Ink and Paper: A Small Education

I did not set out to care about paper. It crept up on me.

A few months ago I bought a bottle of ink I liked the colour of, filled a pen, and wrote a page in my notebook. The next morning I turned it over and found the whole page showing through on the back. The ink had bled through and feathered into the fibres. I had made a mess.

I lost an evening to the question. Here is what I learned, in the order I learned it.

Paper is not all the same

The first surprise was how different two sheets can feel. Some are smooth and cool, almost slippery, and the pen glides without any friction. Others are toothy, with a grain you can feel through the nib. A few seem to drink the ink at once. They look soft and lovely, and they betray you on the second line.

I now think of paper the way a cook thinks of a pan. You can make something on a bad one, but you will fight it.

Weight and what it does

Thin paper is cheap and convenient, and it shows through. A heavier sheet holds more, and keeps a line from spreading. Most of my current notebooks use a sheet of middling weight, thick enough that I can write on both sides without drama.

I've also learned to watch for the way a page behaves when it's wet. If the ink sits on the surface for a moment before it sinks in, it will usually look richer. If it vanishes instantly, it will look flat and tired.

Inks, briefly

I'm no expert and I'll admit it. But I have a few modest rules:

• Try an ink on a scrap before committing a notebook to it

• Dark blues and browns are forgiving, pale colours less so

• A quick-drying ink smudges less, but can dry on the nib

• Wash the pen when you change colours

• Keep the cap on, always

Pens matter too, though less than I thought. A fine nib needs a smoother page. A broad one suits something rougher. Matching them is half the pleasure.

The point of all this

I know this can seem fussy. It's only writing, after all. But I notice that I look forward to sitting down now. The weight of the sheet, the slight resistance of the nib, the colour changing as the ink dries from black to a deep midnight blue. It's a small ceremony.

And the pleasure of it makes me keep doing the thing. I write more because the surface is good. That seems a fair trade for an evening lost to a bleeding page.

What I would say to a beginner

Start with what you have. Buy one good notebook and one pen you enjoy, and let the rest wait. You'll find your own preferences in time, and you'll find them by writing, not by reading about it.

I'll stop here. The ink is drying, and there's a clean page waiting.