Friday, 18 December 2015

Inked Out

I should have known something strange was going to happen when I saw the eerie color of the sky late that afternoon. There was this otherworldly feeling, more than the glow of a setting sun. The sky was dark, and if it hadn’t been so mild I wouldn’t have been surprised to wake the next morning to a blanket of snow.

Hours after the sun left us in the dark of night, strange things began to happen. I was wrapping presents and as I wrote the gift tag, my pen ran out of ink. I grabbed another sitting by my laptop, and it too ran empty. (2)

I remember, and it must have been a fore warning, that my beautiful Cross pen, a gift from a friend, had run out of ink the night before (3) as I was writing my lists and notes, catching up with my Christmas journal. I couldn’t find another pen that worked among the three pens in my bedside table. (6)

I had made a holder that drapes over the side of my chair, to hold the remotes...and a small pencil case. Three pens and a Sharpie in the case didn’t work. (10) What is going on here?

I love pens, have been known to pick up freebie pens whenever I can to add to my stash. And I have pens everywhere, for you never know when inspiration will strike and you need to write something down. Since most of my usual pen places were letting me down, I went to the cupboard where I have a mug from my old desk, filled with pens and pencils. Three promos and a Bic, all out of ink, or not working at any rate. Now the count is (14).

I finally found a neon green promo pen from Durham College that would write. I also found a Papermate and two cheapies from the dollar store that worked.

I could go to bed, feeling safe and secure that if inspiration struck in the middle of the night I would actually have a pen to make notes.

The next day I replenished my stock. The pencil case is full of new pens, as is the bedside table, and the table with my laptop is similarly equipped.

A little OCD you might think, and I’d agree. But every writer I know loves paper, and loves pens. The fear is always to come up with the perfect word, the perfect phrase...and not be able to write it down.

Just in case, I think I’ll add some pencils, and a sharpener, to my pen stashes. You just never know, and if inspiration strikes, I want to be prepared.

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