Letters & Writing

Writing is such a vulnerable and personal thing to share because it is the only way people can ever get a glimpse into your mind and understand how it is that you process the world as you experience it. Even as someone reads a letter you have written, they are in direct communication with your thoughts and heart.

Generally, I prefer to write on actual paper. I used to buy my journals from the nearest bookstore, before I just stopped buying them. I’d select the smoothest pages and take home the journals that were either college-ruled or unlined, and maybe had a beautiful design on the cover.

I've noticed though that as times passes, I write on paper/in my journal less and less. I send less personal letters and cards.

I still dream up stories but when the time comes to sit and write a story, my fingers get antsy and my neck gets stiff. I worry that I won’t create the connection that must exist between reader and author. I remember the compliment from a former friend who said, “You’re a great writer because you connect to your readers. You’re not just talking at them.”

But few genuinely great writers ever truly feel that they are any good. In fact, I loathe myself a little whenever I publish on my blog. I roll my eyes at my own words and think, Why in the world would anyone care to read this?

Whatever does become published in a wide open area is going to take on a life of its own. A blog will reach some, but miss others. It will connect the writer to the reader in a way that is briefly intimate, but real nonetheless. Someone will be moved to tears, while others will respond with terse words or indifference, or worse, strongly-worded reactions.

Yet letters will, for a moment, be a close and personal interaction that begins with the first stroke of the pen and moves along as the stamp is affixed, the letter is delivered, and then is promptly pulled part by the eager fingers of the receiver. 


I think I'll get back to writing and sending letters.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

All That Matters

Forty Seven

Thoughts On Growing Older