Tools of the Trade: Newton Pens Eastman

As I mentioned in my last post, I recently attended the Arkansas Pen Show as a vendor for the first time to sell find new homes for some of my handbound books. It was a wonderful experience for a number of reasons, but not least that my friend and I had the best table-neighbors possible for vending a show. We were placed next to Shawn and Elizabeth Newton of Newton Pens. There was much interesting discussion about art, craftsmanship, writing and tools thereof, superheroes, Maniac Magee (which I promptly re-read and love more than ever), and lots of other random things. There was no way I was walking out of there without finally owning one of Shawn's custom, hand-turned fountain pens.

Choosing just the right pen was nearly impossible. I hemmed and hawed over his incredible selection, chewing my lip as I fought back another wave of frustrated indecision.

Okay, I'm totally lying. If I had allowed myself to actually do more than sneak a side-glance at his table, that is what would have happened, but I didn't let it. I couldn't let my eye wander over there, because (thanks to Shawn's amazing pictures on social media), I had already promised my love (and my money) to one of his pens in particular:

Newton Pens Eastman in Cool Mint Water Acrylic

Shawn has made pens from this material before for other customers, and from the first time I saw it, I was sold. The color is gorgeous--soothing and mild, but with an icy vibrancy in the veining. When writing with it, I catch myself just stopping to look at it, enjoying the way the swirls bend and swoop in the walls of the pen, adding the illusion of mass suspended in weightlessness.

Basically, that's a lot of fluffy wine-tasting talk to say, "It's purty. Like, really." The light was not kind when I tried to take a few quick shots of the pen to add to this post, but there are some much better pictures on the Newton Pens site. (While you're there, go ahead and click the Newton Pens Scholarship tab. It is such a cool program!)

As soon as I entered the room to set up for the show, I was like, "HiShawngimmemypenpleasepleasehurrykthanks," because I didn't want anyone else making me have to fight them for it. When I finally had it in my clutches (along with a custom pen sleeve in the coolest geek-cred fabric made by Elizabeth Newton), I immediately had the strongest urge to go hide in a quiet room and write an entire novel. Unfortunately, since I had two days of selling books to do, I had to sit and stare at it until after the show when I would have time to put some miles on it.

It has some miles on it now.

Yes, it does.

First, I want to talk about the quality of the craftsmanship. This pen doesn't feel like any other pen in my collection. It wouldn't--it's completely unique, made by hand. That said, I dare you to find a flaw. It has been polished to incredible smoothness inside and out. It has been turned with meticulous care and consistency, for any variations of material thickness or machining technique would be fairly obvious in this, a clear pen. The form factor suits it so well: a simple, straight cylinder with flush cap and barrel. It allows the material to take center stage. The cap and barrel threads are tight, so the cap stays in place securely when the pen is closed. The tolerance between cap and barrel when closed is nearly seamless. It is not possible to post this pen given the shape, but the length is significant, similar to a Pelikan m1000, and should be sufficient for any size hands. Likewise, the pen is light enough to hold in quite dainty hands, even though it is of substantial size.

The filling mechanism is cartridge/converter, and it came included with a nice standard-international converter (and a fill of Waterman blue-black). It is also possible, with the addition of a smear of silicone grease on the threads, to use this pen as an eyedropper-filled pen. (Here's more information from Fountain Pen Revolution if you're not familiar with eyedropper-filled pens.) I bought a brand new bottle of Diamine Soft Mint (J. Herbin Diabolo Menthe would also work) just for this purpose.

I chose an extra-fine steel nib for the pen. Shawn now works with a partner who is creating custom gold nibs for his pens, but he also sources good-quality Jowo nibs, which can be found on several well-known manufacturers' pens. Personally, I'm a fan of the Jowo nibs, and I've rarely used a poor one. This nib is no exception, providing a relatively smooth writing experience with a moderate amount of pleasant feedback. (I consider some feedback, or paper-feel, very pleasant when writing. If you prefer a mirror-smooth writing experience, I might direct you to a broader nib. It's rare to find that quality in even the best fine and extra-fine nibs.)

As a crafts-woman myself, few things make me happier than supporting my fellow artists. This pen will remain a special part of my collection, not just because I love how it looks and how it writes (I do!), but because I know what it is to make something with my hands and the guts it takes to share that with others.

I write reviews like this and keep a "Tools of the Trade" portion of this blog specifically because I believe it is important to understand and find affection for the tools that make our endeavors not just possible in a minimal way, but truly enjoyable. I appreciate this pen like I appreciate other tools, and I love it like any number of other nice things I've been blessed to own. However, more than either of those things, I respect it and the hands that made it.

May all that care, attention, and passion infuse every piece I write with it.

Official Title: Writing Sample in Horrible Lighting, $1000 unframed

Arkansas Pen Show

This weekend my friend Derek and I have taken the plunge and set up shop to sell some of our journal handi-work at the Arkansas Pen Show. I've been to the show in years past...and I usually leave with a pen or two, yes...but this year we are on the other side of the table.

I have enjoyed getting to meet so many interesting people with whom I share interests: fine writing tools, art, craftsmanship, and writing. I must admit, I have also enjoyed the experience of having people come and hold my handbound journals, flip through their pages, and think through how they would put them to use. That is a big thing for me--I do hope they will be used. Though I spend much time building the books to be as perfect as they can be, I secretly hope they will cross my path again, just for a glimpse, so I can see them with their pages full to bursting, their corners bumped and frayed, and their bindings limbered by use.

I've enjoyed this, hermit though I am, and I'm thrilled to share my art with people whom I hope will love it the way I do.

Tools of the Trade: Moleskine Le Petit Prince Limited Edition Gift Box

I have long said I think Les Miserables is the greatest novel ever written, and The Little Prince is the wisest one. I love so much about Le Petit Prince, from the sweet illustrations to the philosophy tucked into the so-simple-it's-complicated story. I've got multiple copies of the book in several translations, and an untranslated French copy. It even inspired me to respect a snake. Sort of.

My friend Stacey (who is the very, very coolest) shares my love of the book, and knows me well. For Christmas, she gave me this the Moleskine Le Petit Prince Limited Edition Box Set. As if that wasn't enough, she also gave me the Le Petit Prince Moleskine Planner.

Moleskine Le Petit Prince Limited Edition Box Set

I've been a Moleskine user for nearly a decade, and I've sampled pretty widely from their product line. I've seen a few limited edition sets come and go that I thought would be cool to have, but they're pricey and I never pulled the trigger to buy one for myself. When I heard about this one, I didn't even look at the pictures because I knew I would want it, and I didn't expect I'd ever lay hands on it. Well. Stacey proved me wrong on that one, and I'm so glad she did.

The set contains:

• One photo/keepsake box
• Three Le Petit Prince postcards
• One sheet of Le Petit Prince stickers
• Six ruled Volant notebooks, each with a Le Petit Prince illustration on the front cover, three orange, three Prussian blue

First, the box. It's a nice, big box for photos or other small objects. It is styled like a large Moleskine notebook, with an elastic strap closure. It's a nice package, and I like that it is useful rather than designed to be discarded. The front is engraved with text from the original French Le Petite Prince, but there is no illustration or imagery otherwise beneath the paper label. The interior of the box is designed to cradle the 5 x 8.25 Volants perfectly, and there is a ribbon attached to assist in removing them. Once I have used up the notebooks, I will probably use this box to store ink samples and pen parts. It is certainly much nicer than the shoebox I currently use.

               

Next, the postcards.  The scenes depicted on the three postcards fit thematically with the the "acts" of the book. I eventually plan to mat and frame mine. The stickers included are nicely colored and include some iconic (and heartbreaking) scenes from the book. I don't know if/how I will end up using them, but they're a nice addition to the set.

Lastly, the notebooks. I've used Moleskine Volants in several sizes over the years, and I enjoy the form-factor. The covers are flexible plastic, and the binding is glued. They're a little more durable feeling than the Moleskine Cahier, which has a thick paper cover, but the plastic makes it feel a little less romantic. They open flat and are consistently constructed across all six. The paper is off-white and ruled with relatively subtle gray lines.

My one gripe with Moleskine has always been their paper consistency. You might get one that has amazing smooth paper that can take the wettest fountain pen and make the ink pop off the page, and then turn around and get another one that feels like writing on the illegitimate child of a grocery bag and a roll of toilet paper. That hasn't been enough to stop me using them because I really like their durability, form-factor, ruling options/styling, and relative availability, but I know a lot of extensive writers who spend a lot of money looking for quality notebooks that no longer touch them. It's not enough to give us a good notebook once in a while. We want to know that when we pay for a premium writing experience, we're going to get one every time.

I've found the Volant from this set I've been using to be on the lower end of the Moleskine quality range. The paper looks great, with a smooth finish and crisp ruling (especially compared to some of the lower-quality Cahiers I've had that looked and felt like sandpaper). I thought I was in for a lucky Moleskine experience, but the ink test page never lies. There are some considerable feathering and bleedthrough issues, especially with wetter/broader fountain pen nibs.It can hold its own with a fine nib and relatively conventional ink, but there is still some spotting and showthrough. If you're a ballpoint or pencil user, you won't have a bit of problem.

Personally, I'm not that bummed about the paper because it's definitely not the worst quality Moleskine I've ever used, and for what I need out of this notebook, it'll do fine. This Volant trucks along with me in my work bag where I tend to hustle in notes with either a Uniball Signo gel pen or (if I'm lucky), my Pilot Metropolitan or Kakuno, both fine nibs and nearly always inked with well-behaved Pilot Iroshizuku Take-sumi. I'm not afraid to write over blots and bleedthrough, and I still adore the cover, the form-factor, the ruling, and the flexibility of the notebook. I'm still not sure what surprises are in store for the other five in the set; this is the only one I've tested, and there's no guarantee the other that came with it will have the same paper quality.

This set was originally released in 2012 and is currently discontinued, but can be found in new condition with a little digging.

Le Petite Prince 2015 Weekly Planner

But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you.”  --Antoine St. Exupery, The Little Prince

This planner was not part of the Gift Box, but is a welcome companion. It seems appropriate to drop in a little review of it as well.

The planner is designed like a standard large Molekine hardcover notebook, and feels much the same to use. The opening section of the planner includes yearly calendars, time zone information, flight destinations, and even a ruler printed on the edge of a page. Some of these things may come in handy to some, but for me, they're more or less filler except for the yearly calendars.




The calendar pages are set up nicely for my purposes, with a week on the left and a note page on the right. It works out that the note page provides guide lines for the following calendar page, allowing me to keep things neat if I'm so inclined. (So far, I am. Check with me again around November.)

 

I have a separate planner for work--I use a battle-worn Staples Arc with custom pages--so this has become my personal planner. I keep up with band performances, travel plans, visits and activities with friends, bookbinding orders/shipping dates, and blog posts. (Yes, I do try to plan those. No, I don't often succeed. I'm trying!) 

The paper is thin and prone to bleedthrough, but is smooth and pleasant to write on. Again, I'm not too uptight about bleedthrough and have no problems writing right over it.

Maybe moreso than the Le Petit Prince Gift Box Volants, Moleskine really turned on the charm with the theme. Even the label, which I almost crumpled and threw away, has a little Easter egg on the reverse side: The Little Prince's passport.

 

Instead of the usual Moleskine "If found, return to..." page, they did a special version that made me smile. Here is the one in the Le Petit Prince Volant and the one in the Le Petit Prince planner. 

On the back pocket is printed a passage from the book in English and French. It happens to be one of my favorite quotes, and had it not been printed there, I might have written it in myself. Lovely.

The pocket contains some Le Petit Prince stickers to use however you wish, and in my case a heck of a lot of post-it notes, receipts, and some flags to keep all the planner sections easily accessible.

My biggest fear with this planner is that I will grow attached to it over the year and be sad when it expires. I may have to try my hand at using the cover to rebind a journal or something when the time comes. 

The End

This has got to be the longest review I have ever written, but there are a lot of components to cover! I hope it was helpful, and I hope it might inspire someone to read one of my all-time favorite books. Thanks again to the wonderful Stacey for such a thoughtful, perfect gift, and for remembering, "All grown-ups were once children... but only few of them remember it.”

Tools of the Trade: Commonplace Book

As I mentioned yesterday, if you see me out in person, odds are you will find a notebook somewhere on me. I have them coming out of my ears (not literally, though a pair of earring notebooks would be interesting...), and I use them often. I keep them with me so I won't miss out on those important droplets of information that rain down so unpredictably. Sometimes it is a quote, sometimes an image, sometimes an idea. They're all things I want to keep, and I just don't trust my spongy gray-matter enough to hold onto it for me by itself. These notebooks are not quite journals, though they are certainly personal. They are my commonplace books.

Yes. They're all full. All.

Commonplace books have a long history, dating back to the 15th century Italy when they were known as "zibaldone", or "hodgepodge books." That's a good way of describing them--a commonplace book can hold a little bit of everything, and each is unique to its owner. Many great minds have used them to store their thoughts and information, including John Locke, Mark Twain, Henry David Thoreau, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. For what it's worth, commonplace books also factored into the A Series of Unfortunate Events series by Lemony Snicket, and that deserves as much distinction as anything.

One facet that separates a commonplace book from a diary or a journal, is that the content is not always intrinsically personal, and the pages are often indexed. John Locke is credited for popularizing an index system in which each page must be given a header to identify the content and how it will be used. Locke's system was aimed toward academics, but the foundation is useful in any context. There comes a sense of responsibility for what goes on the page once that header is on there, and I find it helps me maintain focus. (Read: I feel guilty for tangents. Then I make a new page for the tangent, but since it has a name, it is no longer a tangent. Lather, rinse, repeat.) 

Allow me to outline my incredibly complicated commonplace book indexing system. Every page of my commonplace book gets the topic of that page on the upper corner, and the right page (only, unless it is a top bound spiral notebook) gets a page number.

That's pretty much it.

When the book is full, and I do mean every-single-line full, I go back and fill out an index card with the labels and contents. I tape it to the back cover of the book, and then I grab up the next one to start all over again.

My commonplace book is a comfort. I know I always have a safe place to scribble down a thought or an image so I can save it for later when I'm going to "really" write. If I'm away from home and inspiration calls, I can do a little novel drafting and the index keeps me from losing the pages in the mix. These books also hold my idea stockpile. If I can't find something to write about, I can flip through them and find all kinds of inspiration. When I do find one of those rare free moments to write something down or read something back, I feel more intensely myself than any other time throughout my day. That's a pretty big gift for a tiny little pad of paper.

It might be a notebook to you, but it is more than a place to scribble a grocery list. My commonplace book is like a beating heart tucked into my purse or pocket, and I am better off for having it there.

Standing on the Shoulders of Giants

I read an article in The Wall Street Journal a few years ago* by novelist Paul Theroux in which he described his creative process. He mentioned that writing by hand is a crucial part of his writing process (and he always uses a Lamy pen on good-quality Docket Diamond paper). In that article, he quoted Hamish Hamilton who would often praise writers' handwriting, stating, "He has a good fist." Mr. Theroux went on to state that he was once approached by a budding novelist who asked his advice on how to improve her work. He quickly told her that she needed to go back and copy the first fifty pages of her novel by hand. She asked, "Can I do it on the computer?" Mr. Theroux did not chuck her into the sea, but explained no, she needed to write her words by hand so she could study them, and that typing is vastly different than actual writing. In the end, the woman did not take his advice. Mr. Theroux said he knew it would have helped because he "would have been able to see her 'fist' in it."

We already know I'm on board with putting my "fist" in my work. Like Mr. Theroux, handwriting is a crucial part of my process. I can't think at all unless I have a pen in my hand--it is where I store my brain. Handwriting is not optional; I need to do it or I cannot write well. At least, I cannot write like me. (Also like Mr. Theroux, I do enjoy a nice Lamy pen.)

I've read other articles that suggest taking Mr. Theroux's advice another step further. If handwriting can light up our creative neural pathways and open doors into our own writing, then it naturally follows that a positive practice effect can be achieved by handwriting copies of works we admire. Basically, if I want to learn to turn a phrase like Steinbeck or draw a setting like Hemingway, I can learn how it feels to do so by copying the places they did those things well. It is a way to marinate our brains in someone else's good words so that eventually, when we are writing our own work, we will recognize the cadence, the look on the page, and the feel in the hand. Then we will know when our own words are good, too.

I learned of this technique a good while ago. I thought it was a good idea, and I meant to try it. I have written miles of pages since then, much of it morning grumbles about how I always want another cup of coffee, but I had never taken up my pen to try it out. I guess I am so hardwired against plagiarism that copying someone else's work seemed out-of-bounds, even for practice.

Since I have been sick and operating on half a brain, I figured it was as good a time as any to give it a try.

Like with most good advice, it turns out it was effective, and actually a good bit of fun.

I started with a handful of nearby books I have read and admired for one thing or another. After I did the handwriting sample, I did a little slab of analysis on what I learned.

A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick

I have long loved Philip K. Dick. I appreciate his work for his madness as much as his imagination, his sensitivity as much as his bravado. A Scanner Darkly is unique among the PKD novels and stories I've read, and I was glad to get my finger on what makes it tick. The first thing I noticed was that his sentences are actually straightforward and simple, unfolding one idea straight to the next like a set of Russian nesting dolls. He's not big on commas, either for connection or pause. He uses them appropriately, but not for fun. It adds to the straightforward style and voice. This works well, given the way PKD's works tangle themselves up in complexity and confusion as they go along. If his writing got in his way, it would be hopeless to follow.



Watership Down by Richard Adams

Watership Down has long been heralded a classic, not just for its story, but for the creative, sensitive handling of writing from the perspective of a rabbit. Richard Adams gives his readers an experience they couldn't have any other way, and he does it in three dimensions. In the sample I copied, Adams takes his time drawing the setting and ambiance. I could feel it in the words themselves and the long, languid sentences. There was such an emphasis on all the trees and grasses, I almost sneezed just writing it. It gets the job done setting the world at a rabbit's eye view, and his lush writing mirrors the lushness he is trying his best to get his readers to see with him.




The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

The Old Man and the Sea was considered by Hemingway to be his greatest work. It has certainly endured as such, and is a fine example of Hemingway's signature style. The writing is sparse and unadorned, and often his sentences run on and on, nailed together with a string of conjunctions. He says a lot with a little, and does so without a comma in sight. The stark style works for the type of tale he's building, and the sentences come across as being brave and secure, unapologetic even. There are no nervous adjectives to add insurance to his descriptions. They just are what they are. Only at the end of his paragraphs does the hammer fall, and Hemingway hits us with a pitch-perfect metaphor summing up all we really need to know.



The Giver by Lois Lowry

The Giver is a deceptive book. It sits camouflaged in the children's section of bookstores and libraries, pretending to be simple. It is not. There is nothing simple about it, and any lesser writing would never be able to pull together the slow-build of complex and increasingly conflicting ideals that gives the book its payoff. In copying this sample, I was stuck by how many words I saw dedicated to mood-setting. Lowry crafts a scene in which a relatively non-threatening event is described with palpable, growing anxiety. It is almost subliminal how she does it, sneaking in emotional cue words. Hardly even allowing us to notice, she builds a history of fear in half a paragraph, all while developing the setting of a community which has supposedly banished that very emotion to extinction.


Clearly, there is a lot to be learned by studying the works of writers who matter to us. I can milk a lot out of a reading experience if I put my mind to it, but there really is something to writing down their words. It's like trying on someone else's shoes. They probably don't quite fit, but you can still see how they look on your own feet.

This is an ongoing process, and I have a lot more to learn and discover. If nothing else, it is giving me a mighty fine excuse to use my favorite pens and paper, and to wave hello to a few books that have become old friends.

*Paul Theroux, "Paul Theroux on the Powers that Flow From a Pen," Wall Street Journal online, retrieved May 21, 2012