Black fine line script lettering reading focus on the good, drawn on a plain white background as a tattoo design with no body placement shown.

Focus on the good in fine line script

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

The image shows the words focus on the good written in a flowing, thin black cursive script on a plain white background. The linework is even and delicate, with looping ascenders and descenders and a long trailing stroke under the lettering. The design is in black ink only, with no shading and no body part visible, so it reads as a stencil-style drawing for a tattoo.

Fine line Lettering Script Quote Text

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dad chalked it on the slate above the range the winter the Hartley pit flooded, in the same looping hand he used for the rent book, and nobody on our row ever asked him what he meant by it. He said it to me on the morning I left for service in Newcastle, cap turning in his hands, while the cage bell rang somewhere under the colliery wheel.

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Newcastle was all tram lines and soot-darkened windows. I wrote home every Sunday on the thin blue paper Mrs Pringle kept in the scullery drawer, and every Sunday I told him about the sugar ration and the organ at St Nicholas, never about the girl who cried in the pantry because her brother had gone under at Wardley. Dad's replies came back in pencil, short as telegrams. Pigeon came back. Lamp fixed. Focus on the good, Nell.

The slate was still above the range when I came home for good in the spring of 1947. Someone, probably Mam, had wiped it clean and written a new line beneath his, in chalk already fading: the kettle is on. I stood in the doorway with my case and laughed until I had to sit on the step, because it was the first thing anyone had said to me in months that did not need answering.

Dad came up the lane at six from the back shift with his lamp still clipped to his belt. He took the case from me without a word, then stopped at the range and looked up at the slate for a long moment, and I saw his lips move over the words the way a man reads a letter he already knows by heart.