Pen or pencil

Well…

I wrote this blog title a year ago, and only now am I getting around to it.

Pen or Pencil?

It’s a simple enough question, but one with unexpected depth. Let’s start with the basics.

With a pen, you can’t erase your mistakes unless you reach for a corrector. Every mark, every word, becomes permanent ink on the page. It forces you to think before you write, commit to your ideas, and live with the consequences of each stroke.

With a pencil, all you need is an eraser to undo what you just wrote. Mistakes are easily brushed away. It feels freeing—you can change your mind, rewrite, and adjust with almost no effort. It’s flexible, forgiving.

I’ve always carried a “calpin” (a mix of a notebook and a calendar, in case you’re wondering) with me wherever I go. For years, I wrote with a pen—bold, permanent. But at some point, I made the switch to a pencil, armed with an eraser. The thought of being able to tweak and perfect my words seemed appealing. I could revise every little detail, fix my mistakes, and polish my ideas as I went along.

But here’s the thing: I found myself erasing constantly. I’d jot down a sentence, doubt it, and erase it. Then rewrite, erase, rewrite again. It was so simple to undo my thoughts, to start over. But soon, I realized I was erasing more than I was writing.

Then, one day, I dropped my eraser. It rolled away under my desk, and I couldn’t be bothered to retrieve it. That moment, oddly enough, shifted everything. I could no longer erase my thoughts so easily. I had to be careful, deliberate with each word I put down.

At first, this felt limiting—like I had to get it right the first time, no room for error. But then, something surprising happened. That caution turned into precision. The more careful I was with my words, the clearer my thoughts became. It wasn’t just about putting something down on paper anymore; it was about translating what was in my mind as purely and clearly as possible.

Precision of what, exactly?

Precision of thought. When you know you can’t easily erase, you think more intentionally. You become more aware of the weight of your words. Writing becomes an act of clarity, of distilling the mess of ideas in your mind into something sharp, something meaningful.

So, pen or pencil? It’s not really about the tool itself, but about what you’re trying to achieve. A pen forces you to be present, committed. A pencil gives you freedom to revise and rethink.

Both have their place. But sometimes, precision—knowing that what you write will stay there—brings a different kind of clarity.

Which one will you choose?