Ink

When I was a writing tutor (yes, that was my job in one of my past lives) I learned that one way to help people get over writer's block is to try different ways of writing. Instead of writing on your computer, grab a pen and write longhand. Or turn off your screen and type. (I use this one sometimes - it prevents you from constantly rewriting and forces you to just produce words.) My favorite way to write is with a fountain pen. Ahh, the smoothly flowing ink. The physical beauty of the words gives the illusion of well-crafted writing. That's an ego boost I can use.

Andrew bought me a fountain pen for Christmas last year. And I loved it. I wrote letters and drafts and checks. I carried it everywhere, until I lost it. All the wailing (and searching of the lost-and-found) did not effect its return, and we bought a replacement. But because I was so mad at myself for losing the first, rather pricey, pen, we got a more thriftily priced stainless steel nib instead of the gold nib. It was horrible. (I mean, it was no global economic downturn, but by golly the scratchiness and blots were outrageous.) So this Christmas Andrew bought me this pen, the Falcon. I used it this week and my life is once again delightful. I hope it will produce many, many pages of brilliant prose, which will handily fill my need for a dissertation. Surely a beautiful pen will help me produce beautiful research?