When I pick up certain pens to take a message or to jot a note to myself, I get the sudden itch to write. Usually this happens when I simply don't have time to devote to literary greatness. When the opportunity presents itself, though, there are a certain amount of pages I can write before my hand gets tired, at which point I decide to do something else. What a baby. I was watching "Pride and Prejudice" (the Firth version, sounds like I'm lisping) and I noticed how many times a writer in Austen's time would have to dip their pen into the inkwell whilst writing a letter. Sometimes this happened a few times in a sentence! How did anyone write full books in those days?
How spoiled we are now, with our laptops and soft touch keyboards. How can we not write when inspired? Still, I do love the feeling of a fine pen on actual paper. It's lovely.