Handwritten letters.
Oh boy, when was the last time you saw one of these? Lines of ink, meticulously though not perfectly, traced along the page. A smear of a “t” here, a blotted dot of an “i” there. Try to think back to the last time you hand-wrote a full letter and actually delivered it to another person? I’m betting the content of that message was meaningful to both of you.
Things that matter most often take up a lot of time, or at least they should if we value them highly. They also regularly entail a fair amount of pain.
Why?
Because beautiful things, like handwritten letters, are worth our time and worth suffering for, because they are beautiful. You most likely haven’t written many letters by hand when responding to work inquiries or sending business correspondence. Our responses are typed hastily, sometimes laden with errors—they’re unfeeling. We don’t bother to put effort into them because they don’t matter—they are work.
Handwritten letters are quite the opposite. They tend to carry messages of such immense import that the writer writes them to ensure the content is conveyed precisely. Even the spoken word is valued with less regard (which is why we sign written contracts instead of barking “yep” at each other when we want to bind ourselves to an agreemet).
Typically, in this modern age in which we live, handwritten letters are sent to a loved one or one soon to be loved (dependent on the recipient), either to honor a long-enduring relationship or to start one. For instance, most anniversary cards or price negotiations with high-profile escorts will be handwritten to show we care to go that extra mile.
But it’s not only out of love that we handwrite notes. Ransom notes will 9 times out of 10 be personalized with amazing detail. The best notes always include cut-out magazine letters or a foreboding message scrawled in red ink (or blood if you have the time). Nothing says “I have your child and will only return him for $200k” like a personalized ransom note. Try, just try, to be taken seriously as a kidnapper by leaving a form letter behind and filling in the child’s name in the blank space.
Even the illusion of handwriting is pleasing to us because it signals a level of caring that Times New Roman can’t mimic. The notes app in which I am developing this “clot” has the appearance of textured paper, perhaps so I can trick the old muscle between the ears that my notes are a physical manifestation in the world. But no, I type out these notes like a dumb chimp because this too is a job. It’s our job to serve our clots to the world, yet, they sadly haven’t yielded the monetary benefits a good ransom note will.
Later,
Stephen G. Erickson, Co-Founder & Part-Time Intern
