Make Your Mark, Write a Letter
By Victoria Fortune
After a recent session of binge-reading news, I was looking for a positive story to cleanse the bile from the back of my throat when I came across this Op Ed by Tennessee author Bill Haltom, singing the praises of the handwritten letter. Haltom’s description of his mother reminding him to write his thank-you letters brought to mind my own grandmother’s admonishments, which still echo in my head. Sadly, I am not the letter writer that Haltom is, but a renewed appreciation for letters has inspired me to mend my ways.
It may seem quaint to advocate a return to an ancient means of communication, when the whole world is turning to technology as the answer to the social-distancing this pandemic requires. The White House thinks “snail mail” is so obsolete they are on a mission to do away with the U.S. Postal Service—an institution as old as the country itself—which would effectively be the death nell for handwritten letters. Sure, for conducting business, digital communication is faster and more efficient, but what about personal communication? Why eliminate an age-old means of connecting, when connection is what we need most of all right now?
In the first place, writing by hand, no matter what you are writing, is beneficial for the mind, body and soul. My fellow scribe, Elizabeth Solar noted some of the benefits of writing in longhand in her December post, A Fiction Writer’s Dilemma: Longhand Versus Keyboard. Some additional advantages listed in 9 Incredible Ways Writing by Hand Benefits our Bodies and Brains are particularly important right now as we are in the grips of a scary, stressful pandemic. Namely, writing by hand can “calm the body and nerves” and “ease depression and anxiety.”
If writing by hand is good for you, just imagine how beneficial it is to the recipient of your letter. As Haltom writes, “in contrast to an email or text, a handwritten letter cannot be composed, drafted and sent in a few seconds. It takes time, and it is worth it. . . . on those rare occasions when I receive a handwritten letter, I am impressed and grateful. I read handwritten letters more than once. I re-read them and often keep them.” An email does not have the same effect, and a social media post directed at hundreds if not thousands of followers could never make an individual feel the way a handwritten letter addressed solely to them can.
In her essay, Should You Feel Sad about the Demise of the Handwritten Letter? Professor Siobhan Phillips, who teaches a class on letters as a literary and para-literary phenomenon, notes some compelling reasons why letters cannot be entirely replaced by the alternatives society has developed. She refers to Simon Garfield’s analysis in his book To the Letter, that letters contain an “individuality and authenticity” that emails do not. Email, after all, is not a truly private means of communication. Email accounts can be hacked. We are all warned to view anything we put in cyberspace as basically public, which makes email a less personal space than an individual handwritten letter, and far less inviting a place to reveal sensitive information and feelings.
As research for the novel I’m working on, I have recently been reading through the treasure trove of correspondence my grandmother saved, so I am particularly attuned to some of these unique qualities. Phillips points out for example that, “Personal letters have long made the case that writing allows people to grow closer in ways conversation might not.” I observed this in the love letters my great grandfather and great grandmother wrote back and forth. After one particularly passionate letter from him, my great grandmother replied that he had “never expressed such feelings” before in person.
Which brings up another unique advantage of letters in making connections: their physicality. “Words on paper,” Phillips writes, “bring something that one person has touched to the touch of another; they metonymically figure the human body by transporting its combination of persistence and perishability.” There is something about a physical letter that seems to create a tangible connection with the person on the other end. At a time of social isolation, a physical letter may be about as close as we can come to holding hands or giving a hug.
I’m no handwriting expert, but the nature of my relatives’ handwriting seems to convey an essence of the person. My great grandfather wrote passionate letters to my great grandmother, ten years his junior, during their courtship. The bold slant of his penmanship matches the exuberance of his ardor. Its practiced consistency suggests discipline and confidence. On the other hand, my great grandmother’s halting upright script in her prim replies reveals a timid 17-year-old, unsure of herself and her emotions. Their letters not only offer a snapshot of who each of them was at the time of their courtship, but they provide an intimate look at their relationship with one another.
If my great grandfather had had email at his fingertips, would he have sent my grandmother impassioned emails? And would my great grandmother have printed them out and kept them, as she did his handwritten letters? It’s hard to imagine.
As I have sat elbow deep among brittle old letters written long ago, I’ve tried to imagine how future historians and historical novelists will conduct research. Will there be library basements full of arcane computer systems they must learn to operate in order to unearth primary sources such as social media posts and emails? One thing I know for sure, future research will have be poorer for lack of letters.
As this historic pandemic keeps us isolated from one another, experts suggest that writing by hand, whether you write poetry or keep a journal or write a manifesto, is a healthy coping mechanism. If you are going to write anyway, why not write a letter? After all, not only will you be reaching out, making a connection and making someone’s day, but you will leave a record that will be gold to some future historian researching what life was like during the coronavirus pandemic.
Photo Credit: ID 82967171 © creativecommonsstockphotos | Dreamstime.com
