I recently chanced upn an opinion piece from The New Yorker, written in 2012 by former staffer Mary Norris, about her pursuit of the perfect pencil.
While ultimately she landed upon the Palimino Blackwing, which is a wonderful pencil, she made a statement in her piece that has set me back: "Someone at the office suggested I try a mechanical pencil, but I found it soulless."
I am sure that there are plenty of pencils in this world, not to mention mechanical pencils, that are difficult to find a personal connection with. That said, I am saddened by such a blanket statement. Who would say such a thing about a pencil?
To Mary Norris, author of My Life in Pencils, if you are ever googling yourself and happen upon this, I would like to introduce you to my pencil soul mate. It is a mechanical pencil. It is the Alvin Draftmatic.
I have written many thousands of pages with an Alvin Draftmatic, so I know it well. I prefer a bold line, so I use a 0.9mm lead, and I change out my lead based upon the weather conditions and the type of the paper I am writing on.
The Alvin Draftmatic has many fine qualities:
It is the exact proper weight, size and dimension for my hand.
The plastic barrel warms slightly while being used and feels like an extension of my mind, not a tool.
The knurling is perfectly milled and does not cause calluses on my fingers, even with extensive use for days (or weeks, or months) on end.
The clip is easy to remove (I don't want a clip on my pencil at all).
If the paper is right, I am using a good wooden clipboard, I am comfortably seated, and I have the proper lead, I can write for hours in complete joy without hand fatigue.
I trust this pencil. I have used it for years and it has not failed. The mechanism has not broken. The pencil is solid, sturdy and dependable.
Finally, it is a pleasure to write with.
In my view, that is the making of a pencil soul mate.
Not all mechanical pencils are created equal. The Alvin Draftmatic is a mechanical pencil with heart and soul.
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