The Perfect Pen
The other day I was thinking about my novel's launch and how great an event it would be and then I started worrying about details: which scene I would read, for how long, the music: was it good and Southern enough, what about the signing? Dear God, the signing! Which pen should I use?
I looked through my signed books for a pattern, but there wasn't one. About half of them are signed with ballpoints and the other half are not. In some cases an author (Steve Almond I am looking at you) signed some books in ballpoint and others with rollerball pens. Gah!
These are the tricks of the trade no one tells you when you begin your publishing journey.
So I moseyed on down to Bob Slate, Stationer today to peruse pens. There were a lot. I quickly decided that although for everyday use I prefer the Pilot BP-S pens, these were not to be my signing pens. They are too fine and the ink a bit too pale. I wanted something thicker, more declarative. I stood in front of a locked glass case of very expensive pens and thought, "I hope I don't have to buy a $50 pen." And then the realistic brain that is responsible for bathing and feeding me said, "Jackass, of course you don't need a $50 pen. No one does, and how many absent minded authors do you think can keep track of such a pen before losing it?"
So I walked the aisle picking up pens and testing them. It soon became clear I didn't like the ballpoints and I needed something thicker than fine and extra fine. I scribbled a few sample swirls and words. I started to write my name, got oddly self-conscious, and stopped. So there's a pad of paper that reads "Ste" in the store.
I settled at last on the Uniball Gel Impact 1.0mm pen in black. I bought the last two that were on display. Then I walked to the nearest counter and asked if they carried pencil or pen toppers.
"Erasers?" the salesman asked.
"We have grips," the woman beside him told me.
"No, I was thinking something that says serious author. A fuzzy troll? Glittery strands?"
It's sad when your attempt at humor is met with a straight reaction. They both looked at me as if I'd sprouted horns.
"No trolls," he said. "We have erasers and grips."
The woman suggested I try the toy store next door. I did, but all they had was Sponge Bob eraser toppers.
I had no idea it would be this hard to pimp my pen. But the important thing is that I have the pens. Everything else is frosting.