Michael Santos came to give a presentation at the camp at Thomson in mid-2023 to promote the launch of his program, Preparing for Success After Prison. The story he told about his travels through the system was powerful. From a USP all the way down to a camp, he had been through the wringer, but looked none the worse for wear. When he attributed his success in part to writing, he got my attention. As a writer and believer in the multi-faceted power of the pen, Michael’s story resonated with me and affirmed that I was on the right track with my own prison journey.
My first exposure to the value of putting pen to paper came through my spiritual tradition in recovery from substance abuse. My mentor explained that I had pinballs of thought bouncing around in my mind, causing confusion and chaos, and that putting them down on paper would bring me clarity and relief. From that point, I became a regular user of a journal.
In my business career managing consumer products brands and small companies, my writing skills developed as I engaged in both internal and external communications. Moving beyond journaling in the business setting, I learned the importance of audience analysis, targeting of my messages, and gathering feedback for increasing effectiveness.
I grew up playing competitive golf and caddying. It was a huge part of my life until I went to college at the University of Illinois, at which point I quit for 20 years. Upon returning to the game in 2012, it occurred to me that it might be fun to document my reconnection on a blog. When I shared my out-of-the-blue plan with my wife, she gave me a loving smile and encouragement. At the time I figured that she would be the entirety of my audience. That was a major underestimation of the connective power of passionate expression.
I named my website GeekedOnGolf and it didn’t take long for its scope to evolve and broaden. I began writing about golf architecture and travel, leading to new relationships and opportunities for adventure. I also documented the progress of a campaign to revitalize a community golf course, Canal Shores, in which I had become deeply involved as a volunteer. My writing on Canal Shores helped our volunteer crew to vet ideas, celebrate progress, and recruit support.
It was during the early days of GeekedOnGolf.com that my prosecution began. Having a creative outlet during such a stressful time was tremendously beneficial to my well-being. It also permitted me to present who I was as an alternative narrative online to the story that prosecutors were attempting to promote. They called me a kingpin with ties to Hezbollah. Those who knew me and followed my writing saw through such absurd claims because I was living transparently. My actions, backed up by robust communication, took away the government’s ability to define me in my community.
GeekedOnGolf also created an opportunity for writing to become more than a hobby. I collaborated on numerous golf course profiles with a photographer friend and one of those profiles caught the attention of a club president in New York. We were hired to create a book for the club, allowing me to add “published author” to my resume.
I wasn’t sure what role writing would play in my life while I was in prison. Friends and family were urging me to write a book about my experience in the criminal justice system. That was a possibility. I also knew that I wanted to stay connected to my loved ones and I was prepared to go to any lengths necessary with correspondence to maintain my many treasured relationships.
My first 16 days of imprisonment were spent in solitary confinement in the USP for COVID quarantine. This was a shock as nobody had told me or my family that I wouldn’t be going directly to the camp. I was completely cut off from my wife and stressed about how worried she must have been. Once again, pen and paper came to the rescue. I spent hours each day documenting the conditions in a quarantine journal, as well as downloading every detail of my prosecution that I could recall. The book project was underway.
When I finally made it to the camp, my wife and family wanted to know everything about what happened. Instead of retelling the story repeatedly, I decided to send the journal home to be typed and emailed out to a communication list that we compiled prior to my surrender. Several of my fellow campers inquired about what I was up to when they saw me recopying my notes. They cautioned me against writing about my experiences due to the culture of opacity and retaliation within the BOP. I felt that the risk to me was outweighed by the need of the people in my life to have their eyes opened to what I had seen and been through. The quarantine journal went out and immediately evoked a strong response ranging from sympathy to outrage. At that point, I resolved to write a monthly recap for as long as my people were willing to keep reading.
The monthly updates quickly proved to be an inadequate vehicle for expressing everything that I was experiencing and learning about the state of Thomson, the BOP, and the American carceral system. I started writing additional topical essays and telling the stories of men who I met at the camp. To their credit, my family and friends were willing to accompany me in the process of mutual awareness expansion. Their feedback motivated me to keep sharing. My observations have now found their way into the hands of high-level BOP officials and members of Congress, and my voice has been added to the chorus advocating for systemic change.
Some topics were too big to cover in single essays and I began to experiment with multi-part series. One of these serials explored the intertwining of the role of the game of golf with my journey through the criminal justice system. I constructed a portion of a golf course at the camp, proposed a turf management vocational training program, and managed to get a How to Play Golf class approved and funded through the recreation department. I told the story of how staying connected to the game and attempting to expose my fellow campers to its many benefits provided me with purpose and inspiration.
An editor of The Golfers Journal was made aware of my story and worked with me to publish it. My piece, named Yard Golf in issue #25, went on to win the Coyne Prize for writing in 2023. The power of the pen not only strengthened my connections to people beyond the prison fence, it also made it possible for me to add “award winning writer” to my CV.
The craft of writing is now a solid part of my routine. If a day goes by without putting pen to paper on sending correspondence, writing an update, or drafting my next essay, I feel like something’s missing. I have also studied the art of writing from authors like Lamott, Hart, and Zinsser in a continuous improvement effort to honor those who spend their valuable time reading my words.
Michael’s book, Earning Freedom, with its emphasis on writing, has finally motivated me to take advantage of his Prison Professors Talent platform as an additional outlet for my stories and reflections. I am committed to regular contributions, and it seemed that writing about writing would be a natural place to start. I know that the exercise will benefit me and may even result in new connections or unforeseen opportunities. And if I can help Michael and his team change perceptions about incarcerated men and women, all the better.
Writing has enriched my life’s journey beyond all expectations, including giving meaning and purpose to my incarceration. It has brought wonderful people into my life and deepened every one of my relationship. But at its score, writing is still about the same thing it was when I cracked open my first journal.
One of my favorite authors and thinkers, Parker Palmer, summed it up well when he wrote in On the Brink of Everything:
“For many years, writing has been one of my ways of collaborating with life. For me, writing is not about filling my head with ideas, then downloading them to the page. That’s not writing; it’s typing. Writing is an unfolding of what’s going on inside me as I talk to myself on a pad of paper or computer, a version of talk therapy that requires neither an appointment nor a fee.”
The pinballs in my head may be different and healthier than they were 20 years ago, but they are still bouncing around. By putting pen to paper, I can put those thoughts to use instead of having them drive me nuts.
