How a Handmade Pen Is Made – From Blank to Finished Pen

There is something rather satisfying about taking a simple block of material and turning it into a pen.

At the beginning, it doesn't look much like a pen at all.

It might be a piece of beautiful wood, a colourful acrylic blank, a block of resin, or one of the many unusual materials I use in my workshop. At this stage, it is essentially a small rectangular lump with potential.

By the end, hopefully, it is something someone wants to pick up and write with.

Getting from one to the other involves a fair amount of machinery, patience, sanding, polishing and, occasionally, wondering why I thought making pens was a sensible way to spend my time.

Here's how I do it.

Step 1: Choosing the Material

Before I switch on a single machine, I have to decide what the pen is going to be made from.

This is one of my favourite parts of making pens because the possibilities are almost endless.

I work with materials including:

• Natural woods

• Stabilised wood

• Acrylics

• Resins

• Hybrid blanks

• Patterned materials

• Special commissioned materials

• And occasionally something that makes me think, "I wonder if I can turn that into a pen?"

Wood is particularly fascinating because no two pieces are ever quite the same.

The grain, colour, figuring and little imperfections are what make natural wood so interesting.

With resin and acrylics, the possibilities are completely different.

I can have striking colours, swirls, patterns, metallic effects and combinations that look almost too good to be hiding inside a rectangular block.

And that is the first lesson of pen making:

Never judge a pen blank by its shape.

At this point, it really doesn't look promising.

Step 2: Cutting the Blank

The material needs to be cut down to a suitable size for the particular pen I'm making.

This is where I have to pay attention to the dimensions.

Too small and I've got a problem.

Too large and I've created more work for myself.

I cut the blank to suit the pen kit or design and make sure there is enough material to allow me to turn it down to the finished shape.

This sounds straightforward.

It is.

Until you cut something slightly wrong.

Then it becomes a very educational experience.

One of the things I've learned over the years is that measuring twice is considerably cheaper than making something twice.

Step 3: Drilling the Blank

The next job is to drill a precise hole through the blank.

This hole needs to be the correct diameter for the pen components I'm using.

And this is where precision starts to become particularly important.

The hole needs to be straight, clean and accurately positioned.

If it isn't, problems later in the process can become rather difficult to hide.

Unfortunately, wood and resin don't come with little arrows saying:

"Drill here. Honestly, it'll be fine."

So I have to get it right myself.

For some pen designs, drilling is particularly important because the finished pen may contain several different components that all need to line up beautifully.

Step 4: Fitting the Tubes

Many handmade pens are built around brass or other internal tubes.

These provide the structure onto which the pen components are eventually assembled.

I prepare the inside of the blank and the tube before bonding them together.

The tube is carefully positioned inside the blank and secured with adhesive.

This sounds like a fairly unexciting stage.

It isn't.

Because once the adhesive has cured, that tube isn't going anywhere.

So I need to make sure everything is positioned correctly before the glue decides to become permanent.

This is another stage where patience is considerably more useful than enthusiasm.

Step 5: Mounting It on the Lathe

Now things start getting interesting.

Once the adhesive has cured, the blank is mounted onto my lathe.

At this point, I have something that looks vaguely like a pen if you squint at it.

The lathe spins the blank at high speed while I carefully remove material using turning tools.

This is the stage where the rectangular block finally begins to reveal what it wants to become.

And I love it.

There's something very satisfying about watching a square blank gradually become round.

The corners disappear.

The shape emerges.

The grain begins to move.

Colours start to blend together.

And suddenly I can see the pen hiding inside the material.

Step 6: Mounting the Blank on the Lathe

Once the adhesive has fully cured, the blank is ready to go onto my lathe.

But I don't simply put the blank between the centres and start turning.

This is where pen bushes come into play.

Different types and sizes of pens use different bushes, specifically designed for the particular pen kit I'm making. The bushes sit on the mandrel alongside the blank and provide a precise reference for the diameter that I need to turn the material down to.

So, for example, a fountain pen, rollerball and ballpoint may all require different bush sizes and arrangements, depending on the particular kit and design.

Some larger pens have several different sections, meaning I may need different bushes for the cap and barrel. Other designs have their own specific bush sets.

The bushes essentially give me my target dimensions.

They're my visual and physical guide as I turn the material, allowing me to bring the wood, resin or acrylic down accurately to match the pen components.

And accuracy matters.

If I leave the blank too large, the finished pen won't transition neatly into the metal components.

If I take too much material away, there's no magic button marked "put it back."

I have learned that the latter is generally considered an unfortunate outcome.

Once everything is mounted correctly, the lathe can be switched on and the real transformation begins.

The square blank starts spinning.

I carefully remove material with my turning tools.

The corners disappear.

The shape begins to emerge.

And gradually, the rectangular block that looked nothing like a pen starts revealing the pen hiding inside it.

This is probably my favourite part of the whole process.

I can watch the shape develop with every pass of the tool, while the bushes quietly remind me when I've reached the dimensions I need.

They may not look very exciting, but those little pieces of metal are doing a remarkably important job.

In pen making, even the bits you never see matter.

I'd also slightly adjust the following heading to make the sequence flow better:

Step 7: Turning the Shape

rather than having Step 6 itself cover the actual shaping.

That gives the process a nice progression:

Blank → Drill → Tubes → Bushes/Mandrel → Turn → Sand → Finish → Polish → Assemble → Inspect

And it reinforces something that's important to your brand: these aren't simply blanks thrown onto a lathe and turned until they look like pens. There is a specific process and precision behind each one.

Step 8: The Finish

Now comes one of my favourite transformations.

Depending on the material and the design, I apply the appropriate finish and polish the surface.

With a beautiful piece of wood, the right finish can completely transform it.

The grain comes alive.

The colours deepen.

The surface develops a beautiful sheen.

With resin and acrylics, polishing can reveal an incredible depth and clarity that simply isn't visible when the material is freshly turned.

This is often the point where I stop and think:

"Oh… that's going to look rather nice."

And that's always a good sign.

Step 9: Polishing

Polishing is where the pen really starts to look finished.

I work carefully to bring out the best in the material without losing the character that made me choose it in the first place.

A good finish should enhance the material rather than hide it.

I want the finished pen to feel good in the hand, look beautiful under the light and — most importantly — make someone want to write with it.

Because that's ultimately what all this work is about.

It's a pen.

It needs to be used.

Step 10: Assembly

Now comes the moment when the pen finally becomes a pen.

All those separate components I've been working around can finally be assembled.

The clips, rings, sections, mechanisms, nibs and other components are carefully fitted together according to the design.

Depending on the pen, this might involve a fountain pen nib and filling system, a rollerball mechanism or a ballpoint mechanism.

Each type has its own character.

Fountain pens

Fountain pens have that wonderful combination of engineering and tradition.

The nib, feed and filling system all have to work together to deliver ink smoothly to the paper.

Rollerballs

Rollerballs offer a lovely smooth writing experience while retaining the feel and character of a substantial handmade pen.

Ballpoints

Ballpoints are wonderfully practical.

Twist, click or activate the mechanism and you're ready to write.

No bottles of ink required.

Although, admittedly, I still rather like the bottles of ink.

Step 11: The Final Inspection

Before a pen leaves my workshop, I give it a thorough inspection.

I'm checking the finish, alignment, mechanism, fit and overall appearance.

I also want to make sure it feels right.

Sometimes something can look perfect but not quite feel right in the hand.

That's important to me.

I don't want to send out a pen that I'm merely satisfied with.

I want to be able to pick it up and think:

"Yes. I'd be happy to put my name on that."

From a Blank to Something Personal

And that's really the fascinating thing about making a handmade pen.

At the beginning, I have a blank.

Just a piece of material.

By the end, it has become something completely different.

But it doesn't really become special until somebody chooses it.

Perhaps it's a birthday present.

Perhaps it's a retirement gift.

Perhaps it's being bought to celebrate passing an exam.

Perhaps someone has commissioned a particular wood because it reminds them of somewhere or someone important.

Or perhaps they simply saw it and thought:

"That's the one."

I never know the story that a pen is going to become part of.

And I think that's one of the reasons I enjoy making them so much.

Every Pen Has a Little Bit of Me in It

There is a certain irony to handmade pens.

I spend hours making something that is ultimately designed to help someone else put their own thoughts onto paper.

Every cut, every turn, every sanding stage and every polished surface is something I've done by hand.

But once the pen leaves my workshop, the story becomes yours.

You'll decide what gets written with it.

You'll decide where it lives.

You'll decide whether it becomes your everyday pen or the one you keep for particularly important occasions.

And perhaps, years from now, someone else will pick it up and ask:

"Where did you get this?"

That's a rather lovely thought.

So, How Long Does It Take?

That depends on the pen.

Some designs are relatively straightforward.

Others involve more complicated shapes, unusual materials, intricate patterns or additional finishing work.

And that's before I factor in the time spent staring at a blank wondering exactly what shape will show it off best.

The actual turning may only be part of the process.

The preparation, sanding, finishing, polishing, assembly and inspection all take time.

The lathe gets the glory. The sandpaper does most of the complaining.

But that's the nature of handmade work.

I could make things faster.

I could cut corners.

I could rush the finishing.

But then it wouldn't really be handmade in the way I want it to be.

Why I Make Handmade Pens

For me, making pens isn't simply about producing something that writes.

If that were all I wanted to do, there are considerably easier ways to make a pen.

I make them because I enjoy the process.

I enjoy discovering what is hidden inside a piece of wood.

I enjoy watching colours and patterns emerge from resin.

I enjoy the precision of turning and assembly.

And I particularly enjoy the moment when I hold the finished pen for the first time.

But most of all, I love knowing that something I've made by hand is going to be used by another person.

A handmade pen can become part of someone's working day, their studies, their journaling, their correspondence or their special occasions.

It might sign an important document.

Write a letter.

Record a memory.

Take notes during a meeting.

Or simply sit on a desk looking rather handsome.

I don't think that's a bad life for a piece of wood, resin or acrylic that started out as a little rectangular block.

From Blank to Finished Pen

So the next time you pick up a handmade pen, take a moment to look at it.

That smooth curve didn't happen by accident.

The shine didn't happen by magic.

The grain, colour and pattern were carefully revealed.

And somewhere along the way, a rather ordinary-looking blank became something designed to last.

That's what I love about pen making.

I don't just make pens. I uncover them.

And perhaps the best part is that I never really know where one of them will end up, or what will eventually be written with it.

All I can do is make it as well as I possibly can.

The rest of the story belongs to the person holding it. ✒️❤️