There are people who write in journals with whatever pen is handy.
I do not understand these people. Every journal I’ve ever used has had pens specifically picked to go with them. Pens are an important part of the process, to find the right weight instrument, with the right point size and the right feel while writing.
When I started my current journal, I was trying to use a heavy pen given to me by a dear friend. A few pages in, I realized I’d have to abandon that choice, or I’d give myself carpal tunnel trying to write with it for long chunks of time.
While on vacation, I picked up a souvenir pen from the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum and it was the perfect pen for this journal. Good black ink that wasn’t splotchy and flowed over the paper in a lightweight pen.
It’s important to note that in addition to processing thoughts about life in general, one of my primary uses for my journal is a place to take sermon notes. I learned long ago that I learn things better when I write them down. At some point, it clicked that if I wanted to get more out of a sermon, I needed to take notes.
So, I’m sitting there in my pew (five rows back on the right), taking notes, and my pen dies.
I scribbled on the bulletin. Nothing. Not even a faint line. My pen was dead. Dead, Jim.
The former reporter in me rarely travels without more than one writing utensil, but circumstances were not in my favor this time. I’d been to the symphony Saturday night, carrying just a little wristlet and hadn’t moved things back to a purse for church. No spare pen.
I’ve found a new pen (a PaperMate InkJoy NUMBER) but it’s not the same. Note to self, buy two souvenir pens.