Reality of a Prison Writer 6—E.C. Theus Roberts
The best books are those with the best sets of eyes. Fact is, every writer is in love with their work, that is, until they’re not. US scribblers are notoriously partial to our own creative genius. To calm the waters of literary narcissism every writer needs “first readers. Those unfortunate editors, friends and loved ones, writers unabashedly and affectionately torture with early drafts.
In my experience good first readers are the difference between Pat Conroy’s The Prince of Tides and something the writer herself forgets was ever written. If you’re a writer in prison, finding a good first reader is more difficult than finding an iron needle in a stack of steel needles in a dark room.
In prison the usual response is an “oh, I liked it,” and highest regard comes in the form of a “you write well.” For a writer each is about as deflating as the hundredth rejection of your opus magnum.
Writers aren’t so much concerned with opinion of the work’s quality. Constructive criticism is our real objective.
What could improve it? How could it seem more vivid or entertaining? What do unbiased eyes see that my enamored, foggy vision ignores?
For many, if not most, prison writers finding a first reader who can and will view your work critically is a never-ending quest; one generally ending in various degrees of failure. Most incarcerated writers have to play their own devil’s advocate and coldly contemplate the work they so hotly love.
If you take the time, as I do, to consider the limitations and disadvantages facing prison writers; their resilience is something to admire. Their works are something we should pay closer attention to.
