Pen frustration, pen magic

I love this fat little Uni in burned orange. Is it a gel pen? Is it a rollerball? I’m never sure. It cost a few dollars, has a lovely design, and is imbued with zero expectations of perfection. Here it is together with the Scribo Piuma Ratio (I had no expectations of perfection, but this pen is incredible).

My pen friends just forwarded me a post from r/fountainpens in which user JonathanEdwardsHomie vents about being frustrated with their lineup of 20+ relatively cheap pens. Only a few have been satisfying. The poster reports using fountain pens all the time, writing a lot, and yet they are considering quitting the hobby. I love a chewy post, and so do r/fountainpens users who give variable advice, many to the tune of “replace your twenty cheap pens with one or two more expensive pens” and/or “actually cheap pens can be excellent, these are some of them you should try.”

The heart of the issue, I think, is not there.

u/JonathanEdwardsHomie writes, “It's like, is it even worth this hassle anymore, especially with my perfectionistic tendencies? I came across a comment (either here or somewhere else, can't remember) a while ago that put it perfectly - something to the effect of having to be a scholar in order to buy intelligently and get something good.”

This right here is something I think I can speak about as a recovering perfectionist. I am an actual scholar, and I research the hell out of my pens. I am also very finicky about my pens. I am a finicker. I’m finicky about many things. I am neurodivergent, and this is also a sensory issue. Fabrics need to be natural. Textiles I bond with need to have tight, and/or intricate weaves, and/or feature birds, although I have broken the rules many times for textiles that simply speak to me.

I picked up this small Hmong (I believe) textile with birds at Artifacts in Iowa City. The pen is my Montegrappa Miya with yellow celluloid.

I love leather, but it has to be made a certain way. I paid extra to have a Hobonichi leather cover made by Orange Leatherworks because the stitches align perfectly, and yet everything is handmade, and when I got this cover, it just sang. It had artistry and soul and precision. I get more writing done, and more work done, using my A6 journal in the Orange Leatherworks cover.

Orange Leatherworks cover for a Hobonichi A6. I ran out of my day-free and am using an Oasis notebook until the end of the year. Pens are my currently inked Leonardo Momento Magico and Edison Menlo Fingerpaints.

I could have gotten a cheaper cover with crooked stitches or too-thick leather, and it would aggravate me every single day. One cover was perfect, but the feeling of leather was a bit overwaxed. No matter how I tried to get used to it, I could not, so I sold it. Another cover was gorgeous, but had puffy edges — I am looking at you, Superior Labor. The Labor might be Superior, but the puffy edge situation irritated me every time I opened my notebook. “Get over yourself, RB!” screams a tiny, annoying crowd of people inside my head. “The world is burning and you’re worried about notebooks with puffy edges!”

Folks, it’s never ever about notebooks with puffy edges. It is never about pens where the left tine is just slightly out of alignment, or an underpolished artisan pen which should have been perfect but somehow was not. It’s about what we need, and what we are not getting from this burning world — it’s about anxieties and beauty and self-soothing and sensory delight, it is about building your one oasis of beautiful calm focus and wanting it to support you. It’s about sanctuary. This is why many of us turn to analog. When our oasis of analog does not work like we need it to, it can feel like a betrayal.

Our fountain pens and other stationery items are not just tools. They are artifacts, talismans against an overwhelming and cruel world. Pens can represent self-care and purpose, pens can bring delight and wonder. Pens are magic. That magic can come as a freebie gift, or in shape of a cheap, incredible, damaged antique-store pen, or as a little brass Kaweco and a vial of shimmering ink. That magic can manifest through a perfectly tuned celluliod Omas, or through a sparkly Sailor special edition.

Omas Dama, with a Menagerie friend Turtle.

I got this little Omas Dama in scarlet celluloid from Bryant at Chatterley Luxuries. The pen was uninked but deeply scratched - I am guessing someone carried it around in a pocket with some keys; I got it at a good price. The nib is a perfectly tuned Omas F. It is a delight, even though it is imperfect - scratched, and much smaller than I like.

The magic of analog often feels fragile. A joyous new acquisition can make the world sing, but one whacky nib or poorly executed trim later and the world is again out of tune. Pens are metaphors for bigger things, heavier, scarier things in our lives we might not be able to tackle directly. We turn to art for transcendence and as a shield against overwhelming dread.

I think it’s a beautiful impulse and a testament to human resilience, but no pen alone will mend this burning world, and no pen alone will destroy it. The pen might be mightier than a sword, but both are old technologies. Is your TWSBI Eco mightier than AI, and/or weapons of mass destruction? If it is, I suggest you hold on to it. :) If it isn’t, well, that’s a lot of expectation to attach to a pen. Ask me how I know. :)

Houseplants, books, and Menagerie friends.

Nothing here is “perfect,” but I put my room together together bit by bit, and I love it.

I said, I think, that I’m a recovering perfectionist. I have a small collection, but every single pen helps me fight a battle against despair. Some pens are perfect, others are not, but I developed tenderness anyway. Others were perfect, but did not stay long in the gathering. Despite the magical feeling of them, fountain pens are not an earth-shattering proposition. They are sacred conduits between the soul and the page, and they are also sticks to make ink splatters with. Pens can be a sanctuary, but others get there through pencils, or shoes, or watches, or one hundred million houseplants (guilty as charged). Others do daily walks in the park, run a marathon, volunteer, go on a chai latte tour, or enroll their dog in a grooming competition. When a hobby becomes frustrating, I found that it helps to develop a gentle curiosity about this feeling. What does it mean? What does it really mean?