Ms the word: The lost art of letter writing
Delete that email! Put it down on paper, instead.
By on May 5, 2011
Another airline meal. I think I can say that Air Berlin has the best balance of service and food quality of all the European carriers I have used these past couple of weeks.
They even fly out of Tegel, which saves me 30 minutes at the start and end of a trip, which is something not to be sneezed at.
I am sitting in the emergency row, as usual, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, because I am not that sociable when I fly.
I have just finished a note to an old friend. She is a wizard with Skype, and a ferocious email correspondent.
She never forgets a birthday or a wedding anniversary or Christmas.
She made me think of an article I read, in another airplane, a couple of weeks ago.
It was an article about letter writing, in which the author asks: When was the last time you wrote a letter?
And I have to say that, for me, it would be about a year ago.
I do not count typed letters; these blurr into email territory, the sort of stuff you can change in the blink of an eye. No, a real letter, writen on paper, with a pen.
A letter has to be planned and written with care, because you do not have the facility to go back and re-work.
If you make a mistake, you have to cross it out neatly or start again. So it is a better distillation of what you are thinking.
Personally, I know it was a thank you note for a gift, from the old friend who is so assiduous with her emails. And it set me thinking, of course.
A letter is such a pleasure to receive.
You do not print out and keep an email; blogs are ephemeral; and if there is a word for something even more temporary that would apply to Twitter. No, letters last, to be re-read, re-folded, and stuffed between the pages of a book that has some relevence to the writer.
They are intensely personal, they cannot be copied and pasted to someone else, they can only be shown, read, and returned.
I have a collection of pens, including a beautiful black one with a nib, that only comes out to sign documents.
The rest of the time it hangs forlorn in my briefcase.
So I have made up my mind. I will invest in some high quality paper and write.
Instead of emailing my team to thank them for their efforts this past week, I will write.
I wil exercise the pen, and I will thank my team personally, with a handwritten note.
I have no idea whether it will affect them, but I know I will feel the pleasure of writing, and I will enjoy the smooth progresss of the pen and the bleed of ink as my thoughts transfer to the paper.
I shall feel better, myself, a little self-conscious and exposed, but better.