Five Reasons Why I Write With a Fountain Pen (And Why You Should Too)
Writing with a fountain pen won’t change your life — but it will certainly enrich it.
In fact, I’ll go further: writing with a fountain pen will enchant your life. And in an age so steeped in disenchantment, we could all use a little more Middle-earth-style magic in our day-to-day monotony. (If you couldn’t tell, I’m currently deep in The Lord of the Rings.)
But I digress.
Writing with a fountain pen doesn’t just enrich and enchant your daily routine — it also introduces a subtle, modest beauty and aesthetic in a world increasingly defined by mechanical sterility and uniform drabness. We live in a society of overly polished Instagram filters and Apple Store minimalism.
A fountain pen strikes a balance: somewhere between gross decadence on one end, and the drab utilitarianism of the plastic ballpoint Bic (or the Apple Pencil — which, let’s be honest, is not a pen) on the other.
But really, a fountain pen doesn’t just strike a balance — it stands apart, the obvious and uncontested superior.
Now, I know I’ve made some rather astonishing claims about an archaic writing tool. So what makes them true for me?
Here are five reasons why I write with a fountain pen — and why you might want to as well.
1. A Fountain Pen Possesses Gravitas
Gravitas — a Latin term meaning “weight” or “heaviness.” The word communicates seriousness, reliability, dignity, and solemnity.
In an age of the trite and trivial — when everything is communicated via emojis, avatars, memes, and reels — the fountain pen says:
“Some things require a serious, weighted, and dignified response.”
Not everything is trivial or fit for a reel. Not everything can — nor should — be texted, tweeted, or, yes, even typed.
It reminds me of something C.S. Lewis once said in his introduction to Athanasius’ On the Incarnation:
“I believe that many who find that 'nothing happens' when they sit down, or kneel down, to a book of devotion would find that their hearts sing unbidden while they are working their way through a tough bit of theology with a pipe in their teeth and a pencil in their hand.”
Allow me to riff on Lewis for a moment, in the context of writers of all kinds:
“I believe that many who find 'nothing happens' when they sit down in front of their laptops, tablets, iPads — or even their throwaway ballpoint — would find that their hearts sing unbidden while they are writing an essay, letter, sermon outline, or poem with a fountain pen.”
The simple fact is this: highly utilitarian writing tools do not possess the gravitas that a fountain pen does. Consequently, they cannot channel thoughts, words, or sentences of equal weight.
Yes, using a fountain pen may result in slower, more arduous progress. You may not be as productive — but nothing rich or sturdy is born on the productivity-line conveyor belt.
Rather, the rich and the sturdy are born in the open fields: under natural light, with rain, and through slow, deliberate sowing and cultivation.
2. A Fountain Pen Possesses Heritage
Think of some of the most well-known, impactful figures in history: Winston Churchill, Ernest Hemingway, C.S. Lewis, Charles Spurgeon, and Albert Einstein — who wrote his Theory of Relativity with his Pelikan 100N and Waterman taper-cap, just to name a few.
All of them penned novels, discoveries, and speeches that helped shape the course of the modern world using a fountain pen.
In other words, writing with a fountain pen anchors you in rich tradition and history.
In a hyper-individualistic age, a fountain pen reminds us of a simple truth:
We are products — and stewards — of the past, for better or worse.
With a fountain pen, we write and think humbly, carefully, and with the awareness that — as Christian apologist Francis Schaeffer often emphasized — ideas have consequences.
Because the fountain pen is steeped in heritage and has been the tool of culture-shaping thinkers, it reminds us that we, too, can become an effective and compelling force for lasting change.
As Martin Luther is often credited with saying:
“If you want to change the world, pick up your pen and write.”
3. A Fountain Pen Possesses Stateliness
A few years ago, my wife and I visited Old Louisville, a historic district in Louisville, KY, lined with stunning Victorian-style homes and architecture.
The homes had an imposing, majestic presence — style, elegance, and class — regal, even.
One almost feels the urge to bow before entering, and once inside, you feel small, instantly aware that the world does not revolve around you.
The same is true of a fountain pen. It carries an imposing, regal presence. Yes, there is a subtle, modest beauty, but it is also stately and dignified — reminding us that we are not as impressive as we often believe.
Everything in our modern world seems designed to inflate the ego: to promote self-love, self-actualization, and self-made “truth.”
But the fountain pen, in its quiet regality, seems to say:
“There is a higher King and a sovereign throne beyond you.”
4. A Fountain Pen Possesses Intimacy
If you're looking for convenience, a fountain pen isn’t for you.
You have to regularly clean the nib and refill the ink. Inevitably, a relationship forms between pen and writer. No two fountain pens are the same — each one is unique and requires specific, careful attention.
What’s more, a fountain pen must be used on its own terms; simply dragging it across the page without regard for angle, pressure, or ink flow will lead only to frustration and failure.
In many ways, using a fountain pen reflects the complexity and care — the constant give and take — that real human relationships require.
Writing with a fountain pen is an intimate endeavor, a steady reminder that we cannot approach relationships — marriage, friendship, family — on our own terms, demanding that others conform to our every need, then discarding them or labeling them "toxic" when they don’t.
Fountain pens — like people — embody an old truth: Take care of them, and they’ll take care of you.
5. A Fountain Pen Possesses Legacy
The fifth and final reason I use a fountain pen (and why you should too) is simple: they possess legacy.
In other words, a fountain pen can be passed down as a family heirloom.
I can't pass down my current iPhone to my children or grandchildren. I can’t hand down my already outdated Apple Watch, which slows with every annual update. And I certainly wouldn’t pass down a mass-produced ballpoint pen or a No. 2 Ticonderoga pencil (no offense to No. 2 enthusiasts — they’re reliable workhorses, no doubt).
But I can pass down my fountain pens.
When my descendants see — or even write with — one, they’ll see and feel years of me in them. They’ll hold a legacy that can be handed down from generation to generation.
Of course, you can do this with many other items: a traditional wristwatch, books, a signet ring, tools — things built to last and worth keeping.
But for me, my forest green Conklin Duragraph will represent my convictions, thoughts, lessons learned, prayers, sermon outlines, personal letters, and notes of encouragement written over decades.
In short, my fountain pen will embody the sovereign, gracious, redemptive story God wrote through my life — a sinner like me, once lost and now found.
At the end of the day, my fountain pens will point to the ultimate Penman of my life — the Author of life and salvation: the Lord Jesus Christ.