Being a writer is weird.

You take thoughts and turn them into words which become phrases and paragraphs and articles and sometimes books.

You’re literally creating something from nothing.

Except it’s not nothing. It’s experiences and imagination; it’s past present and future. Things we do, see, feel, imagine all feed the beast. This beast needs articulation. It needs a voice. It needs words, which become etc. etc.

And you know what? It feels like magic. It IS magic.

So this writer needed a magic wand.

As a birthday present to myself, I decided I needed a new pen. Not just any pen. A RAINBOW FOUNTAIN PEN.

Yes, I squeeed when I saw that beauty. Then I added purple ink refill cartridges and refreshed the tracking code repeatedly until they appeared on my doorstep.

I’ve had that baby a week and I’m already on my second cartridge. What can I say?

Apparently, a lot!

There’s something about pen to paper that feels permanent. (Probably because it is. You can’t simply delete, because even erasers and Whiteout leave remnants.) I know the brain processes information better when you write physical notes. There’s a tactile experience that can’t be replicated by a keyboard. It’s more intentional.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m a typer. I don’t write my stories longhand. For one, I’m too impatient, and I can type way faster than I can write. For another, the idea of writing in one form and then transcribing feels too much like duplication, although I know some writers use it as a form of revising.

Will this pen make me a better writer?

Yes.

Not the pen itself, of course. A better car doesn’t make you a better driver. A fancier camera doesn’t make you a better photographer, although your pictures might look better.

But this pen is pure joy to hold in my hands. It’s a pleasure to feel the ink flow. Seeing my words take shape in that pretty purple ink that darkens as it dries gives me a thrill, and all of that makes me want to write more and more and more.

And that is what will make me - is making me - a better writer. When the act of doing brings as much or more pleasure as the status of having done, my desire to act increases.

Practice makes perfect, as they say.

I know my writing will never be perfect, and I’ve often said I don’t want it to be, because that would be boring. I love the challenge. I love the learning. I can never rest on my laurels because there’s always another level.

And there are always, always more stories. More words.

More magic.

What’s your “magic wand?”

I’m going to go wield mine. Until next time…

Happy reading!

Theresa