Introduction – The Other Half of the Ritual
There’s a particular moment when a capped pen meets the page—that soft pull of friction and ink that makes you slow down, even if only for a second.
In a previous essay, I wrote about the experience of Japanese paper—the feel of ink on its surface, the softness and intention built into the page itself. But the act of writing isn’t just about the paper. It’s also about the pen.
Writing is a kind of meditation. The moment you pick up a pen, you’re entering into a small, deliberate ritual. There’s friction, rhythm, sound. It slows you down and focuses you.
Every pen or pencil has its own personality, and we gravitate toward the ones that feel right in our hands. Some are precise. Others bold. Some feel like tools, others like small works of design. What you reach for tells you something about how you think—and what kind of marks you want to leave behind.
What Makes a Good Pen?
A good pen begins at the tip. The way the nib or point guides ink across the page is paramount—the delicate balance between drag and flow. If the pen is too sharp or dry, it can make your hand ache, forcing your writing to slow to a crawl. Too smooth, and it becomes unruly—great for speed but lacking in intentionality. The best pens strike a balance that matches the moment.
On Japanese paper, this dance becomes even more noticeable. The texture of the page meets the pen with a whisper or a scratch, depending on what you use. The sensory feedback is part of the pleasure—the feeling of resistance, the softness or firmness of each stroke, the visual result of ink soaking into the grain just enough to feel alive but not so much to bleed.
Beyond the tip, there's the pen's weight, grip, and size. A pen that fits well in the hand becomes an extension of thought. Too heavy, and it drags. Too light, and it floats away from the page. Even the act of engagement matters: the snap of a cap, the click of a mechanism, the quiet readiness of a capped roller ball waiting to be uncapped.
Aesthetic matters, too. A pen can be a fashion object, a status symbol, a functional tool, or all three. Everyone has preferences, and those preferences are expressive. Some want a pen that feels serious. Others prefer playful or nostalgic. Our writing instruments say something about us. The kind of pen you choose—just like how you write with it—is personal.
Typology of Writing Instruments
Writing instruments aren’t all built the same way. Each carries its own design logic, personality, and ideal use case. Some offer control, others fluidity. Some are meant to erase; others are meant to last forever. That variety reflects the many ways people think and express themselves.
Every type of pen or pencil also exists along a spectrum of quality and price. For nearly every category, you’ll find:
The budget version: mass-produced, accessible, and often disposable. (e.g. Pilot)
The mid-range option: better materials, more thoughtful design, and often refillable. (e.g. LAMY)
The luxury tier: where design meets status, often made from rare or premium materials, and priced for collectors or connoisseurs. (e.g. Montblanc)
Ballpoint Pens
Practical and low-maintenance. Ballpoints dispense a viscous oil-based ink that dries quickly and lasts forever. They’re the default pen for many people—reliable, durable, and mess-free. But they often feel stiff or lifeless, requiring more pressure to write. Historically, the ballpoint was a technological breakthrough in the 20th century—an answer to leaky fountain pens.
Personality: no-nonsense, utilitarian, dependable.
Gel Pens
These bridge the gap between the fast-drying precision of a ballpoint and the saturated flow of a rollerball. Gel ink is smoother and darker, which makes it popular for everyday writing with more flair. They’re expressive and often colorful, but prone to smudging.
Personality: casual, expressive, energetic.
Rollerball Pens
My personal favorite. They use water-based ink that flows more freely, creating a richer, more tactile writing experience. They glide, but with resistance. On Japanese paper, they leave satisfying dark trails without too much bleed. Invented in the 1960s, they were designed to offer a smoother alternative to the ballpoint without the maintenance of a fountain pen.
Personality: thoughtful, balanced, modern.
Fountain Pens
The most storied of all. Once the standard writing instrument, fountain pens are now largely ceremonial. They require care, maintenance, and a willingness to fuss. You refill them with ink, clean them, cap them tightly, and store them thoughtfully. Writing with one is slow, deliberate, and not always practical. On high-quality paper, the results can be beautiful—shaded, expressive, full of character. But on regular paper, the ink often bleeds and feathers, making them frustrating for everyday use.
They are also status symbols—objects of taste and ritual more than utility. Many people buy them not for what they do, but for what they represent: heritage, craftsmanship, or prestige.
Personality: romantic, particular, and occasionally a little self-important.
Brush Pens
Used in calligraphy and art, brush pens emulate the feeling of a traditional brush. The line thickness varies with pressure and movement, which makes every stroke feel alive. They're common in East Asian writing traditions but increasingly appreciated by Western artists and stylists.
Personality: expressive, intuitive, artistic.
Mechanical Pencils
Clean, precise, and reusable. They’re ideal for drafting, math, and architecture—anywhere you need sharp lines and easy corrections. You never have to sharpen them, and the lead size is consistent. They have a bit of a sterile feel, but they’re efficient.
Personality: disciplined, technical, minimalist.
Wood Pencils
The classic. They smell like memory. You have to sharpen them, and the tip dulls as you write, but they feel warm and human. Ticonderogas, in particular, carry a kind of American cultural cachet.
Graphite pencils range from 9H (very hard, very light) to 9B (very soft, very dark), with HB at the center. The H range is favored by architects and designers—grades like 4H and 6H are ideal for clean outlines that can be traced over or erased cleanly. B-grade pencils are softer and darker, perfect for drawing and shading.
For everyday writing and schoolwork, HB to B is the sweet spot—dark enough to read easily, firm enough to avoid smudging.
It feels like a pencil made for people who care about how tools look and feel, not just how they perform.
Personality: nostalgic, analog, grounded.
Markers & Fineliners
Designed for boldness and clarity. Permanent markers are about impact, while fineliners are precise and often used in technical drawing or detailed journaling. They’re less suited to longform writing but offer their own kind of visual drama.
Personality: deliberate, bold, design-minded.
Writing Instruments I've Used Recently
Pens
#6 – Zebra F-301 (~$2)
It looks cool—brushed metal, compact. But the writing experience is stiff. The ink is faint, the pen itself too small for long stretches. It’s a pen you want to like more than you actually do. Disappointing.
#5 – Uniball Jetstream RT 0.7mm (~$2.50)
This one’s made for speed. If you need to scribble fast, it’ll keep up. But the writing lacks soul. The ink line is thin and forgettable, and the grip—despite the rubber—is oddly uncomfortable. Efficient, yes. But sterile.
#4 – Pilot G2 (0.5 / 0.7 / 1.0mm) (~$2)
The G2 was the status pen in high school. Everyone wanted one in 0.7mm. The 1.0 writes more smoothly and feels less scratchy, so that’s the one I lean toward now. It’s a classic for a reason. But once you move into the world of capped roller balls, the G2 starts to feel cheap—too glossy, too eager to smudge. The ink feels less deliberate.
#3 – Pilot Precision V5 Extra Fine (~$2.25)
My first love. I still remember the first time I used one in school and thought, oh—so this is what a pen is supposed to feel like. The needlepoint tip dances on the page, laying down crisp, fine lines. On cheaper or low-quality paper, the ink tends to smudge—it’s a little too wet for surfaces that don’t absorb quickly. Still—this one made me realize I cared about pens.
#2 – Uniball Vision Micro (~$2.50)
A close second. Smooth and consistent, it has a touch too much ink flow which gives it a slightly looser feel on the page. There’s less satisfying drag—less texture in the experience. But still, the lines are sharp, and it plays well with fine-grain paper. A bit too utilitarian for me but a strong contender for everyday use.
#1 – Arteza Roller Ball Pen 0.5 (Extra Fine) (~$1.50)
This pen converted me to a roller ball fanboy. It’s capped, extra fine, and glides with just the right amount of feedback. On Japanese paper, it leaves a precise, dark line that dries quickly but looks alive—as if the ink is still thinking. The body fits perfectly in my hand, modern and unobtrusive. The clip is firm. No rattles, no fuss. If a pen can be Zen, this is it.
The ink strikes a perfect balance between wetness and control—smooth without smearing, especially on quality paper. It performs above its price point, delivering a mid-tier experience with high-end restraint. It's everything a good rollerball should be: reliable, expressive, and quietly elegant.
What makes it even more impressive is the price. Arteza is a direct-to-consumer brand known more for art supplies than prestige writing tools. They design their pens in the U.S. and manufacture overseas, keeping costs low without compromising feel or performance. Sold in multipacks, the per-pen cost drops well below competitors, even though it writes like a $5 pen. That’s its charm: unpretentious excellence from a brand you’d never expect.
Pencils
#3 – BIC Mechanical Pencil #2 (0.7mm) (~$0.50)
Cheap and reliable. But the eraser is smudgy, and the feel on the page is too uniform. Useful when you need something functional, but nothing more.
#2 – Zebra M-301 (~$2.50)
A nice mechanical pencil. Slim and professional-looking. But I prefer having an eraser on the pencil cap.
#1 – Dixon Ticonderoga HB 2 Soft (~$0.30)
The king of mass-produced wood pencils. Smooth, nostalgic, and satisfying. The eraser actually works. It reminds me of grade school worksheets and spelling tests. The only downside: sharpening. A hassle I no longer tolerate often.
Looking at this list, I realize how much my preferences have changed—not toward luxury, but toward tools that ask me to slow down and enjoy the process.
Writing Instruments I Am Curious About for a Potential Upgrade
Here are a few pens and pencils I’m interested in exploring as potential upgrades—tools that might bring more joy, balance, or refinement to my writing experience:
Rollerball Pens:
Baron Fig Squire ($55-$175) – It appeals to me for its sturdy, minimalist construction and modern design—clean and intentional, without feeling fragile or overthought. Mixed feelings about the twist mechanism though.
Waterman Hémisphère ($70–$120) – I’m drawn to its sleek, opulent design—it gives luxury without the price tag or pretense of a Montblanc.
Montblanc Meisterstück Classique Rollerball ($300–$500) – To pens what a solid gold Rolex is to watches. Don't think I'll ever be serious about this one but it has to be mentioned.
Fountain Pens (if I ever give in):
LAMY Safari (~$40) – I’m interested for its Bauhaus-inspired design, ergonomic grip, and reputation as one of the most accessible yet thoughtfully made fountain pens.
Pencils:
Blackwing 602 (~$2–3 each) – I'm drawn to it for its clean matte aesthetic and its distinctive rectangular eraser.
If you’ve found a pen, pencil, or writing tool that you love—one that feels like an extension of your hand or your thoughts—I’d love to hear about it.
This was a delight to read! As a lefty, the Uni-Ball Jetstream RT is one of the best because it has hybrid ink (between gel and ballpoint), dries super fast (to limit smudging, a problem I often have), and has smooth writing!