(Image by Digital Paradox)

When I was little - and already addicted to writing equipment - I dreamed of trying out a quill pen. Living in a big city, the only birds I saw up close were food, or maybe pigeons - but my mother was fond of peacock feathers.

I stole one of those off the wall where it was mounted, and tried dipping it in watercolours (the nearest thing I had to ink). You can imagine how well that went down. The tip never did get clean again.

I remembered this incident when, browsing around on an unrelated search, I found that there are plenty instructions available if you fancied making your own quill pen.

Here’s how you do it, then.

1. Unless you’ve got geese wandering around, you’ll be needing some quill feathers. You can buy those in hobby shops, and they’re pretty cheap. Ducks or geese are best.

2. Get your pen knife. You can strip the plume completely or keep some of it, whichever you prefer. The plume may get in the way of your writing, but it’s pretty, so you may want to sacrifice your comfort a bit. In any event, strip enough of the tip that you have a comfortable grip, and scrape away the scales near the tip.

3. Some sources recommend soaking the quill in cold water beforehand, or dipping it into boiling water to soften it like your fingernails before a manicure. Others advise that you temper it in hot sand to make it more brittle, and clean out the inside of the quill with a piece of wire. Try out all these methods if you like, but I’m quite lazy, so I’ll go on straight to cutting the nib.

4. To make a nib, first slice the tip of the quill at about a 45 degree angle. Shape the remaining tip into a sharp point; after this - and that’s counter-intuitive, but recommended in several places - chop the very tip off to make it slightly blunter. Mind your fingers though.

5. To finish off, working from the inside, cut a groove in the nib to help the ink flow.

6. You are done. You may now dress up in your Rennaissance Faire garb and write long, beautiful letters to no one in particular.

This pair of videos demonstrates in helpful detail everything you may not have figured out from the description above:



Quill-making and calligraphy resources used in preparation of this article:

Some pens don’t look like they’d be nice to write with, but I would still like to touch them, play with them, possibly lick them. Yes, I’m a grown-up, why do you ask?

Bright plastic pens, by RedBlueNY
(Photo by RedBlueNY)

Pen in hand, I declare
Photo by ItsGreg

  • My love of office supplies is irrational, but it is pure. Don’t ask me to explain it, just hand over the multi-coloured index cards.
  • You may want one expensive present for your birthday. I want several notebooks, some pens, and a box of funky paperclips. Make the pens Montblancs, if it makes you feel better.
  • How is sharpening pencils not meditation?
  • I could be a writer. If only I could settle on the perfect damn notebook, and find my favourite pen.
  • Maybe I should write my book in a dip pen.
  • I’m not feeling very well; maybe I should go out and buy a box of pencils to cheer me up.
  • Yes, there is a point in owning quills and ink-pots in the 21st century. The quills and the ink-pots *are* the point.
  • No, I do not have too many notebooks. Or enough notebooks.
  • My stationery will expand to occupy all available space.
  • Of course I have a pen on me.

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This post is now proudly pitching a tent at “Just Write” and “Everything Worth Reading” blog carnivals.

I can’t keep the secret any more: I am a stationery fetishist.

Montblanc Pen, photo by Gep
(image by Gep)

Are you like me?

You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone.

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