I have a small but satisfying fountain pen collection. I can’t remember when I first started writing with a fountain pen, but I know it was sometime in college. It began as a bit of amusement that slowly blossomed into an interest and finally into a hobby (I haven’t hit the obsession stage yet, but I’ll let you know when I get there).

I remember my first quality fountain pen I ever owned. It was a beautiful cobalt-blue LAMY Studio that my just-married-to-me wife got me for my 26th birthday. That was the pen that started it all [insert dramatic orchestral music here]. It was so different from the cheap Office Max fountain pens I had used before it. The feel and balance of the pen was superb. The nib glided smoothly across the paper, aided by the satisfying weight of the pen in the hand. It was that pen that hooked me.

From there, my collection began to grow. It was slow at first. Quality fountain pen’s aren’t necessarily inexpensive, although you don’t have to spend a fortune to find a good one. But they’re definitely not what one would call a “necessity,” and because my wife, for some odd reason, believes that both her and I should work together to decide what we spend our money on, my collection has grown slowly over the years. Thus, my current collection includes the following, in the order I acquired them:

• LAMY Studio (cobalt blue)
• LAMY AL-Star (copper orange)
• Pilot Prera (clear, black trim)
• TWSBI Diamond 580 (clear, copper orange trim)
• TWSBI Precision (gunmetal grey)
• TWSBI Vac 700 R (clear, black trim)

You can probably tell from this list my favorite color and my favorite pen manufacturer. I’ll find out from the email responses who guesses correctly.

The real question behind this pen collection is simple: Why? Why do I like to write with a fountain pen? Why don’t I just scribble stuff down with a Bic like everyone else? Well, sometimes I do. But really, the answer is more complex than that.

I think, first of all, that my interest in pens and handwriting comes first from the legacy of my family. My mom has beautiful penmanship. If you were to ask her, she’d probably attribute her handwriting to her mom as well as to her education and job history. I would describe her handwriting as a business-style cursive but with her own personal touch and expression. At my best moments, I think my handwriting looks a lot like hers. At worst…like, when I’m in a hurry and should just switch to print…it looks like my sons’ homework from 1st grade.

I also have an aunt who takes handwriting to a completely different level. She is a master penman specializing in decorative calligraphy, a member and teaching faculty for the International Association of Master Penmen, Engrossers, and a commissioned artist for the Papyrus Store card company. All of that to say, her level of art and skill has been inspirational, although ultimately impossible to follow after. Nevertheless, there’s influence there which has guided me and instilled in me a level to aim for, even if I never attain ultimately it.

There shouldn’t be anything too surprising about all this. After all, the Proverbs are true about the influence that a parent has over their children. “Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it” (Prov 22:6). That axiom is true about serious, spiritual things. But it’s just as true about the little things of life. I value handwriting and writing skill because my mom valued it and demonstrated that value through her actions. And even though I didn’t always value it, that seed which was planted slowly grew in me as an adult.

There are other reasons why I write with a fountain pen. For one, it slows me down. There are times to be fast, to write things quickly before they’re forgotten. College classes come to mind. I didn’t take all my notes in Spencerian script. I scribbled and abbreviated. Even though I was getting a bachelor’s degree, you would have thought I was studying for my M.D.

But there are times that call for slow and careful and intentional writing. Even though I ultimately type my sermons out, I do a great deal of writing by hand, and I take my time with it. I force myself to slow down and write carefully, to write cleanly and with expression. I have to give myself time to think, because I can type a lot faster than I can think. I always want my hands following my mind and not vice versa. “The plans of the diligent lead surely to abundance, but everyone who is hasty comes only to poverty” (Prov 21:5). Part of being diligent involves making sure you’re moving at a pace where you think things through. It’s a call for careful contemplation, as opposed to swift, hasty action where you haven’t thought through all the possible consequences. For me, part of the micro-application of a principle like that is as simple as taking my time when I write, so I can write in pace with my thoughts.

That’s difficult to do today. It’s going to be even more difficult for my kids. The world isn’t getting any quieter. It’s getting busier and busier. And rather than fix the “busy” factor, we create technological band aids to help us keep up with the “busy.” That’s why today’s younger generations have little to no interest in something like handwriting, nor are they taught penmanship in school anymore. To them, it’s a token of a bygone era when computers still filled rooms and you couldn’t get on the internet without a phone line or or contact someone on another continent without a hefty long-distance bill.

I remember one day when I was teaching 11th grade Bible at Grace Christian School, I proctored the students as they took their PSAT exams. Before the exam was to begin, I walked the students through the introductory pages, finally getting to the section where they had to sign their name at the bottom of the test booklet. One by one, each student admitted that they didn’t know how to write their signature, and thus had no idea how to actually “sign” their name. They had only ever written their name in print. So I took wrote each student’s name in cursive on the white board so they could copy it down for themselves in their test booklet.

That little anecdote illustrates several things, the first of which is that young people today have no category for handwriting as a valuable skillset to acquire or attain, nor have they been taught it as such. I think that fact is a symptom of our busy culture which forces us to move fast and the expense of certain things which used to hold high societal value. 

But I think what that anecdote ultimately underscores, and also the biggest reason why I enjoy writing with a fountain pen, is that penmanship it’s a form of self-expression and creativity. And that speaks to our own humanity as image-bearers of the God who is himself a creative Person. People as human beings can only be so utilitarian before there begins to build in us a sense of purposelessness. We are creative beings, and we are made to be creative. And our own personal handwriting is a simple, everyday way of expressing ourselves creatively…of turning something otherwise mundane and utilitarian into something creative and beautiful. That’s something that even our society recognizes. Why are we still required to put a signature on a form when a simple printed name would do? It’s because a signature is a more accurate expression of an individual’s personality and thus more difficult to forge than a simple printed name.

It says something about our culture and what it values when an entire 11th grade class of 40-50 students doesn’t know how to sign their own name. It says something about the culture at large. And it makes one wonder if there will be a time when handwriting as a whole is viewed as a time-consuming occupation in an era of technological innovation. Will we ever get to a point where everything we do and write is done via computer? I don’t know. Probably not. But then again, if 2020 has taught us anything, it’s to not discount the unlikely.

But regardless of what the future of communication may look like, I still have my pen collection. And when the power goes out, I’ll write you a note by candlelight. And I’ll do it in cursive. Because I can.