![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK0ciaL5nsAmH5bbaFUQ5QTrWmWfPgJeHUhHStmVuADZVTU5CcDa-StFAawNjm2kB9Mg7N8XYvJ1vQJEBGLpRIzlLnpegZssoBupq-4Xtn1_mcUrjU0PhbEpKQteCVNWN6Jv9fi7YOEoU/s200/doodles+feb+08+001.jpg)
I'm beginning to suspect that my fountain pen is really not full of ink but something else. A dark, gritty swirl of God-knows-what*, often threatening, sometimes disarming, cuter than death, definitely tickly.
What's in your pen?
*God-knows-what is also a great name for a chapter. So says Mary DeYon, who is writing a memoir summed up thusly: shy Catholic girl becomes bad-ass salesman.