It's true. My Muse likes fountain pens. Really. In an age of high tech, the Muse I meet prefers real pens, real ink in a bottle, and a feed system based on capillary action. I've come to accept reality. My Muse is just sooooo 19th, well all right, 20th Century. I am my Muse, and not. Whatever lets the Muse speaks is the best tool for me.
In fact, I've been literally (and literately) accused of being ever so last century for reasons other than choice of writing equipment. There are huge advantages to a slower means of writing, not the least of it being handwriting generates one copy only. My Muse prefers a rough drafts, real letters sent by post, notes, memos, and assorted labeling matters done in the old fashioned paper and ink mode.
I've yet to find a laptop that survives a reading session in a tub filled with bubbles of wonderfully smelly stuff. It must be the water.
But this is about the writing. This is about the communication with people, not necessarily with machines. Machines, such as computers are tools.
Some tools work better than others.
Sometimes if you rush, you miss meeting a Muse. I think of my Muse as terrifically fond of real ink pens. Bottles filled with colorful potions bearing labels of "WidowMaker", "Bouton D'Or" or "Prussian Blue" are lined up in the ink bottle tray. Each color fits a mood, or fits a pen.
Now, don't get me wrong. My Muse also views computers and electronic wizardry as wonderful. Even the lowly ballpoint pens are good tools, when necessary. I avoid purchase of those mass produced, use, lose and forget-'em ball points. There are plenty of them available if you keep your eyes open. Check the bus stop. You'll average one a week if you're looking.
Typewriters allowed authors avoid the ignomy of being dismissed for poor penmanship. Then computers made writing faster and easier to send 'round the world. But in that speed, that rush, the still small voice of the Muse is harried, or may be missed entirely.
For those times, there is nothing like a fountain pen. At least for me. And they can be outrageously inexpensive at garage sales, back to school promotions and online. Try any search engine, like Google and thousands of fountain pens appear with enticing marketing and prices from a dollar to thousands.
Don't worry though about the Muse getting too pricey to afford. In fact, purchasing fountain pens is sometimes not necessary at all. I found a Parker 51 rolling about on the Chicago El. That pen, a workhorse, has a very smooth nib, holds a lot of ink, and is one of the best "purchases" I've ever made. (Hey, it cost $1.50 for the ride!)
The Muse here never makes a nasty comment about pen or any writing instrument. I like what I like. You like what you like. Personally I am sort of wondering about the rock table/hammer and chisel folks, but to each--his, her, or its own.
Fair warning. Founatin pens might be a problem for certain people with addictive personality. For them, there is the Fountain Pen Twelve Step Program. That is a program where you purchase 12 fountain pens along with appropriate inks, papers and the whole shebang. Then repeat the process as many times as possible until you achieve "pen-ury".
Fountain pen collectors can be just as addicted as watch collectors, art collectors, violin collectors or any "collectors". Check out The Fountain Pen Network for more information.
But this is about finding your Muse. And this post is about finding your Muse through using a tool. If your search for your Muse has hit a wall of sorts, try an equipment change. Refit the tool belt. Sign onto the technology that works best for you. I know a writer who photographs blackboards, filled with chalky writing, and then washes the board, and starts again. It's a far more certain process with the advent of digital photography and the instant ability to see the picture does hold the entire writing before the erasing and starting over begins.
Whatever.
Any tool for finding your Muse might be addictive. You might be addicted to the process of finding your Muse. For me, there is a Siren in that ink holder, fitted with nib, feed mechanism and some literature in liquid form.
The cause of my addictive disorder is "Pendora's Bottle". It is a creature akin to Pandora's Box. When you open your first bottle of fountain pen ink, the powers of the "Gotta Have More" Fountain Pen Genie is released. Stand too close (anywhere less than 50 feet) and you're on the path to a Membership Card in that fountain pen Twelve Step Program, or just a bunch of wonderful pens and a staggering array of inks very soon.
(Don't worry. Your membership documents will be done up in lovely calligraphy, with a real ink pen, colorfully done, and in your own handwriting to boot.) Sure, the method of writing with a fountain pen is very old school. Yet it is a means of communication that makes writing more about the process, the thought, the beauty of putting the words into concrete form. There is ceremony to writing with a fountain pen. A pen is a small thing in so many ways, yet it is a gateway into the world of words, ideas and thoughts.
My Muse is addicted to fountain pens. Yours might be hooked on ever faster processing speeds with WiFi availability. Step One, admit the problem -- done.
Muses tend to work with the tools that work best for us. A pen may be a work of art in its own right and a way to slow down and allow your Muse to be heard. It is a vehicle for expression that demands respect from the writer. It may be last century technology, but in the short time we humans have been writing, it is one of the few tools we have that allows us to record our thoughts with nothing more than a piece of paper and a pen in our possession. The fountain pen, that addictive mechanism of tubes and nib, allows us to quiet the hustle and bustle and hear, listen, to that small voice inside that speaks, often slowly, to make the Muse heard.
No extras required -- no 'links', no software, no electricity, no nothing. Just a pen and piece of paper. And the process. And the opportunity to meet your Muse that might just work at the speed of handwriting.
As I said. To each, his, hers or whatever. Find the tool that works today, perhaps change tools tomorrow. Just meet your Muse. And listen.
Hmmm. Where'd I put the Brilliant Black? Or is it Prussian Blue day? It's time for a little exploration of the certain tool I need today in the world of my Muse.
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