It's the Intermission
A Creative Coffee Break

All those other fountain pens I wrote about are finding their way to new homes. I have a thing about releasing stuff I will not utilize. I’m not using those pens anymore.

I have found the pens I love.

The utilitarian Reform 1745 lead me to Pelikan fountain pens. My new found fountain pen friends waxed on about a Pelikan’s dependability, and smooth operation. First I tried on an M 200, and my pleasure at writing with a fountain pen increased two-fold. No skips on the page; my inky words wholly formed. Then I picked up a M 150, slightly smaller, slimmer, easier to stuff into my jeans pocket, to be my carry-around pen. A great arrangement, I thought.

I was happy for a time. These two fine pens that wrote so well for me, were not as fun to use as my scratchy little Esterbrook SJs, or even the Reform 1745. I thought a lot about three other Pelikans that might fit the, uh you know, bill. All three of these pens have since made their way to me. Amazing how that can happen.

Find the best writing tool is a subjective quest.

Someone offered me a terrific deal on a M 250 in the exact model and color I wanted. This pen provided me the most sensual writing experience yet. One of the other pens I wanted was a vintage Pelikan Tortoise 400, and one made its way to me from a friend’s personal collection. Again, my writing pleasure increased. The last pen was another vintage 400 of the traditional green-striated Pelikan variety. I bought it from a fascinating man, from my home state, who is an acknowledged expert on Pelikan pens. The green Pelikan has become the pen I can’t wait to write with every day.

These three pens in their weight, size, and balance are perfect in my small hands. I look forward to putting pen to paper using them. One at a time of course. The green is the pen at my desk; it is my first choice pen. The brown is at my desk too, holding an alternate ink color to reach for. The amber has become my knock-about pen, that stays in my pocket or my bag when I’m not home.

The pens make me smile when I pick them up. Yet, they do not require much but a little care for their use. I don’t have to think about them in the sense of “how do I get this pen to flow better? why is it skipping? why is it leaking all over my paper? why why why?” I don’t need more than these three Pelikans. So it feels in this moment.

These pens make me feel connected to a tradition of writing that my laptop does not provide. Mind you, I love my Powerbook. It is a great tool that functions well for my writing. While I will not go back to using a typewriter, I miss the sound, smell and feel of one. Re-discovering fountain pens seems to have satisfied that part of me that needs ritual in, and a visceral element to, the act of writing. These pens are a technology so perfect that even one more than 50 years old works beautifully even now.

The three pens that remain: