I once thought calligraphy was just… fancy handwriting. You know, like the stuff you see on Pinterest where every “y” looks like it’s doing a dramatic hair flip. But when my cousin asked me to help with her wedding invitations last year—because apparently, “Lily has cute handwriting”—I learned the hard way that calligraphy is part art, part wrist workout, and part emotional breakdown.
Let’s start with the obvious: calligraphy pens look innocent. They are not. The first time I tried to write with one, the ink blobbed all over the paper like a toddler’s finger painting. Jeremy actually asked if I was doing an “ink volcano experiment.” Bless his heart. William just shrugged and said it looked “kinda spooky.”
The trick, I learned, is all in the pressure. Too light, and the ink skips. Too heavy, and you’ll stab the paper straight through like an emotional poet. I practiced on scrap paper for days—names, loops, swirls, even the occasional “Jared loves Lily” doodle—until I could write a half-decent “Mr. and Mrs.” without cursing.
For invitations, I found that using a smooth cardstock makes the ink glide like butter. Textured paper looks fancy but will make your nib catch every few seconds, and then you’ll be muttering under your breath like a pirate. For table cards, I went rogue and used watercolor paper with gold ink, and wow—it looked expensive, even though it was just me and a cup of coffee at 1 a.m., watching crime shows in the background.
Signs were the most fun. There’s something freeing about writing “Welcome to Our Forever” on a big wooden board and pretending you’re in one of those home makeover shows. Jared helped sand the wood and kept pretending to critique my “kerning.” I told him to stick to grilling.
If you’re just starting out, get a decent nib pen and some practice sheets online. You can even fake calligraphy with a regular pen—just write the letters, then thicken the downstrokes. It’s kind of like wearing mascara on your handwriting.
Now, every time I see elegant calligraphy at weddings, I have a new level of respect. Behind every swoosh and curve, there’s someone who probably ruined a few envelopes, spilled ink on their jeans, and yelled “WHY IS THE INK BLEEDING AGAIN?!” into the void.
But when it all comes together—the names lined up perfectly, the gold shimmer under the lights—it feels like magic. The kind of magic that smells faintly of coffee and perseverance. And maybe that’s what makes handmade calligraphy so beautiful—it’s imperfect, just like love, family, and late-night crafting sessions with ink-stained fingers.