Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Amusing myself while filling my writing pen after its annual thorough cleaning, with some pondering on the potentially superstitious nature of a writer's chosen instrument.

 There have been times when I ran out of ink, and I wasn't able to refill my pen, and wanted to continue writing,
 where I have forced myself to use another pen, despite queasy feelings of its unnaturalness and betrayal;

 but I admit that I would do that writing on scrap paper,
 and then properly transcribe it into the manuscript with my true writing instrument as soon as I could.

Is this akin to the athlete who won't play without his lucky socks? Do surgeons insist on using one particular scalpel? A painter's one precious brush? Or is this a special kind of screwy reserved for writers?

1 comment:

Anonymous-9 said...

Messy and tempermental they can be but I love fountain pens too.
Elaine Ash/Anonymous-9