WRITING TO SOMEONE
It took some courage from me—a sense of awkwardness, even—to ask her the question. As if suggesting a pen pal relationship wasn’t something that’s done anymore. My friend had just moved to Norway. I hesitated, then asked her if she’d like to start this communication.
What followed surprised me. A newfound excitement, an immediate intimacy. Packages travelling miles, small objects slipped into envelopes. You have to walk to the post office, drop off the letter, then wait. I try to imagine the landscapes that surround her, the light, the distances travelled.
Starting a pen pal relationship today begins with an address. Just one. Accepting the initial awkwardness, choosing a different rhythm, writing not to be seen, but to reach out to someone.
Marie-Josée Gonthier, a facilitator, coordinator, and cultural mediator, speaks of this gesture as a gentle boldness: “I dared to suggest a handwritten correspondence to her, and she accepted enthusiastically. Since then, my joy has come from discovering what she took the time to confide to me on paper.”
Addressing the other person, not the stream: corresponding in this way is not about producing content, but sustaining a relationship. We choose each sentence carefully, accepting that not everything will be said. The goal of the letter is not efficiency, but accuracy.
SLOWING DOWN WITHOUT GIVING UP
We’ve never communicated as much as we do now. Quick messages, notifications, expected replies… The messages come one after another—often useful, sometimes exhausting. Without rejecting digital technology altogether, many people feel a vague sense of fatigue linked to this constant availability.
“I like to check in on the people I love, but I sometimes find myself alone in keeping the conversation going, and on the receiving end of curt replies,” observes Marie-Josée Gonthier. For her part, Vanessa Bell, an author, poet, and editor, describes another form of saturation: “I consider digital messages to be work. Even though I’m grateful for them, they take up a tremendous amount of my time.”
Instantaneity is useful because it allows us to maintain connections, organize our daily lives, and stay in touch. Due to its speed, however, it leaves little room for sustained attention, restraint, or anything that takes time to really formulate. Written correspondence today does not signify a return to the past; it’s a matter of a deliberate adjustment of pace, a need for presence and attention.
“Taking the time does wonders for morale,” sums up Marie-Josée Gonthier. As such, paper and ink offer a means of stepping away from urgency to restore a certain depth to connection.
A TRULY TRENDY GESTURE
This practice isn’t limited to those who grew up in a world without screens. Handwritten correspondence is finding its place among young people, too. Rebecca Lessard, a CEGEP student, recounts how she began using this type of communication with a friend of hers after discovering modern examples on social media. Soon, they began to really like the change of pace: having to be careful with envelopes, meticulously selecting words, and putting into writing thoughts that are difficult to express via instant messages.
For her, this form of communication helps avoid the frequent misunderstandings of rapid exchanges and allows for clearer expression.
WHAT THE LETTER TRANSFORMS
Addressing a single person changes the nature of the connection. The anticipation of the reply, the care taken with the language, and the absence of an immediate reaction transform the relationship.
“Writing to someone involves choosing the paper, deciding how to hold it, sometimes even choosing a scent. These gestures are as meticulously crafted as the words themselves,” explains Vanessa Bell.
The letter seeks neither performance nor quick validation. It leaves room for silences, for pauses, for the unspoken. The wait ceases to be a void and instead becomes a component of the connection. A step aside from the rhythm of exchanges, a way of addressing what really matters to a single person. The letter allows a relationship to unfold without pressure, in a timeframe with room to breathe.
“We choose each sentence carefully, accepting that not everything will be said. The goal of the letter is not efficiency, but accuracy.”
THE BODY ENGAGED IN WRITING
Writing by hand also engages the body. Posture, rhythm, and concentration shift our focus. “Handwriting puts me in a focused and composed state. Seeing what takes shape on the paper is simple and comforting,” says Marie-Josée Gonthier.
Vanessa Bell describes a more intense experience: “This act becomes a kind of trance. My thoughts slow down, come back, and leave traces that I wouldn’t have been able to capture on a keyboard.”
Well-being doesn’t appear as a goal here, but rather a side effect of sustained attention.
WHAT REMAINS?
Ultimately, the handwritten letter becomes an object. The paper, the ink, the unique handwriting all come together to form a tangible trace. “I treasure these letters. They represent a friendship that has quietly been built through our correspondence,” says Marie-Josée Gonthier.
The initial awkwardness has faded. Corresponding in this way is now a conscious choice. The envelopes continue to travel. We don’t track their journeys, but we imagine them. And in that interval of time, something remains: an attentive presence—one that chooses duration over immediacy.