I know, ink diva sounds a pit pretentious. But, I think we should all be divas, at least in our own minds. So monumentally great at whatever we’re passionate about, we reserve the right to, at least, think diva thoughts. So, I’m a diva. So are you. Take a moment to enjoy your fabulousness.
But, you’re now wondering, why ink? Maybe you’re not wondering that, but in my head, you are. And in my head, I get to be the boss. Sometimes. So, why ink? Who writes with pen and paper anymore when backspace is so much less messy than correction fluid?
I do. Not always. Sometimes, there’s nothing I enjoy more than a brightly lit screen and the clatter of keys. But sometimes, there’s something so real and organic about taking pen to paper. The potential of a blank sheet of paper is infinite. The weight of the pen, the pull as it glides across the paper. Being able to flip through twenty handwritten pages and see it and touch it and even smell it. The reality of it. It’s intoxicating.
And, honestly? I really love pens. I have probably a hundred pens. All different in their color, the intensity of the ink, the way my fingers grip them, the way they write. Even my handwriting is different, depending on the pen.
So, yeah, I’m an ink diva. And I am fabulous.