The Pen Made Me Do It

I tend to talk about writing within a somewhat mystical framework. It's a process which isn't always what you expect it to be and somewhat known for going in directions other than the writer planned. Because of this, I'm only half joking when I talk about Voodoo. Writing longhand, especially, lends itself to a magic.

The other day I got a fountain pen. Then, thinking about my goal this month of writing two new stories, I started working on figuring out what I would write.

"We will write poetry," says the pen.

"But, my goal is to write two new stories. I don't have time to write poetry."

"We. Will. Write. Poetry," the pen insists.

"Hey now, I'm the writer here."

"Yes, but I am how you write. I am a fountain pen with a flat nib, and I have the power to change the very look of the letters you write. Notice how cool 'w's look now."

"Alright, you make a good point there. I still have that goal, though."

"You'll get over it. Besides, your most important goal is to write what comes to you, not to just write according to plan. So, aren't you really more obligated to blow off your writing goals than to meet them?"

"Okay, fine. We'll write poetry." So I pull out one of my recycled school notebooks.

"Um, excuse me."

"Now what?"

"We are not writing on that crappy paper. I'm too good for that garbage, and I don't like white paper, it's much too pedestrian."

"It's the only paper I have."

"No it isn't. You got that pack of parchment style paper two years ago and still have most of it. We are going to write on colored parchment style paper."

"Good lord. Okay, are you happy now?"

"Well, we really ought to have colored ink. This black thing isn't working for me. I'm feeling in a red mood today."

After assembling the necessary supplies, I pack up and head for the library. There's an empty table toward the back of the non-fiction shelves. I sit down and pull out my writing gear. "Right, here goes. Red ink. Tan parchment paper. Poetry."

"Great. Now we're going to write about Vikings."

"What do Vikings have to do with anything? You're kidding, right? I mean, really... Vikings?"

"Vikings," the pen insists. "And put one in a coffee shop."