touched on family background and neighbourhoods. I was impressed by the grasp of language among this group of women and how it worked for our purposes of reading and writing and the telling of the stories. 

The women would share their own work in print. Some very inspired stuff.

We assembled and published several collection the women’s work. It was always a joy to see it assembled between covers. The first one was called “Why am I Running?” after the title of a poem by a charismatic young woman whom I will call K. She was a keen writer and a very good talker. There was this memorable morning when I was making my way into prison while K was making her way out of prison a plastic carrier swinging from her hands – her worldly goods I should think. I stopped the car and said, ‘Hi, K. How’re you feeling? She grins her wide grin. ‘I’m buzzin’, Miss. I’m buzzin’.’ 

As well as the publishing their writing we had a performance of writing by the women, attended by invited members of the public. The writers read their own work with style, and I was very proud of them. 

We also read books – their recommendations and mine. One year we read books from the Orange Prize short-list. We discussed them and voted on our own prize-winner. One time our group ended up entertaining one of the Orange judges as a guest of the prison. She came with a personal assistant and a pile of books but was only barely interested in their opinions or the women’s opinions.

The event was seen in the prison as a festive afternoon complete with afternoon tea in the library. The governor made sure we had tea and cakes and nice plates. 

The visitor gave a us lot of information about herself and made sure the women had a copy of her book, handed out by our assistant. Perhaps by accident, she confided that she hadn’t really read every book on the list. My writers exchanged glances! 

The visitor was clearly in a hurry. She turned down a great opportunity when a senior member of staff offered to show her around the prison, A great privilege in anyone’s book. But anyway, she hurried off, her assistant trailing behind her. 

My writers proved to be nothing if not judgemental. N. the youngest member of the group shrugged and commented, “She didn’t even stay for cakes!” 

It was 2015 before I had digested the experience and published my novel ‘Paulie’s Web.’ which finally emerged from my life enhancing experience with these inspiring women. In telling Paulie’s story I found myself reflecting on my experience in the prison with these very interesting, often talented women of various ages from several cultures. 

Paulie’s Web, is pure fiction of course. However, as readers of this Substack will know, I believe that interactive experience and a story telling memory is a very significant aspect of creating authentic fiction.

Cover copy.

‘Queenie is an old bag lady who sees giants and angels. Maritza disguises her pain with an ultra-conventional life. Drug addict Lilah is a spoiled apple of her mother’s eye. Then there is tragic abused Christine – the one with the real stars inside and out. The touching stories of these women merge as Paulie, after six years, goes looking for them. The others have been free for some years now, and Paulie needs to find these significant friends to begin her own life again.’ 

Paulie’s Web is available here.

Avril Joy (See Author’s note below) added: Thank you for reminding me of all that was good about our time together in the prison. Your residency, which I think became the longest ever, was a definite highlight for me, but especially for the women. They loved and treasured their work and their interaction with you. It was a testament to the power of the arts in prison, and to the outsider, in this case, you the author, coming in with grace and sensitivity offering the women the opportunity to be creative and to develop new self belief and self respect.

Author’s note:

My special experience in this prison was enhanced and enabled by Avril Joy, then a senior manager in the prison and now a much-admired novelist in her own right. With five novels under her belt, she has just celebrated the publication of her new novel The Silent Women - a phenomenal novel about – among other themes - women in a nineteenth century asylum. Shades of past experiences fill my mind. 

Now, of course, she is my dear friend. 

Coming up…

Next week read about Cruelty Games, the story of a lost boy, springing out of my experience in schools working with pupils who soldiered on under great difficulty, walking the line between violence and normalcy every day.