My fifty-first journal was named as a result of an exhausting debate over the future of my journal writing practice; handwritten or typewritten? It was a crossroads most difficult to decide upon because this decision would be a lifetime commitment. Final.
Birthright, my fiftieth journal, witnessed this decision.
Its expiration was the milestone. I was the main character in a role-playing game. The decision before me: choose one path to specialize in. The Calligrapher (a handwritten future for my journals) bestowed upon me the ability to wield the most elegant of writing utensils: the fountain pen. The Wordsmith (a typewritten future for my journals) bestowed upon me the ability to wield the most productive of writing utensils: the manual typewriter.
Faced with this fictional drama, it was easy to decide.
I’ve not looked back since.