In Praise of the Pencil

6 Reasons I Still Use Pencils...and the 6 Pencils I Use Most Often

“It’s a poor craftsman who blames his tools.”

That maxim has always bothered me.¹ It seems to imply that if someone is a real craftsman he should be able to overcome any impediment: a dull blade, shoddy materials, inferior ingredients. In my experience, good craftspeople are more concerned about their tools, not less. They prefer to buy quality tools, care for the tools they already own, and fix or improve the ones that need it. Tools are an extension of the maker’s mind and hand—and sometimes the instruments of her very livelihood—and she tends to them accordingly.

It’s also been my experience that using good tools can make projects turn out better because they are so much more enjoyable to use. As a writer who writes nearly all his early drafts by hand, the tools of my trade include pencils, pens, and paper. Because I spend so much time writing by hand I’m unapologetic about wanting to use good tools. While I don’t believe I’m capable of writing the elusive Great American Novel, if I was, I’d like to think I could write it using even a package of badly made, foil-wrapped novelty pencils I bought from the dollar store. But I’d rather try to write that book without getting distracted by a pencil that is scratchy, warped, too soft, impossible to sharpen, incapable of holding a point, and ugly.

Besides, there are so many fantastic pencils available, why would I settle for using a bad one?

Loony Tunes animator Chuck Jones using his Blackwing pencil [Image source]. Disney animator Shamus Culhane asked to be buried with his Blackwing.

People are often surprised to learn I still write with pencils. (“You’re not in the fourth grade anymore…what gives?”) John Steinbeck called his obsession with pencils his harmless eccentricity. There may be some of that for me too. But there are also several practical and philosophical considerations.

Today I want to share six reasons I still use pencils. Then I will share the six pencils I use most often. I’ll close with some thoughts on why I believe using good analog tools is an act of resistance against the dehumanizing ambitions of the Machine. Good pencils are better than we remember. They are also more interesting, and, I believe, more powerful than we realized.

6 Reasons I Still Use Pencils

Reason #1. Pencils aren’t connected to the Internet.

Every writer I know—and me above all—is looking for reasons not to write. We’re prone to procrastination and distraction. Suddenly we care about how neat our desk is. We wander through our bookshelves. We look for inspiration at the coffee shop, in our backyard, in front of the TV, on Instagram.

The Internet, in particular, is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it gives me access to the store of all recorded human knowledge. On the other, it seduces me with up-to-the-second updates on spring training, new YouTube videos, and breaking news out of Washington. Checking my email for the twentieth time suddenly feels urgent.

Some people can stay focused while writing on a computer connected to the Internet. I can’t. I might be persuaded to use a focus app like Freedom if the following five things weren’t also true.

Reason #2. Pencils can be taken anywhere.

I keep a pen or a bullet pencil with me wherever I go. On a hike, on a bike ride, in line, in a meeting, waiting for a friend in a restaurant, etc. I use a pencil and a pocket notebook to brainstorm, capture inspiration, doodle, make lists, write myself reminders, work out a knotty creative problem, write some scraps of poetry, or come up with word games. I could pull out my phone to do all this. But the phone isn’t as pleasurable to use (see below), and again it’s too easy for me to get sucked into Instagram, The New York Times, or YouTube. (I really do have very little self-control.)

Reason #3. Pencils spur creativity.

There are certain things you can’t do with a pencil and paper…and that’s a good thing.

Constraints encourage creativity. This is true in many areas of life. The poet, the conscientious farmer, and a married couple submit themselves, respectively, to the poetic form, the limits of the soil, and the marriage covenant. Pushing too far beyond those boundaries drains vitality and creativity, or worse.

According to David Sax, author of The Revenge of Analog, one of the reasons we’re witnessing a resurgence of vinyl records, film photography, stationery, and brick-and-mortar retail, is that artists and consumers alike are recognizing the power of limitations. Sax quotes Chris Mara, a veteran recording engineer and the co-owner of Nashville’s Welcome to 1979 recording studio: “People think limitations are a bad thing. But it moves the process forward, in a good way. You can easily get lost in the process. It’s easier to stick to the plan when you have limitations.”

In a chapter called “The Revenge of Paper,” Sax says “the physical constraints of a blank page present a certain creative freedom.” To illustrate this paradox, he tells the story of global branding agency Landor Associates. Years ago, every designer in the Milan office of Landor Associates received Adobe’s Photoshop software. “Overnight, the quality of their designs seemed to decline.” After a few months of this, the firm gave all the designers Moleskine notebooks, and forbade the use of Photoshop during the first week of a project. “The idea was to let their initial ideas freely blossom on paper, without the inherent bias of the software, before transferring them to the computer later for fine-tuning. It was so successful, this policy remains in place today.”

So much writing happens inside one’s head that I like the contrasting materiality of pencil and paper. As it turns out, a growing body of research finds that handwriting has cognitive as well as creative benefits. Handwriting engages the brain’s motor, visual, and memory networks more deeply than typing. Studies suggest that children who write letters by hand retain and understand them better than those who only type, and adults taking handwritten notes often process information more deeply than when typing. This has certainly been the case for me.

Reason #4. Pencils are a tactile pleasure.

Simply put, I enjoy the physical experience of writing with a good pencil. That’s important, since it’s not unusual for me to spend several hours writing by hand. I can’t stress enough how different the experience is between writing with a high-quality pencil and using one of the crappy No. 2s we were given in elementary school. Once you’ve spent enough time writing with pencils you begin to notice small but important differences between them. You notice balance and weight, how soft or hard the graphite is, or the unusually sharp angles of a certain hexagonal pencil. You develop a preference for lighter or darker lines, for a smoother or scratchier writing experience, for thick lacquers or natural finishes.

Reason #5. Pencils work(ed) for my favorite writers.

Some of my favorite writers used pencils, which makes me want to use them too.

John Steinbeck used a version of the Palomino Blackwing pencil described below when he was writing East of Eden, sharpening 24 of them at a time. Steinbeck wrote of the Blackwing:

I have found a new kind of pencil—the best I have ever had. Of course it costs three times as much too but it is black and soft but doesn’t break off. I think I will always use these. They are called Blackwings and they really glide over the paper.

Ernest Hemingway’s description of writing in a Paris café is one of the truest paragraphs I’ve ever read about writing tools (and writing inspirations):

I took out a notebook from the pocket of the coat and a pencil and started to write...A girl came in the cafe and sat by herself at a table near the window. She was very pretty with a face fresh as a newly minted coin...I watched the girl whenever I looked up, or when I sharpened the pencil with a pencil sharpener with the shavings curling into the saucer under my drink. I’ve seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil.

My favorite writer is Wendell Berry. In a 1987 essay called “Why I am Not Going to Buy a Computer,” Berry laid out the nine criteria he uses to decide when to upgrade his tools—whether those tools are for writing, farming, or other work:

1. The new tool should be cheaper than the one it replaces.

2. It should be at least as small in scale as the one it replaces.

3. It should do work that is clearly and demonstrably better than the one it replaces.

4. It should use less energy than the one it replaces.

5. If possible, it should use some form of solar energy, such as that of the body.

6. It should be repairable by a person of ordinary intelligence, provided that he or she has the necessary tools.

7. It should be purchasable and repairable as near to home as possible.

8. It should come from a small, privately owned shop or store that will take it back for maintenance and repair.

9. It should not replace or disrupt anything good that already exists, and this includes family and community relationships.

For Berry, computers had been weighed and found wanting. He uses a pencil or pen and a piece of paper.

Reason #6. Pencils work for me.

Writing is how I make sense of the world and my place in it. I think I’ve known this since I was six years old. What I’ve learned more recently is to trust the process. The physical act of putting pencil to paper is my “on switch.” If I can get past the procrastination, past the distractions, past the fear and the excuses, and just start writing—something will happen.

So beyond the grand statements, philosophical treatises, or the romance of literary tradition, it ultimately comes down to this: pencils work for me. The paradox of using pencils is that they slow me down and they make me more productive.

6 Pencils I Use

If you like pencils too, or if you want to see how good wooden pencils can be, here are six I recommend. I will often have more than just these six in my pencil case, but these are the models I go to most often. (Note: Writing samples are towards the end.)

TIER 1

These two pencils are my absolute favorites…and my workhorses. When I start a new book project, as I did recently, I buy two dozen of each.

1. Mitsubishi Hi-Uni HB

Not only does the Mitsubishi Hi-Uni HB [Try one] write beautifully, it looks beautiful (especially the red of the exposed cedar), and it is an absolute pleasure to hold in your hand. It’s balanced and the lacquer on the pencil feels thick and soft. I can use it all day without getting tired. A lead grade of “HB” is the equivalent of the familiar No. 2 pencil; it’s the sweet spot between Hardness (H) and Blackness (B). Selling for $23 a dozen, these pencils—and the Blackwings below—are expensive. But these tools are so important to my writing life that I don’t mind paying more for quality. Like many non-U.S. pencils, the Japanese-made Hi-Uni HB doesn’t come with an eraser. It pairs well with a Pentel Hi-Polymer White Cap Eraser or a Tombow Mono small eraser.

2. Palomino Blackwing 602

The Blackwing 602 made me fall in love with pencils 15 years ago. Blackwings are recognizable by their distinctive flared ferrules, the metal caps that hold the erasers. For decades, Blackwings were a favorite of creators like John Steinbeck, Stephen Sondheim, Truman Capote, Leonard Bernstein, and Chuck Jones. (I’ve noticed characters using them in episodes of Mad Men.) But the storied pencil was discontinued in the 1990s. In 2010, California Cedar bought the trademark and began manufacturing the Blackwing again, using California incense-cedar and high-quality Japanese graphite. Blackwings are longer than most pencils, and for the first few sharpenings they may feel slightly out of balance until you get used to them. Push through. Within a day or two, the extra weight of the larger eraser and ferrule actually help the pencil nestle perfectly into the crook of your hand.

Blackwings are permanently available in four versions, featuring different finishes and different lead grades: soft, medium, firm, and extra-firm. I prefer the firm 602, which comes emblazoned with the slogan, “HALF THE PRESSURE, TWICE THE SPEED.” It’s slightly softer than an HB pencil and writes a bit darker than the Mitsubishi above. These pencils aren’t cheap, though. At $34 per dozen, you are paying a premium price for premium tools. Note: Palomino also releases quarterly limited editions of the Blackwing.

TIER 2

3. Palomino Blackwing Matte

The Blackwing Matte is the softest of the Blackwing pencils. As you can guess, the finish is a lovely matte black. Like the 602 above, they are extra long, with a flared ferrule and gold accents. They are also $34 (!) per dozen. Because they are so soft you’ll be sharpening these a lot more often. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing; you’ll feel like you’re making progress on your writing project!

4. Viking Element 1 HB

The Viking Element 1, a Danish import, is balanced and buttery smooth. The matte black finish is so pretty, as is the box they come in. If a Viking used a pencil, it would definitely be this one. I use the Element 1, which doesn’t have an eraser. The Element 2 does have an eraser but they are harder to find in the States. I’ll be in Denmark in June and I hope to find a couple dozen to restock.

TIER 3

5. Mitsubishi 9850 HB

The newest addition to my list, I’ve been using the Mitsubishi 9850 HB [Try one] quite a bit the last few weeks. The Hi-Uni HB (above) seems to write a bit darker than this 9850, and it feels more premium, but the 9850 is quite nice. The burgundy finish is pretty. It also has a fantastic eraser. Plus, at less than half the price of the Hi-Unis, you won’t feel bad about some of these 9850s ending up in your kids’ art box or the junk drawer or disappearing to wherever it is that lost pencils go.

TIER 4: I CAN’T QUIT YOU

6. General’s Cedar Pointe #2

Once upon a time, the General’s Cedar Pointe #2 was firmly in my top five, but it’s been nudged out in recent years. It’s not even the best all-natural pencil (Musgrave Tennessee Red? Blackwing Natural?). And yet I keep reaching for the modestly-priced, American-made, all-natural Cedar Pointe. I like the natural wood finish, though it’s a bit rough, and I like how the pencil gradually turns darker from the oils in my hands. I even like how it smells. It writes with a smooth, dark line. The graphite doesn’t smear and it erases well. There is an interesting history of pencil-making in the United States—a history that includes the family of Henry David Thoreau—but there are few American pencil manufacturers today. I’m happy that a pencil as good as the Cedar Pointe is still being made here.

Writing samples inside the Field Notes “Snowy Evening” edition. You can see the softer Blackwings write darker than the others.

Testing the erasers inside the Field Notes “Snowy Evening” edition. For pencils without erasers—the Hi-Uni HB and the Viking Element—I used the Pentel Hi-Polymer White Cap eraser.

How I Sharpen Pencils

A whole book has been written about the art of sharpening pencils. I keep it simple. I have one hand crank pencil sharpener, the Mitsubishi Uni KH-20, in my writing shed, and another, the CARL Angel-5, inside the house. I keep a Blackwing Two-Step Long Point Sharpener in my bag.

Where I Buy Pencils

The Blackwings are easy to find, thank goodness. They are carried by many bookstores, including Powell’s and Barnes & Noble, as well as most art supply stores. Pencils.com is the online storefront of California Cedar Products Company, the company that makes all the Palomino products. They are also available on Amazon.

Yet I buy most of my pencils from JetPens. This site has an amazing collection of pencils and pens, specializing in Japanese products. Don’t want to purchase a dozen without trying them first? JetPens often lets you buy singles. They also have a wooden pencil sampler pack that includes a couple of the pencils I’ve mentioned, along with the Tombow Mono, a popular pencil that hasn’t cracked my list yet.

In Praise of the Analog

This won’t be my last post about pencils and stationery in 2026. (But please don’t unsubscribe!) From time to time I will share a few pieces about pencils, pens, paper and notebooks, and the like.

Is my love for analog tools just my harmless eccentricity, as Steinbeck described it? If so it’s not only that.

Twenty-five years ago, Wendell Berry wrote that “It is easy for me to imagine that the next great division of the world will be between people who wish to live as creatures and people who wish to live as machines.” The Orthodox writer Paul Kingsnorth picked up this theme in a recent essay for Plough magazine: “The digital revolution is increasingly coming to look like a spiritual crisis,” he wrote. Kingsnorth compares the present moment to the story of the Fall in Genesis 3:

As we attempt to build intelligent machines that will lead, in the eyes of their utopian builders, to the end of death and the conquest of the universe, we find ourselves back in the Garden of Eden, eating the apple daily, attempting to become “as gods, knowing good and evil.”

Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt has likened the effects of social media to a different Genesis story, the Tower of Babel, with “people wandering amid the ruins, unable to communicate, condemned to mutual incomprehension.”

Opening a notebook instead of unlocking my phone is a small (and enjoyable!) way of clawing back part of my creatureliness from the Machine. Any time spent writing with a pencil is less time spent in front of a screen. And while acknowledging that the pencil has become a classic example of globalization, using analog tools helps connect me to my work, the material world, my body, my humanity, and even my soul.

I want to live as a creature in this beautiful, broken, and blessed Real World. So on top of the practical and aesthetic reasons I listed above, writing with a pencil feels like a small act of resistance.

1. The origin of this proverb goes back to at least 13th-century French: “Mauveés ovriers ne trovera ja bon hostill,” or “A bad workman will never find a good tool.” This is a version I can get behind, implying more clearly that a bad craftsman will always blame the tool rather than take responsibility for his own mistakes or shortcomings.