Stationery addict
Novelist Milly Johnson reveals why she owes everything to the tools of her trade
My name is Milly Johnson, I’m 60 years old and I am a stationery addict. There is, oddly, no accepted term for people like me. The closest is ‘papyrophiliac’, which means someone addicted to paper, but my passion extends far beyond that because I love all stationery: pens, scissors, wax seals, writing slopes with their secret compartments. We need a word for us because we are legion.
Who can’t remember King Charles having a mini meltdown over a leaky ink pen at the beginning of his reign? It’s of paramount importance we have the right stationery for the right job.
I’ve always coveted stationery. As a child, the first place I headed for at the weekend was to blow my pocket money on ring binders, Quink and Bambi staples.
I never questioned it then. Only recently have I wondered why a new stationery purchase is catnip for me. Maybe, on a subconscious level, it makes me think of new, promising beginnings – being prepared and organised. I make handwritten lists constantly.
My diary has to be an unlined Moleskine, extra large. The paper is smooth, the layout is perfect, it’s too big to lose and, at around
€30, it doesn’t break the bank. I’m sure a psychologist could unpick my behaviour – and also why the most striking of my notepads sit in a glass cabinet, because I can’t bring myself to use these sacred treasures. A psychologist might also explain why I’ve just spent 70 quid on a pencil sharpener.
It’s from a brand called Hovel, is made of 90 beautiful grams of solid brass set on a walnut base and it sends me into a hypnotic trance of delight when I use it. There is nothing like writing with a freshly sharpened pencil. Unless it’s writing with a €700 Caran d’Ache Varius Ivanhoe silver mechanical pencil, which I don’t own. Yet.
As an author, I often have to sign hundreds of books in one sitting and the pens have to feel right in my hand: not too weighty, but substantial with a good ink flow. I use robust Mole Mate ballpens, sometimes a Parker fountain, often a Sharpie for a splashy signature. For letters – yes, I still write them – I use a Scriveiner ink pen with an extra-fine nib. It glides over the hammered paper – envelopes always to match. You’ll never find me typing a round robin letter at Christmas; if someone is important enough to write to with news, they deserve it to be handwritten.
Luckily, I have an antiques dealer fiancé who indulges my ardour. Through him, I have acquired a magnificent pair of Asprey scissors; an art nouveau ‘rocker blotter’ for mopping excess ink; and a Tiffany pen with matching silver bookmark. A few years ago, he bought me a Montblanc Meisterstück ballpoint pen. When I showed it off to my dad, he was horrified at how much the refills would cost. (They’re not actually that expensive – around €17 for two.)
Though my dad did like a good, more modestly priced pen himself. One of my most treasured possessions is a red Parker ink pen that he gave me to do my school exams with. I did my degree with it too, and I signed my first book contracts with it. To this day, if an important document needs a signature, I use that red Parker. It’s the one I’ll use to sign my deal with Netflix (we live in hope).
I’m a great believer in craftspeople having the best tools for their trade. You wouldn’t have found Leonardo da Vinci drawing Vitruvian Man with a pop-a-point pencil. And every time I start a novel, I have a ritual of cleaning my office from top to bottom and buying a notepad. (It would be unthinkable to use one already in my possession.) With my most recent, The Happiest Ever After,
I used a notebook from Lulu Guinness. I type my manuscripts, but the notebook is where I write down ideas and memos-to-self – the colour of a character’s hair, a killer line. If I have too many ideas for one book, I transfer the unused thoughts to a ‘spares’ notepad and use them in another story. Nothing is ever wasted.
Even though my passion might be bats to some, I have 21 novels out there, every one of them still in print – so whatever
I’m doing is obviously working. Readers, I am convinced
I owe it all to stationery.
A NEW NOTEBOOK MAKES ME THINK OF PROMISING BEGINNINGS
The Happiest Ever After by Milly Johnson is published by
Simon & Schuster and out now,
€23.79. Also on eBook and audio