Reconnecting with my Handwriting
My handwriting was, as with many people of my generation I imagine, very neat during primary and secondary school. However, ever since computers became the way in which you had to submit written essays at university in 1993, my hand writing has deteriorated significantly. I still use a notebook for work to write down my to-do lists and points to remember - but when I was completely unable to decipher my writing on an important topic recently, I knew things had to change. On top of that, I have been finding it increasingly tiring using screens, and found myself drawn to the idea of using a 'proper' pen and investing in my hand writing again.
Fate intervened when I went to a local craft fair and met Libby Mitchell, who was selling her wonderful plant inks. These are hand foraged and hand made and are utterly beguiling. Even though at that point I did not have a suitable pen for them, I found them irresistible and bought a set. The colours that she has been able to produce are incredible, especially the blue indigo and deep orange onion skin.
Having bought these delightful inks on impulse, I then needed a fountain pen. After some research, I decided to treat myself to Scrivener fountain pen, in aubergine, with a medium nib. It has taken some practice getting used to it. I've had to write somewhat slower - but actually, this has been really good for my handwriting. It has resulted in neater, rounded writing, rather than my usual illegible spikes, and definitely more in keep with how I used to write at school. I've also had to learn to take care of my pen, making sure I do not allow ink to dry up in the nib. The Scrivener fountain pen comes with cartridges - but I chose it specially as it has a screw converter. This allows you to use bottled ink - including the plant inks I bought - and it also means you can mix your own colours of ink, which is really fun.
An unexpected benefit has been that when I write with a fountain pen, I find the process very mindful. I have a terrible habit of clenching my jaw, and I note I do this far less when I am writing by hand with ink. My thoughts flow out, mirroring that of the ink flowing from the pen. As long as I plan a series of points to write about in each section, my words emerge effortlessly.
At the moment, I am using up the paper of this rather ugly tartan notebook I found when cleaning out my parents' house. I thought it was empty - so it was a very emotional sucker punch to discover a (completely banal) note my Dad had made on the back page, most likely in the early 2000s. It was like the past reaching out to me from the paper. It reinforced to me how much of an expression of us our handwriting can be - of the era we grew up in, our schooling, our geography and of course, our physiology.
