For me, pens are a means to ends, more commodity or disposable tool than cherished object, especially when I’m reporting, scribbling notes, just trying to get the elusive thing down before it vanishes. I appreciate that people can be pen people, and I don’t dismiss that kind of pleasure, the kind that starts with ownership and deepens with knowledge, which exists for me with typewriters, bicycles (and, to some extent, stuff like tires and bar tape), wine openers, shoes, vinyl, caps, flasks, a few other objects probably. It’s not that any pen will do in any old situation (though, yeah, when you absolutely need to get a scribble down you’ll find a way, and some of my best written captures have come with the worst-working implements): I have some favorite types and kinds, from telescoping pens good for travel and carrying in my pockets, to bad-weather pens, to long-lasting pens, to ones that will feel okay in my hands for hours. But those are types and my loyalty is to the function rather than the specific item. For editing, I’ve come, after thirty years in the trade, to like a simple, capped pen of average length and width, round, with a bold stroke, and that’s cheap enough to not matter when I leave them all over the office or carry one home, or lose one from my back pocket while I ride, or otherwise mislay and mistreat them. I’d had a good run of a couple years with a model put out by Pilot, then the company either discontinued it or pulled it from the catalog my company buys office supplies from. For months I’ve been trying pens to find a new editing go-to, and just a day or so ago I settled on this one, the Pentel Sign Pen, a black fiber tip made in Japan, less than ten dollars for a box of twelve, and a thick vibrant stroke that means you’re not messing around. The amount of peace this has brought to my life might be ridiculous except for how much of that life is spent marking up pages.












