Summary

In a whimsical narrative, the author humorously recounts a conversation among their writing instruments, who feel neglected in the digital age and hope for a return to handwriting.

Abstract

The article presents a creative dialogue between the author's pens, pencils, and rulers, who lament their lack of use due to the author's preference for digital devices. The writing instruments reminisce about the past when they were indispensable for writing tasks and express their wish to be used again, especially as the author contemplates returning to traditional writing methods. The conversation reveals a nostalgic longing for the tactile experience of handwriting and the personal touch it adds to communication and creativity.

Opinions

The pens and pencils express a sense of being forgotten and yearn for the days when they were the primary tools for writing.
There is a playful hint of personification as the writing instruments critique the author's reliance on screens and keyboards.
The ruler, named Redline, fondly recalls being used during the author's school days, indicating a generational shift in writing habits.
The instruments speculate that the author might be too embarrassed by their lack of use to let them serve as proofreaders, suggesting a perceived decline in the art of handwriting.
The tools are skeptical of the author's sudden interest in them, suspecting it might be for a photograph rather than for actual writing.
There is a humorous suggestion that the author's hand-drawn sketches were of such quality that even a child could have produced better work.
Despite their teasing, the writing instruments take solace in the idea that the author's written work might still need improvement, implying they would be honored to assist in the writing process.

Fun | Imagination

After Hearing Whispers From My Shelves, I Might Have To Start Writing the Old Fashioned Way Again

My pens, pencils, and rulers are feeling left out these days

The source of this conversation. P.S. I prefer blue pens, and when I repeatedly struggled to find one, Stephanie gave me a decorated box of them as a gift! Photo taken by the author

This is my response to a writing competition prompted by Liberty Forrest and Witchy in Hope * Healing * Humour.

Cobalt: “What is he up to? After being ignored for weeks and weeks, is he actually showing an interest in us?”

Graphite: “I can’t remember the last time my mug was moved.”

Cobalt: “I know! If he’s not writing a shopping list or a gift card, he’s only interested in screens and keyboards. It’s outrageous!”

Graphite: “I wonder why he uses mugs and not a proper pen holder.”

Cobalt: “Who knows?”

Redline: “I’m old enough to remember when he was at school and used me for homework. Everything was handwritten. He had a lot more hair in those days, too!”

Graphite: “Surely you can’t be old enough to remember him being young? And did they even have schools in those days?”

Redline: “He’s only 50-something. I’m sure I told you before. Novelty rulers like yours truly ruled in the 80s.”

Cobalt: “Oh, not that old joke again!”

Graphite: “Do you remember something about a four-colour pen he used at school?”

Redline: “Remember? Silvo was my best friend!”

Graphite: “There are rumours he didn’t stop until all four colours were completely dried up! Surely there must be a law against that?”

Redline: “What a painful way to go. Imagine ending up so empty.”

Cobalt: “Yes, but at least he had a good life.”

Graphite: “We might as well be in a museum for the amount of use we get. Does he keep us just for decorative purposes?”

Cobalt: “Well, as I was saying until we got sidetracked, he does seem interested in us this morning! How unusual is that?”

Graphite: “Why isn’t he taking us to a desk or table? Is he planning to write on the sofa? With all of us? It’s ridiculous!”

Cobalt: “Oh, I get it! He fancies himself as a photographer. He expects us to pose and pretend we’re used frequently. I expect he’s embarrassed about our dusty shelves.”

Redline: “Things could be worse. Would you rather him try his hand at drawing again? Remember when he thought he could become an artist?”

Graphite: “Don’t remind me! I might have been impressed if a child had drawn those sketches.”

Cobalt: “Maybe his written work has plenty of room for improvement, too. Perhaps he hides all his words on that laptop because he’d be too embarrassed for us to act as proofreaders.”

Graphite: “I expect you’re right.”

Redline: “Oh well. It looks like we’re going back on the shelves again. I bet his photos turn out blurry. He didn’t even bother with the tripod. Was it too much effort to bring it downstairs?”

Thank you for reading! Alan 💛

Grace Delphia’s response inspired me to join in the fun. Check out her story here:

If Freud Could See My Desk

The imagined conversation of a therapist’s cluttered stationery

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