The Perfect Pen
Someone who does quantities of writing might have had the same dilemma I have experienced. All of the documentation required of me in my professional life was done by hand. I suppose that now such documentation for most jobs is recorded into a computer. I, too, have experimented with a keyboard in my own writing and have become almost paralyzed at times trying to decide how best to do it: should I drag a pen along a piece of paper or should I sit before a screen and watch all the words flow silently onto the blank page? Should I use a computer (we still refer to keyboarding as writing) to divulge to my secret journals all the longings and disappointments of my heart or should I hover over the page with pen in hand and let the tears drip and warp? If I am convinced that what I write should last for a very long time, then what pen should I pick to do that? If the paper is too thick and the pen point too fine, then the words will fade or appear anemic. If the paper is thin and the ink in the fountain pen is too copious, then every word on the page will spread and the backside of the paper will become a palimpsest of sorts and useless for recording additional thoughts.
In some cases, the pen selected is the one that forms the crispest letters and allows words to be compacted or spread out along the line. Ball point pens ask for a firmer grip and heavier leaning onto the paper. Ball point pens are easily rotated or held unconventionally by the hand with a uniform line emerging from the tip. Fountain pens, on the other hand, are notoriously finicky about their loyalty to their original master, having been formed by an individual's hand pressure and angle of writing. The nibs on fountain pens inherited by sons from their fathers (or daughters from their mothers) are sharpened in a way that may tear at the paper in the next generation and (who knows?) revive resentments of a difficult childhood. Managing such a great burden may mean that perfectly good tools may get discarded along with fond memories of an otherwise demanding dad.
The choice of ink may also be how one expresses the deepest thoughts and the most felicitous sentiments. What do brown or green ink connote? Should one take a chance on "cocoa" or "indigo" or "sage"? Writing snobs say that a bottle of ink should be discarded after a year so as not to clog the point of the pen. On the other hand, ball point refills never seem to run out, leaving one with the difficult decision about whether to replace early (how do you know?) when a writing project requires consistency. And, if one is conservation minded, should refills be thrown out before they have run out, just because one now wants black instead of blue?
I don't suppose it needs to be a matter of either/or but could be both/and when it comes to choosing a writing tool. One could prefer a fountain pen for those rare thank-you notes or for the letter that sails from the heart and binds one soul to another. The ball point pen might be the best tool for a father when writing his homesick daughter away from home for the first time, hoping that his nearly illegible writing will comfort her and not deepen her loneliness. The keyboard might serve better for the note that says you don't want to talk about it. In these rushed and frantic times, the fountain pen is the best reminder to slow down thinking and reacting and to foster slower responses. Writing in general is the antidote to prolonged screen times that so many of us now indulge. Writing one another forms bridges and useful connections. Handwriting implies slower and deeper reading. There are more lines to read between and greater space for it. Writing carries intention and thoughtful writing pulls from us our better selves as we make gestures of connection with others.
I think of how daunting other writers have found the blank page. It is less a potential space with limitless possibilities than it is a millstone. Perhaps one has selected the wrong tool for this writing. Perhaps the writer hasn't considered how we can be completed by what we write. Marrying intention with acceptance of one's own small efforts can often lead to a process of growth and maturation. Perhaps we are too afraid of trusting ourselves to create new and lasting ideas. Yes, mindfulness can center us in our deepest and most noble thoughts.
It is worth considering all of these things when writing. One needn't become paralyzed attempting to make writing a perfect effort. One only needs to want to connect the inner life with ordinary life. And it is possible that the most perfect pen for you is actually a pencil.
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