And you thought pens were boring?

Shame on you! Here’s proof of the reverse and a writing prompt, all in one…

Courier-News, Bridgewater, New Jersey, 1915.

Erm, I think that says it all – except apologies for the absence over the last few weeks! I have been immersed in copy-edits on Mistletoe to make sure it’s off to the printer in time for the Christmas period. Though that led to some interesting developments with a Fountain Pen Revolution Himalaya, of which more later!

Bye for now…

Alison Littlewood

On the Hunt for Boorum & Pease

By guest contributor, Josh Rex           

I love to handwrite, which is useful since I write fiction. In grade school, I used to bring home a stack of rag paper with those fat horizontal lines resembling highways and practice my cursive letters with the care and devotion of a medieval monk working on an illuminated manuscript. There was something about the wand-like holding of a pencil or pen, the transference into script of the flow of idea into something cohesive and comprehensible (at least most of the time), the tactile and audible scratch of lead or nib on a fresh crisp sheet.

When I began seriously writing fiction about a decade ago, I started with the keyboard, which was fine for a while, but I missed the physical interaction with the page I’d come to love as a child. So I bought a few yellow legal pads and sat down at an antique desk to begin my new novel in earnest – in longhand – with No. 2 lead pencils that are in need of sharpening every few paragraphs. This turned out more interesting, and also more distressing, than I had anticipated. My cursive had deteriorated to the point of illegibility. Also, strange things happened when I tried to form those elegant letters. My upper case Zs and Es resembled String Theory diagrams, or characters from some alien language. The speed of my modern, computer driven thought was no longer in time with the increasingly old fashioned art of handwriting. I pressed on, and discovered something surprising: the more I actually wrote, the less scattered and fragmented my initial drafts became; they improved in both lucidity and quality, which of course made the successive drafts that much easier. The process was, and is, slower, but I’ve found that the art of writing has actually improved my fiction, and made writing it even more enjoyable.

Thus I was reborn, as it were, as an author from the days of graphite stained fingers and blotted parchment. This coincided with the gift of a Boorum & Pease notebook a family member had found at a garage sale. I loved the quality of the paper and the durability and after filling it, I wanted another. An online search revealed that the one I’d just written my new novel in was actually quite rare. Boorum & Pease is a brand with roots in 1840s Brooklyn, New York. The Boorum & Pease Company was founded in 1870, and produced notebooks and loose-leaf devices as well as other office supplies in the United States for over a century.[1] They were bought in the mid 1980s by Esselte Pendaflex, which was itself acquired by TOPS products. Despite all these changes, somehow B&P books continue to be made in the USA, which is something that has become increasingly important to me. They may cost a little more and take more work to locate, but I figure it’s a fair exchange compared to the indifferent purchasing of outsourced goods produced through third-world labor exploitation…  


On a recent trip to New York City, I googled “vintage stationery nyc”, figuring that if anywhere in this country would have old American made notebooks/supplies it would be there. I was not disappointed. Third down on the list of results was a place called Phil’s Stationery, “the last of the mom and pop stationers” as their website declares. I walked the thirty or so blocks from my hotel with a friend to E.47th St, and as soon as I saw the storefront, I knew I’d struck oil (or ink, if you will). Remember when Cher is walking around Manhattan in the film Moonstruck? That’s what we’re talking. Bright yellow plastic signage advertising “Zerox Copies” and white panel hook board in the windows backdropping a stockpile of items quickly becoming archaic in the age of iPhones: memo pads, accordion files, expensive fountain pens, paper desk calendars, deluxe leather-bound planners, etc. I was enthralled, though my companion was less impressed; he referred to the place, with an expression of disbelief, as “the land of the dead”.

Almost immediately I located an entire wall of B&P ledgers and notebooks – a few of which were nearly identical to my vintage one. When I inquired about the price, I was told that they were “very expensive….really expensive” which translated to $55 for essentially an updated version of what I had. Pricey indeed for a notebook, but the quality appeared the same. Then I found some smaller B&P composition books on a lower shelf – plain grey, with numbered pages, made in the mid 1990s – and only $15. Huzzah! I grabbed one and continued exploring the store while my companion smoked outside on the curb, apparently seeing all he needed to see. In one way I couldn’t blame him, as the stench of a deceased rodent pervaded the stationery aisle.

The front half of the store was well ordered, but as I walked, the shelves became increasingly messier. They were heaped with indistinct boxes of assorted paper stock, Rolodex cards, binders, manila folders, and the like. Out of this secretarial mélange I scored a package of vintage Eaton Berkshire letter envelopes ($3.50) and a mysteriously coverless and backless pad of lined paper ($1). The staff at Phil’s Stationery was kind and helpful, and I was thrilled to find subsequently that they have an active Amazon storefront when I’m in need of re-orders.

As for now, off to start a new short story in my grey Boorum & Pease comp book, and maybe a letter or two.

Joshua Rex

Joshua Rex writes speculative fiction in Providence, Rhode Island, where he lives with his partner, the poet Mary Robles, and a large black cat. Visit him at and

[1] Source:

Summery Inks by J. Herbin

Inks by J. Herbin seem to be taking over my life just now. They’re just so sunshiny, and happy, and a pleasure to use and to look at. Every note I make seems to be in a fresh spring green or vibrant blue or a delightful shade of pink (or is it purple?). I’m in danger of turning into one of those trendy people who changes all their inks with the season, or indeed possesses such a thing as a summer wardrobe.

Anyway! A word on the company, because it’s interesting. La Societe Herbin, Maitre Cirier a Paris, was established in 1670, when the Sun King, Louis XIV, was thirty-two. Herbin can therefore lay claim to being the oldest name in pen inks in the world. Fun fact: their violet ink was the colour used by students during the Third Republic (1870-1940).

And my current choices are . . .

Vert Pre

This ink makes me smile. It’s a beautiful light apple-y colour with lots of shading. A fresh, summery, carefree kind of ink, it’s probably best suited to a nice fat nib to really appreciate its qualities. Verdict: A big happy smiley YES.

Violette Pensee

I love, love, love this ink. It’s just so vibrant. It’s interesting that it looks a bit more pink when wet, turning a dark lavender (or indeed violet, heh heh) as it dries. (Yes, I’m now getting excited about watching ink dry.) It’s dark enough to be practical but fun enough to enjoy, and positively glows in sunlight. Verdict: A new favourite.

Corail des Tropiques

A delicate coral which looks lovely through the cartridge – this would be awesome in an eyedropper or demonstrator. When writing, though, I find it too light for my tastes. On the other hand orange shades just don’t do it for me, so perhaps our relationship was doomed from the start. Verdict: Maybe it’s a bit too pretty. What am I going to do, write a romance?

Bleu Calanque

I’m not a big fan of blues – I think I’ve spent too many years restricted to blue or black, or blue-black, or black-blue – but this may be the one to change my mind. The name means ‘blue cove’ and it has the vivid, almost turquoise hue of a sunlit sea. It’s quite well saturated, and jottings made in this ink really stand out in my notebook. Verdict: sharp, vibrant, not about to hide away in a corner. I like it.

Larmes de Cassis

Is it a light purple? Is it a greyish pink? I don’t even care. I put this in a new Faber-Castell Essentio some months ago and it’s such a gorgeous combination I haven’t changed it since. The name means ‘tears of blackcurrant’ – oh, but isn’t it pink?! Anyway, it’s a well-saturated ink with some lovely shading. Verdict: Adore. A definite keeper.

Paper used: Clairefontaine.

Pens used, pictured top to bottom: Faber-Castell Essentio (Fine), Diplomat Traveller (Medium), Faber-Castell Ambition (Broad), Kaweco Sport (Broad), Faber-Castell Grip (Medium).

If you wish to join me in my Herbin obsession, inks are available from Cult Pens or Hamilton Pens (who also sell the teeny 10ml bottles), and, I’m sure, other reputable retailers.

I purchased these inks myself and links are not affiliated or sponsored.

Alison Littlewood


How exciting! A brand new blog. The thing is, we writers often end up talking about the nuts and bolts of what we do – the craft, the structuring, the words, the editing, the endless, endless waiting – lots of things, in fact, about writing itself. What we don’t often talk about is the writing – the process of putting words onto paper.

What I’m getting at is, of course, PENS! Glorious, lovely, magical pens. And the paper they glide upon, and indeed the wondrous ink they employ.

So this is our place to shamelessly geek out. And we will be inviting lots of writer chums to join in – to write about their favourite fountain pens, top ink recommendations, best writing paper, tippety-top pen shops, wish-list if-only grail pens, pen and ink reviews, and anything else that pops into our heads.

So please do come along for the ride – we hope you enjoy!

Alison Littlewood