Monday, July 14, 2014
Cheap Notebooks, Nice Pens: A Writing Life
But when I need to write, must write, have to write or I might burst from holding words inside, I always reach for paper and pen.
I'm not particular about the paper, a cheap notebook will do. (For this reason alone back-to-school sales are like early Christmas. Notebooks for $0.17? Yes, please, I'll have them ALL.)
I am choosy about the pen. I prefer Pilot G-2s (since my budget doesn't reach to the truly nice pens). These pens have smoothly flowing ink and fine points, but not too fine, since a scratchy pen is an abomination.
When words are simply demanding to be written, I'll use whatever is at hand (markers, sharpies, colored pencils, crayons in truly dire circumstances) but if I can choose, I take up a pen.
I guard them jealously. My daughters like to take them, using them for intricate pen drawings or cartoons drawn on pilfered printer paper. "Where's my pen?!" is a common cry around our home, since my husband is equally jealous over his pens.
Why do I write when I may never be known for it or receive any acclaim for it? Why take up the carefully hidden pen and reach for paper again and again? Because I must.
The notebook page is blank. I take my perfect pen - not too heavy, not too plastic, just the write amount of ink - and the words come down with the ink, flowing from a part of my brain I don't even have to think about accessing. It's like a magic agreement between the one true Creator God, my empty paper, my rushing pen, and my brain that must spill out words in order to exist.
I may not ever be a published Author. I may never make any money from the scribblings in my notebooks. Or maybe I will, who can say? But it doesn't really matter anyway. A Writer is someone who wrote today.
And my pen is ready.
picture source: Pixabay