

on writing
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A Writer's Comfort Tools
Sep 24, 2025


Kerouac famously wrote On the Road on a single scroll of paper. Odd as it sounds, his method made him comfortable enough to get the words out. I’m not suggesting you unearth some prehistoric Xerox paper and do the same, but it shows how far writers will go to feel settled enough to work.
Writing, like any art, tethers imagination to the physical world. The movie in your mind needs a stage, and pen and paper are the simplest set. Over the years, I’ve learned my tools don’t make me a better writer, but they do make me a more comfortable one — and that comfort is what lets the work flow.
I keep notebooks for every occasion: some for notes, some for journal entries, others for half-baked 2 A.M. ideas. Compartmentalizing my process gives me control and confidence when it’s time to write. At the heart of it all are two tools every writer knows: the pen and the pad.
The Pen
Daily Driver
The first time I tried a MUJI rollerball, I hated it. A friend swore by them, bought me a ten-pack, and I tossed them in a drawer. Months later, out of options, I gave one another shot — and I haven’t used another pen since. The MUJI 0.5 tip glides smoothly, dries fast, and never tears thin paper. Its translucent body lets you track ink, and refills are cheap. At about $2 each, they’re reliable and long-lasting. My only gripe: the clip is useless. The cap will vanish, but the ink at least won’t dry out.
Quick Strikes
A Sharpie is always in my bag. It’s perfect for scribbling fast notes when form doesn’t matter or for scrawling reminders big enough to read without squinting. It’s messy, but it gets the thought out of your head and onto the page.
Clean Up
The pencil is every writer’s shield. If the pen strikes down ideas, the pencil lets you start over. I use Paper Mate SharpWriters — cheap, refillable, forgiving. Mechanical pencils usually extend lead with the eraser, but these twist at the tip, so you’re not smashing your work mid-edit. At about 37 cents each, they’re unglamorous but essential.
The Pad
Note Scribbler
The yellow legal pad is my 2 A.M. savior. Cheap, bright enough to ease eye strain, and light enough to keep by the bed. Jot, rip, and clip your notes. Disposable, but indispensable.
Traveler
The composition notebook screams “first day of school,” but its cardboard covers make it a rugged travel companion. At 100 sheets each, bought in bulk, they’re among the cheapest ways to corral ideas. I dedicate each to one project — essay, story, or script — so I can keep thoughts organized and contained.
Sentimentalist
When I want beauty in the process, I pull out my Paper Republic Grand Voyageur leather journal. Slim, modular, handmade in Vienna, it wears with age and feels like a companion on the road. I use it mostly for personal writing, noting the dates I start and finish each insert. At $68 plus refills, it’s expensive, but sometimes aesthetics set the right mood.
In Closing
There you have it — the pens and pads that keep me writing. If you were expecting a list of boutique curiosities, sorry. I’ve fallen for plenty of “writer gear” ads, but style never beats practicality. If you’re more focused on looking like a writer than becoming one, the work suffers. Let your words carry the beauty. Let your tools give you comfort. Kerouac had his scroll; I have my pens and pads. Find whatever helps you roll into your own writing.
Kerouac famously wrote On the Road on a single scroll of paper. Odd as it sounds, his method made him comfortable enough to get the words out. I’m not suggesting you unearth some prehistoric Xerox paper and do the same, but it shows how far writers will go to feel settled enough to work.
Writing, like any art, tethers imagination to the physical world. The movie in your mind needs a stage, and pen and paper are the simplest set. Over the years, I’ve learned my tools don’t make me a better writer, but they do make me a more comfortable one — and that comfort is what lets the work flow.
I keep notebooks for every occasion: some for notes, some for journal entries, others for half-baked 2 A.M. ideas. Compartmentalizing my process gives me control and confidence when it’s time to write. At the heart of it all are two tools every writer knows: the pen and the pad.
The Pen
Daily Driver
The first time I tried a MUJI rollerball, I hated it. A friend swore by them, bought me a ten-pack, and I tossed them in a drawer. Months later, out of options, I gave one another shot — and I haven’t used another pen since. The MUJI 0.5 tip glides smoothly, dries fast, and never tears thin paper. Its translucent body lets you track ink, and refills are cheap. At about $2 each, they’re reliable and long-lasting. My only gripe: the clip is useless. The cap will vanish, but the ink at least won’t dry out.
Quick Strikes
A Sharpie is always in my bag. It’s perfect for scribbling fast notes when form doesn’t matter or for scrawling reminders big enough to read without squinting. It’s messy, but it gets the thought out of your head and onto the page.
Clean Up
The pencil is every writer’s shield. If the pen strikes down ideas, the pencil lets you start over. I use Paper Mate SharpWriters — cheap, refillable, forgiving. Mechanical pencils usually extend lead with the eraser, but these twist at the tip, so you’re not smashing your work mid-edit. At about 37 cents each, they’re unglamorous but essential.
The Pad
Note Scribbler
The yellow legal pad is my 2 A.M. savior. Cheap, bright enough to ease eye strain, and light enough to keep by the bed. Jot, rip, and clip your notes. Disposable, but indispensable.
Traveler
The composition notebook screams “first day of school,” but its cardboard covers make it a rugged travel companion. At 100 sheets each, bought in bulk, they’re among the cheapest ways to corral ideas. I dedicate each to one project — essay, story, or script — so I can keep thoughts organized and contained.
Sentimentalist
When I want beauty in the process, I pull out my Paper Republic Grand Voyageur leather journal. Slim, modular, handmade in Vienna, it wears with age and feels like a companion on the road. I use it mostly for personal writing, noting the dates I start and finish each insert. At $68 plus refills, it’s expensive, but sometimes aesthetics set the right mood.
In Closing
There you have it — the pens and pads that keep me writing. If you were expecting a list of boutique curiosities, sorry. I’ve fallen for plenty of “writer gear” ads, but style never beats practicality. If you’re more focused on looking like a writer than becoming one, the work suffers. Let your words carry the beauty. Let your tools give you comfort. Kerouac had his scroll; I have my pens and pads. Find whatever helps you roll into your own writing.
