A magical pen had to be used for something magical, so my first novel was born. I called it "Simone and her People" and wrote about the end of the world, a group of schoolgirls rescued from certain death by handsome strangers who lived under the sea. Each chapter was written in a different color, on a different type of paper. There were leftover pages from half-used exercise books, torn-out scraps, unused diaries (I never could keep a journal), Granddad's old record-keeping book... The whole was "bound" if I remember rightly in the medium blue cardboard cover from some scrapped school work-book, and tied with string. It still lives in the bottom of my writing box, tucked under the bed.
I remember my human-alien crossbred children developed the ability to live on land and sea. When they returned to England's forests and shores they found human beings were going to war again. Kind of sad, my first novel. But the good guys won.