I have a blue pencil.

There’s nothing too amazing about that on its own. Sure, it’s a little nifty compared to the usual yellow pencil, but it’s not mind-blowing, you’d probably never think about its color ever again once you start using it. 

Another thing about this pencil is that it doesn’t have an eraser, it’s been worn from the many mistakes its been used to erase. Not that you really NEED it. The lead is also blue, it’s very soft and can be very hard to see on white--or really--ANY paper. The barcode sticker is still slapped on the side of it, dirtied and worn down. It’s a miracle that it’s still staying on. 

This pencil is very small as well, I believe the palm of my hand is now bigger than the supply. 

This pencil would be considered, to a great handful of people, useless.

But it’s not.

I received it from a comic artist I’ve met a few times, I can’t remember her name but I do remember her being very friendly. She also made comics for the My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, a series with a very large following. The first time I met her, I was with a friend at V-Stock--the one in Chesterfield back when it was still lively-- my dad told me that there was going to be a comic artist. Admittingly, I forgot about that; I was just happy to be hanging out with my friend. 

We saw her, talked about the poster with Derpy’s tomb she had up, I might’ve bought a comic, and--in typical 14-year-old girl fashion--went to Hot Topic. The most memorable part was Derpy’s tomb. I didn’t really think about or remember much of it until a few years later.

Throughout those couple of years, my friend had moved, I started Freshman year, and it’s been a very weird... Everything. 

My dad took my sister and I to Barnes and Noble at West County Mall and there she was. The same woman. I didn’t recognize her right away, the most familiar thing about her was her thick, semi-long, black hair. Not dark brown, but truly black. It contrasted her white t-shirt and light blue jeans, along with her almost sand-ish skin tone. 

She had an easel up and a table, which we sat at, covered in art supplies Barnes and Noble applied her with; I accidentally broke a crayon and knowing Barnes and Noble, that was probably $15 so I quickly placed it to the side. 

She told us that she’d be giving us a small tutorial on how to draw Wonder Woman in her style, and that’s when she whipped out that tiny, worn down blue pencil. Up until that point, I’ve only seen How To Draw books mentioning and showing pictures of sketches with said-pencil; I’ve always thought it was a regular colored pencil for so long. I drew along with her while she was giving the instructions, but kept my attention on the pencil, not able to take my mind off of it. I wondered if this was what it was like to witness Jesus coming back from the dead; a shocking yet euphoric feeling? Probably an exaggeration but that pencil was the equivalent to a magic wand to me.

The artist stopped sketching Wonder Woman to let my family, and the family next to us, catch up. She peered over to my dad and smiled, 

“Oh, we have an artist over here! I don’t think I even need to teach you what to do!” she laughed. 

“Ah, thank you! I majored in art...” my dad began, explaining his history with art and comics as I hesitated in asking where she bought that little tool she had.

The two went back and forth a couple of minutes as my sister got noticeably more frustrated that she couldn’t make Wonder Woman as well as the demonstration, angrily pressing down on her pencil harder and harder. The illustrator said a last bit of words to my dad before turning back around to continue the walkthrough, that’s when I spoke up, “Excuse me!” 

She turned. 

“I was wondering where you got that blue pencil?” it was a rather basic question, but I didn’t want to bother her with all the minor details or come off as rude. She looked at it for a few moments and said

“I don’t know, I bought it a while ago.” she paused for another second.

“You can have it!” she simply said, handing the pencil over. 

I, internally, jumped and carefully grabbed the old tool and observed every scratch, stain, and bit of lead while asking “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, don’t worry, I can get another one!” she assured before she took a regular lead pencil to add a darker outline to her rough sketch. 

After the session wrapped up and we said the usual “Nice meeting you”, “take care”, “I love your art!”, we left to go to my dad’s apartment.

In the car, I sat and looked at my new, used tool. Now, this might sound silly, but there was a weird, immediate connection to that little, marked pencil. As if this was meant to be, or a sign that good things would happen if I kept on drawing. 

The artist never gave some sort of inspirational and emotional speech, some may consider the interaction I had to be minor compared to the hundreds of other artists or inspiration speakers out there that encourage you to keep pushing yourself, but that little moment with this little pencil has probably stuck with me the most. I’ve been keeping it in my desk’s drawer for years now and use other supplies exactly like it; the thought of getting rid of it hasn’t crossed my mind once. I’ll think about that small action from time to time and feel motivated.

I didn’t need some big moment to push me, to make me realize that I wanted to make comics, I just needed a little blue pencil.