The Fine Line
This Post
- Is about writing tools
- Deals with a small Internet subculture
- May be one of several posts on this blog used by doctors to diagnose me with OCD
I may have a problem. Consider these facts:
- I spent 10 minutes shopping for a pencil sharpener last weekend.
- I stopped in every office supply, stationary and art store I passed last year trying to find a certain kind of pencil (the Mirado Black Warrior) before settling on a similar type (cedar Dixon Ticonderogas with black finish).
- I can say with confidence that the cedar Ticonderoga is my favorite pencil.
- I once special-ordered pens from Japan because I couldn't find any domestic gel pens with fine enough points.
- When I went shopping for a pencil sharpener, I took pre-sharpened and unsharpened Ticonderogas with me and asked the clerk if I could test a few models.
- I hope to buy some re-issued Blackwing pencils soon.
- *Despite all this, I have mugs full of pencil nibs and nearly dry pens.
I'm looking for the perfect line--the line that covers up my bad handwriting and stays on the paper for decades. There are two artists in my family and I'm always writing things down by hand. I've always loved our supplies: pencils, pens, and papers. But for all the talent in my family, I can't draw a decent line.
My handwriting is horrible. I took a few cartooning classes in college, and I love to draw, but my drawings are pretty basic (this isn't bad, necessarily. I refer you to this book and this book for more about how accuracy isn't always something you want in a cartoon). I've always been looking for the writing implement that will give me the most clarity in my muddled writing and drawing. This has led me to find paper that absorbs just the right amount of ink in the perfect amount of time, pencils that stay sharp and leave black (not gray) lines, and pens with pinhead points.
It's nerdy, unnecessary and foolish. I know the right utensils don't improve the end result, but I've become so used to fine points and dark, un-smudged lines that I don't want anything else. But because my writing and drawings aren't perfectly clear, I keep looking. I read blogs that offer pencil, pen, and paper reviews. Really. Pencil reviews. (1, 2, 3, 4, 5)
Nerdy, unnecessary and foolish it may be, but I'm not willing to call my minor obsession (if there can be such a thing) eccentric, wasteful or pointless. I am a journalist, after all; I write a lot of things down. I need reliable, useful tools. Fortunately, the brand of reporter's notebooks my employer provides have nice paper in them. I carry a pen and pencil with me whenever I go on assignment: the pen is my default, but if I have to move and write or if it's raining or cold, ink won't work and I use the pencil. At home, I have my own supplies.
Besides that, it's fun. It's fun to draw and write for amusement and good materials can inspire their own use. It's a hobby, but an eccentric one.
It's also a problem sometimes. If I don't have the right pen, I tend to not care what I'm putting on the paper. My notes are sloppier than usual, and it's not intentional. It's like the inner child that loves opening a new box of pencils is having a tantrum.
Maybe this is addiction. I'm just lucky mine isn't debilitating or harmful. It's not even that expensive (I can write this stuff off on my taxes, but the $22.75 I spent this year on tools will barely make a dent on my 1040).
I'll end this with a quote from Charles Schulz, who famously bought up every available Speedball C-5 pen nib when he found out the model would be discontinued (he said he would retire when he ran out).
I’m still searching for that wonderful pen line that comes down — when you are drawing Linus standing there, and you start with the pen up near the back of his neck and you bring it down and bring it out, and the pen point fans out a little bit, and you come down here and draw the lines this way for the marks on his sweater and all of that. This is what it’s all about — to get feelings of depth and roundness, and the pen line is the best pen line you can make. That’s what it’s all about. If there’s somebody who is trying to be a cartoonist or thinks he is a cartoonist, and has not discovered the joy of making those perfect pen lines, I think he is robbing himself — or herself — of what it is all about. Because this is what it is! The time you make these wonderful pen lines and make them come alive.
