So how does a writer write without a pen?
The oddest thing happened to me yesterday. I went into my purse to retreive my thumb drive (on which resides The Book), and my fairly new silver swirly celtic pen from Wales popped out (it usually rests atop my thumb drive) and fell from the counter.
A space/time vortex opened up and the pen never hit the floor. I looked. Five times. I looked under the fridge. I looked in the drawer (that was closed and had remained closed until I opened it), I looked on the counter. Under the bottles, in the bin. No pen. I even used a flashlight in case it’s beautiful silvery-ness would reflect its location and I could save it from the doom that many pens fear – the dreaded flannel pocket of vacuity.
Obviously I’m not the first to lose a pen, but it was a first for me to lose a pen in this manner. Space/time vortecies usually don’t open up in my house between the top of the counter on which my purse sits and the floor where my shoes were discarded.

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A writer without a pen uses her computer, as usual. Darn it, I liked that pen!