My two old and trusted pencils have finally reached the end of their working lives and, with much sadness, well, a touch of sadness, I’m going to thank them and put them into retirement. The exciting news is that I’m going to start up a new relationship with a brand new pencil. It’s an intimate thing the partnership between anyone who writes and their writing implements, and pencils, I think are the most personal,  so this is a moment to recognise and I put away finished work and begin some new projects.

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Today is National Poetry Day here in the UK, so I thought I’d mark it – as I did yesterday, by working on a new poem. I tried to do what mostly works for me when tackling a new project. I cleared my desk, cleared my mind and let some ideas flow. I never know, of course, if those ideas are any good or not but that’s the excitement and frustration of attempting this challenging and exposing form of writing. So, yesterday, for example, I followed my plan. The desk is cleared, the computer purring and the sunshine is pouring through my window. I go downstairs to make some coffee, in my favourite green-handled mug, and decide, I won’t go back upstairs after-all.  Spontaneously, I sat at a downstairs table with my coffee, a pencil and a pad of blank paper. It’s all you need and, if, you’re not a coffee addict like me, you just need the pencil and paper.

It worked for me –  the beginnings of a new poem gradually made its way onto that blank sheet of paper and I then brought it back upstairs to that little room that I had to pains-takingly prepared for the task. All I would say, dear readers, is if you want to write a poem, just write it – anywhere, on anything you can find, with anything that will leave a mark. Just don’t  put if off. Why not write a poem today, on National Poetry Day.

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I own a number of pens, ball point, felt-tip and fountain, and they all have their function in my life. Also, a lot of my time is spent at the computer and I’m perfectly happy typing away all day. There is, however, a special relationship in my working life and that is the bond between me and my pencil. There is something especially intimate and natural about writing poetry with a pencil and I have a number of little note books which I keep with me and where I do exactly that. Over the last few years I’ve written over seventy Fibonacci poems, many of them published in the specialist Fibonacci poetry journal, The Fib Review,  http://www.musepiepress.com/fibreview/ and most of them begin life in this rain-spattered book. It’s interesting sometimes to look back and see how these little syllable-count poems began.

I have a number of pencils but the one in the photograph has been companion for some time now and, silly though it might sound, I’ve grown attached to it. I feel that we know each other very well and I respect the way it puts up with my terrible hand-writing and the often intense pressure I put on it when I write.  It is also tolerant about being chewed during those thoughtful moments when, in olden times, I might well have simply lit a cigarette. So this little pencil and I are friends.

I have my rather superior pencil sharpener too – it’s a souvenir from the Peggy Guggenheim Museum in Venice and, over time, it has sharpened but also whittled down my pencil many times a day until now I’m brought to a sad moment of parting.

My old friend is now getting so small that I fear it’s reaching the end of its working life. Just how much smaller can I make it before it ceases to function as a writing implement? What do you think? Is it time to chuck it? Should I retire it to the back of my stationery drawer or just throw it into the bin? I have plenty more pencils so I should stop being sentimental perhaps.

Recently I was given a posh Edwardian propelling pencil as a birthday present. It’s made of silver and is elegantly ornamented so it’s the type of pencil that should be used on special occasions like noting down a telephone number, scribbling an aide-memoire, making a light-handed and desultory doodle or, best of all, it’s perfect when I’m in the mood to write a gentle and thoughtful poem conceived in tranquillity. If I’m in my usual writing gusto though, the leads just break on first contact with the paper.

No, my little pencil does that job best but I know that I am going to have to make a decision. Which of these lovely new pencils, another present, should I choose next? It’s an important moment because whichever it is, it might be with me for a long time and through many writing adventures – both good and bad. Farewell little pencil.

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I was in London for my monthly date with Camden-Lumen Poetry on Friday and so I spent some time on the Lewes to London Victoria train (about an hour) – a perfectly pleasant journey from rural Sussex through the many outer skirts of South London and over the always inspiring vista of the River Thames to Victoria Station itself, famous as the location for Miss Prism’s lost novel in Oscar Wilde’s play The Importance of Being Earnest. I had some writing in my “handbag” too but luckily I didn’t lose it. I often use that hour on the train as Fibonacci poetry writing time.

I was given a small doodling book some time ago and it always travels with me, as you can probably see by its rain blotched cover. I’ve been sketching poetry in it for a few years now so it has turned into not just a sketch pad but a record of poetical ideas in their earliest stages that either came off or that didn’t. I always take a small pencil case containing pencils, a rubber (eraser) and a pencil sharpener too. With these tools, I never really fear being stranded on a broken down train – it would only be a stolen writing opportunity. So I was just fine on Friday night – the journey sped by very pleasantly.

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I think I must be an odd mix of high-tech and low-tech because my writing routine involves my beloved i-Mac computer, of course, but I often resort to that most enjoyable and trouble-free pieces of technology, the lead pencil – preferably unpainted – a simple but magic stick. My terrible, left-handed, writing seems to suit the pencil when the ball-point pen sends it into the most abstract of illegibilities. Pencil-scribbling followed by manic keyboard typing is my way and there is a lot of pleasure in both techniques especially if you take mildly obsessive delight in such things.

I watched this music video, ‘Against The Grain’ earlier today and even though the music, from Australian band Hudson’s Kaleidoscope might not be profoundly original (it’s pleasant, melancholy and catchy enough for this wolf), the video, starring an epic cast of pencils is pure delight for anyone into such things. Oh yes and in case you are wondering, I am the little blue one.

Hudson’s Kaleidoscope – Against The Grain:

Hudson – Against The Grain from Dropbear on Vimeo.

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