The written word

[feathersandfractals]

Because hypergraphia is a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder, the way it manifests can also be subject to a kind of obsessive-compulsion. In my particular case, one of the ways it manifests is that I’m hugely particular about the tools I use, and every so often those tools are subject to change.

Sometimes it’s deliberate. Hypergraphia doesn’t mean not ever suffering from writer’s block. What it means is that when writer’s block strikes it has side-effects. I learned a long time ago that there are ways to break it. I had to. Writer’s block feels like an infected wound, swelling and throbbing. The only thing that helps is to lance and drain it, and that means finding a way to get the words out of my head. I will change pens, change ink, change paper. If it’s severe I sometimes resort to pencil on loose pages, because somehow the impermanence of it makes it easier to translate the pressure into letters.

It hasn’t been that bad in a long time now, mostly because I’ve found that the combination of moleskine and Bic Cristal Grip biro with a back-up of the faithful old narrow-ruled, feint and margin keeps things flowing nicely enough. The only things I ever start on the computer are blog entries, and even those occasionally begin life as ink on paper.

Still, occasionally the urge comes to change tools, and just recently I found myself obsessing over fountain pens. I’ve always owned fountain pens. I’ve had a collection of coloured inks on my desk for years, from the days when Parker had a brief foray into the more esoteric end of the stationery market and produced a number of beautiful coloured inks in wide-based bottles that resembled ship’s decanters. I have one of each. The emerald is particularly nice, and I also like the ruby. As far as I know these inks are no longer available, and I feel a little sad about that, as I’ve often broken a threatening writer’s block by switching to one of those colours.

Not the sapphire, though. I never got on with the sapphire. There’s something wrong about blue ink, and I can only imagine there is a point where the synaesthesia and the hypergraphia square up to one another on the battlefield and agree to mutual tolerance as long as we don’t go there.

I got it into my head that what I wanted was a good pen. I have a collection of Parker Vectors, and the stainless steel model was what I considered to be my “good pen”. But I have small hands with thumbs that don’t oppose properly, and heavy or thick pens don’t sit comfortably in my grip. I like a light pen with an ultra-fine nib that produces a well-behaved line with no feathering. In the past the only pens I’ve found that will do the job are liquid-ink tech points.

Then I bought a Platinum Carbon, and I’ve been extremely happy with it. So happy, in fact, that I’ve almost run out of the Parker Ebony ink. Unfortunately it is not a pen you can chuck in a bag and forget about, as it is long and slender and has a pointy end. I was still in need of a good quality fountain pen that I could carry around with me.

Rather than taking an expensive gamble on a well-known brand, I followed the recommendation of a fellow cyclist and stationery geek and ordered a couple of Jinhao pens. I also ordered a bottle of Noodler’s Bulletproof ink.

Here, then, is what currently serves to keep my head from exploding in an unnecessary and potentially messy fashion all over the walls, floor and ceiling. Pen, ink and paper. Each is beautiful in its own right, even before it gets as far as contributing to the semiotic sanity-prophylactic that is the written word.

Of course, in looking for a replacement for the Parker Ebony, I discovered an entire new subject on which to turn my obsessive-compulsive tendencies. Ink. I didn’t know it was possible to buy scented varieties. And all those colours! I’m going to need more room on my desk.

Originally published at Singularity. You can comment here or there.

Comments

[thudthwacker.livejournal.com]

Wow, neat. I've always loved things to do with writing -- books, pens, ink. Sadly, I really can't stand *writing*. My writing is slow and sloppy, and the truth is that I'm worlds better at getting words out if I'm typing. And, granted, I have a preferred keyboard (IBM Model M), but it's just not the same as a really nice fountain pen and a Moleskin.

[ravenbait.livejournal.com]

I started writing as soon as I could hold a pencil. Some of my very early stuff is hilarious (I'm talking about 4 yeas old, here). I've been writing so much by hand for so long that the middle finger on my right hand has a permanent deformity in the last joint from the pen resting there.

I'm a competent typist, and can touch-type at around 70 - 80wpm, but there's nothing quite like the feel of nib on paper and the sensation of ink staining cellulose. It's more visceral. It's more like bloodletting.

[tychoish.livejournal.com]

I used to be a huge fountain pen/writing geek, and I've fallen out of the habit/inclination in recent years. I was/am a big fan of Private Reserve midnight blues and namiki vanishing point pens. :)

These days I mostly just use emacs.

[ravenbait.livejournal.com]

I nearly bought some Private Reserve, but I liked the fastness of the Bulletproof Noodler's.

The Namiki Vanishing point, for UK readers, is called the Pilot Capless (http://www.cultpens.com/acatalog/Pilot_Capless_Fountain_Pen.html) over here.

OK. Nerdgasm over.

[tychoish.livejournal.com]

The shame, I suppose, is that I don't really write *anything* aside from my signature longhand anymore. I'm ok with this turn of events, but still.

I used to do a lot of todolist/planning/outlining in notebooks, but I've finally got a digital solution (or set of solutions?) that actually work as good--if not better--which might be a shame (or not, I actually like how I work these days).

[ravenbait.livejournal.com]

I think it's just a matter of what works for you. If you're happy, then it's not a shame.

I get no relief from writing on the keyboard. It feels like I'm waggling my fingers and pixels appear. There isn't the same direct contact between me and the words, I suppose. It's the difference between digital art and painting. For me there is a qualitative difference in the execution. An email is never as personal as a handwritten letter.

It's probably some sort of voodoo or something ;)

[tychoish.livejournal.com]

This is true, certainly. Though to be fair, I'm a much more automatic and natural typist than I am a long-hand writer, and while it's nice to be able to draw arrows between ideas and write various kinds of marginalia, digitally... I think think the inflexibility of the digital is made up for by the long term utility, and the fact that I--personally--can brute force the data entry problem.

At the same time, people are terrible about writing personal email, so while hand written letters are always intimate, emails--even "personal" emails often aren't. That's about the writing process and the way people typically approach the correspondence, rather than anything intrinsic about the potentials of the form.