Letters are scary things, apparently. Or they take too much
time to write. Or there’s the rising costs of stamps. Or that disgusting glue
on envelopes.
Yes, there are lots of excellent reasons not to write
letters.
But there’s one very good reason why you should, and it
sounds a lot like the Golden Rule. Think about how excited you get when you get
a real letter in the mail. (If this never happens to you anymore, send me your
address. I’d be happy to give you this experience so you can relate.) It’s nice
to know that someone cares enough to take a writing instrument in their own one
hand and jot down a note.
So do that for other people.
At first, I wanted to make one of these points “Be
Creative.” I was going to list ways to make mail fun and unusual. But then I
realized, hey, not everyone is creative. (Sometimes, writers have to keep
reminding themselves of this.)
Besides, some of the best letters I’ve ever received are
pieces of paper folded in half, filled with messy handwriting. So you clearly
don’t have to be creative to write a letter. And you certainly don’t have to be
a writer.
Everyone can write letters. It’s not scary. It doesn’t take
that long. And I will personally pay for your stamp and lick your envelope if
that’s the issue.
(Sidenote: there are some people who just do not like
writing letters, and will be skeptical of this in the same way that I would be
if someone else wrote a post about how anyone can learn to dance the
Charleston. If writing letters just isn’t for you, fine. I get that. So don’t
let my enthusiasm guilt you into feeling like you have to pick up this hobby.)
Here are a few tips from my vast amount of experience from
sixteen-ish years of writing letters.
Put yourself on the page.
When I was a freshman in high school, we had to write
thank-you notes to the chaperones of our field trip. We all dutifully scrawled
out the required number of lines and turned our papers in.
The next day, my teacher called me up after class. (Isn’t it
funny how, no matter how much of a good kid you are, your first thought is that
you’re in trouble?) “This is the best thank-you note I’ve gotten from this
assignment,” she said. “Thank you so much. I’m going to send it to the mom who
had the worst time with her group so that maybe she’ll volunteer again next
year.”
That’s the only time I’ve been thanked for a thank you note.
But let me tell you what made mine different. I didn’t write
an epic poem or do some fancy writer-y thing. I just let the other person see a
little bit of me. I made it personal, talked about my favorite part of the
trip, made fun of high school freshmen, and said thanks to the chaperone for
putting up with us.
That was it. That’s how I had been taught to write thank-you
notes since I was old enough to misspell words like “the.”
Write like you talk. Tell a story. Give specific details.
Include an inside joke. Just make it sound like you. Yes, it takes a little
extra effort. But it’s more fun to write (and read).
Lose the pressure.
If you went on a safari in Africa and almost got mauled by a
lion, I’d love to hear about it. But if you spent your Saturday weeding until
you wanted to get out a chainsaw and attack every dandelion in existence, I
want to hear about that too.
Never write to impress someone. (Unless you’re writing a
sonnet to your true love. I suppose that’s an exception. But in that case, just
go sing under the girl’s window and save on postage.) It’s perfectly fine if
you can’t fill your letter with dramatic news.
Facebook has trained us to think that everyone else’s lives
are more exciting than ours. Let me tell you a little secret: they’re not. In
fact, about half of my statuses are entirely made up. (Just kidding.)
Guess what? If you are my friend, I really just want to hear
about your normal, boring life, because it tells me something about your
normal, non-boring self.
But don’t feel like you have to give a play-by-play of your
daily routine. Write about what God’s been teaching you. Tell a story about
something funny that you overheard at the park. Bring up a controversial
subject and take a stance. Make a Top Ten list. Ask a series of random
questions. Mail a blank envelope, just for fun (make sure the person who gets
it is a good sport, or he’ll be angry that he spent twenty minutes trying to
figure out what happened).
Chances are, whoever you’re writing to will be excited that
they’re getting non-spam, non-bill, non-form letter mail at all. So they
probably won’t be too picky about the content.
Don’t give to get.
Here’s something ironic, in light of the subject of this
post: for the past three weeks, I’ve been without a mailbox. (So if you’ve
written to me recently, I’m sorry! I haven’t gotten it yet. Which means I
haven’t written back.)
The family I’m living with recently moved, and they haven’t
gotten the key to their little mailbox yet. Apparently, the post office won’t
give a key to you until ten days after you apply, so I’ve still got a week of
postal desert stretching out in front of me. I’ve written more letters in the
past month than I ever have before . . . without the ability to get a single
one in return.
This has taught me something about myself. As I think about
my lack of a mailbox, I wonder if, most of the time, I give to get. Would I
still serve in ministries and plan parties and make lunch dates and edit papers
and invest in relationships if I didn’t get something out of it? Maybe not.
I wouldn’t suggest smashing your mailbox. The U.S. Postal
Service would not approve. It might even be a felony—a lot of things related to
mail randomly are.
I do know that you should never write a letter to someone
expecting one back. You might even mention that in your letter. Sure, you want
to hear from them, but let the non-letter-writers out there off the hook. An
email or Facebook response or phone call would be fine. That way, you won’t be
disappointed when you don’t get as much mail back as you send.
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