Fountain pens aren’t exactly practical. They need more attention than a ballpoint—cleaning, refilling, finding the right paper—and yet, I can’t seem to put them down. For me, what some see as inconvenience, I see as a feature. It's an experience.

Ballpoints are everywhere, and sure, they get the job done. But they’re also impersonal, disposable, and honestly, a little boring. They're literally the most optimized and cheapest way to get ink to the masses. Fountain pens are an entirely different story. Writing with one turns a would-be mundane act into something special and magical. It’s not just about putting words on paper; it’s about the process: the connection between you, your thoughts, and the page.

Every fountain pen has its own personality. The nib—how it feels, how it glides, how it reacts to pressure—makes writing feel less like you're doing a task and more like you are collaborating with a living, breathing partner. My HongDian M2, for instance, is the perfect weight in my hand as one of a few everyday carries (pens I carry with me every day). With it's Fine nib, it’s smooth when I want it to be, or scratchy and expressive depending on how I hold it. My Kaweco on the other hand, with its Medium nib, feels far too smooth and glides like butter across the page in a way that makes me pause for fear of smudging the ink—not something I want to be pausing and thinking about when I'm writing from the heart. Contrast that with my M2 and Lamy, both of which feel smooth but still offer that bit of scratchy feedback I enjoy when I'm writing unprompted. That level of customization is unmatched by anything a ballpoint could offer.

But let's be clear: fountain pens demand more effort. You can’t just pick one up and write without a second thought. You’ve got to clean the nib, refill the ink, and choose paper that won’t turn into a smudgy mess. But these little tasks aren’t annoyances—they’re rituals. They make me slow down and focus, which is something I’ve come to value in a world that never stops moving. (Aside from the ritual, there are annoyances that can be quite costly: Sometimes you have to troubleshoot the feed or get ink from the bottle into an old cartridge because your converter broke.)

Then there’s the craftsmanship. Fountain pens are beautiful objects in their own right. My M2 isn’t just a tool—it’s a piece of art. It feels good to use something designed with care and attention to detail, something made to last.

And they aren't all mass produced—some are handmade by artists! Take the The Retograde in Cafe Au Lait by Abigail Markov for example:

I aspire to get the Retrograde because it speaks to me: The carefree swirls are mesmerizing and the section (the part you hold when writing) looks like it would feel interesting form-wise to hold between my fingers. The creamy brown colors are among my favorites—especially as a coffee lover and double especially accented with gold. It feels like it would be an entire vibe paired with my Robert Oster Caffe Crema ink.

And the Cafe Au Lait isn’t from a major pen brand—Abigail is an independent artist who locked in and honed their craft to the point that they developed an audience dedicated to their work.

They share their work with enthusiasts like me, for whom the process and journey of the pen from conception to page makes a pen worth experiencing.

The truth is, the inconvenience of fountain pens is part of why I love them. They’re a reminder that not everything has to be easy or fast to be worthwhile. Writing with a fountain pen is slower, yes, but it’s also richer and more intentional. And in a world that prizes speed above all else, taking the time to enjoy something as simple as writing feels like a small act of welcomed rebellion in these times.

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