Now With More Backstory!

Remember the days when you could pick up a free pen at the bank? Like those umbrellas George Costanza takes from canisters just inside the door of diners, libraries, and retail establishments? Ah…the salad days of pen procurement, before they were chained down like frigates anticipating a nor’easter before deployment.

Not only must we buy our pens now, but they come with their own story. Like svelte, ink-piddling Cabbage Patch Dolls. I had no idea until yesterday, when I bought adopted the newest additions to my writing family, a package deal of ebony octuplets. Little was I aware that their foster family, the PaperMates, had an agenda. And that the little squirts had a story:

The InkJoy Story

Our mission was simple: To develop a revolutionary ink system that would give you the best in effortless writing. We wanted to give you a pen that starts quickly without dragging, requires minimal pressure from your hand, and delivers crisp, clean lines every time. But most of all, we wanted to bring back the joy of writing, so it felt right to call it InkJoy. We hope that you feel the joy whenever you write with an InkJoy pen. Share your InkJoy experiences with us at papermate.com to receive special offers.

Yeah. Right there on the back of the package. And it’s also in French: L’histoire de InkJoy.

I will admit that those octuplets are smooth. Not that I write with them all at once. But here’s the catch. They are…how you say…um…not wanting to send them into the throes of anorexia…a bit on the portly side. I am used to those clogging, recalcitrant WriteBrothers. Though stick-thin, they leave a bit to be desired in ink joy. Their ink is as clotty as Val’s blood last May.

One thing I’ll say for those WriteBrothers: they wear a cap well. In fact, their cap lends itself to other uses, notably being to dig into one’s ear when there’s an itch that a pinky-finger can’t reach. It’s like an extra-long, pencil-thin bill on their cap. The InkJoys, on the other hand, wear a cap like Gilligan. It’s jammed onto their penheads with no appreciable sticking-out-ness. The clip-on part of the cap is flat, and lays alongside the cap itself. No jutting out for ear-reaming. And that clip had a little flare at the end, like That Girl Marlo Thomas’s hair flip.

But getting back to the stockiness of these husky InkJoys...they are a handful. Hard to grip. Val is not a ham-fisted giant, fee-fie-foe-fumming all willy-nilly throughout the livelong day. She has normal hands. The smoky clear hard plastic is difficult to grip. It feels like three sides, but actually has six sides, with a little bevel between each of the three main surfaces. Val does not want to grip a prism while she writes. Her wrist tendons are screaming out with carpal tunnel syndrome every time she picks up one of those big boys.

I will not send back my new octuplets. So they're a bit hefty and thick, and not good for excavating ear wax. They have a story to tell, by cracky!

Yeah. I really like the way those InkJoys roll.