Ink across paper across time.
written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post:: Written words are magical. Pen and ink and paper capturing the electronic bursts and flashes in our brains that make up our thoughts? Magical. I am always intrigued when I think about what it meant for humans to develop a written language, all that it involved, all that it changed. The power in the pen. The promise of what a blank sheet of paper holds. I miss paper. I'm a lover of paper and I miss the moment it creates in my hand when I've spent too much time at a computer. I love to sit in the quiet and simply write. Write letters, write in my journal -- write. This is a post about such things.::
An email arrived yesterday evening. It was lengthy and, with a quick glance at the neat paragraphical structure, I decided to print it out on paper and read it, giving it a paper-real moment. There are emails that are short and quick and informative, serving the purpose of instant communication. And then there are emails that are true letters. Those I print out.
I sat in bed and read the letter.
It referenced the poetry of Eliot and talked about moments of time that become timeless. The writer of the letter discussed simplifying life, and taking pleasure in simple things. He wrote on what it is like to be sensitive in sharp-edged world.
It was a lovely letter, and I re-read it many times.
I save all of my letters. Every single letter I've gotten -- from a child until now -- I have. There aren't as many as you'd think; letter-writing is so rare now. I always feel a slight pang when I'm in a bookstore and thumb through a book that consists of the letters written by a poet or philosopher. In my own collection of books, I have many of these from Rilke to collections of Letters of a Nation to Letters of the Century. Think of all the knowledge, the writings, the thoughts -- think of what has been handed down to us through history originally from a letter?
Am I writing letters that could ever be considered for such a thing? Am I in an exchange with another person where the quality and content is of larger interest? It's not an arrogant wish for such a collection to be made, that I ask this of myself, but rather a standard I hold about my personal writing. Do I write only for journal or blog, or do I put pen to paper and send it through the mail so a person a great distance away can open it up and relive that moment of electricity in my brain?
When I read the New York Times article about Hillary Clinton's letters to her friend from college, I envied both of them. To have that kind of letter exchange...not about weather, not a mere special occasion card. No. Letters instead on ideas and theories and Things That Matter to the person writing in the moment they were written.
I love writing letters -- long, handwritten, visually lovely letters -- and I love receiving them. That moment, when you get your mail, and see an envelope that clashes with the junk mail and the bills. Even a long, letter-like email will do, in an inbox filled with reminders and requests.
I crave -- and crave is not used loosely -- serious letters. I desire them far above the short notes and dashed-off sentences that we have grown comfortable with now, to keep business moving or to keep our lives in polite and workable order. I crave the obscenely long and deep letter on abstract and overly-lofty topics mixed with humor and heart.
I might write a letter on what I'm doing now and tie it into what I've read. I might write what I'm struggling to work through in my mind and use the poetry of another to help me while writing and the reader while reading. Letters that dip and swoop and meander. Ink across paper.
I want to write great letters! I want to read great letters! A letter is like no other thing. It's a personal message to a specific person or group. It is a journal entry for an audience of two. I can't even begin to link to every post on this web site in which I espouse writing letters, they are that important to me.
So I read the letter last night in bed, savoring the words of its writer before turning out the light, thinking on its mention of Eliot and his idea of when time and timelessness intersect.
I read the letter Will sent with some of his photography examples, enjoying his penmanship and the delightful way he talked about where he was while writing and about the pen he was using before moving on to what was happening in his life.
I read the letter a friend from college wrote, filled with clever illustrations that belied the struggle she described she was having as an artist.
Writing letters takes time, but they can transcend time. That's the kind of thing I want a part in. And so, I'm off to write some replies.
UPDATE: You can read about my college friend's letter, and my reply, here. There's a free download available that you might want. Or not.
Labels: writing
Copyright (c) Julie R. Neidlinger 9/13/2007 04:06:00 PM
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2 Comments:
This is a lovely essay, Julie.
One of my favorite college classes was a semester on the Letters of Pliny the Younger. Pliny wrote to his friends about every topic under the sun, and his letters are now considered an important source about upper class life in the Roman Empire of the late 1st Century. His most famous letters are his eyewitness account of the eruption of Vesuvius and his exchange with the Emperor Trajan about the Christians in the province of Bithynia, where he served as governor.
I aspired to write letters like Pliny's, and while I wasn't nearly as prolific as he was, I did write a lot of letters during college and for a few years after. I photocopied most of my letters, particularly the long newsy ones. One of my favorites was an eight-pager I sent to a friend back home during a month in Britain.
Eventually, I started writing emails that were much like my letters. For a while I was in daily email contact with my best friend, and our correspondence is a record of life as it was then. Since we were 250 miles apart, we had to explain a lot of what was going on. There was a fair amount of reminiscing, too, since we'd known each other since 3rd grade. (I still have most of those e-mails.)
Now all my writing energy goes into my blog and my column. The rest of my energy goes toward kids and work. That means there are big areas that are too private for public writing that don't get written down at all now. But even if I had the time and energy to write long e-mails full of personal stuff, I don't know that I would. Even back in the day, I'd feel a bit uneasy dumping a long letter on a friend, particularly one I knew wouldn't write back. I'm even more reluctant now to be that transparent with anyone. I could keep a journal, but the drive to write is stronger when I am writing to an audience, when I have to slow my thoughts down and explain things.
"It is a journal entry for an audience of two." That's the beauty of a letter, and the danger. Is there anyone who'd be willing to bear that burden? Anyone I'd trust to see my journal?
By 
MichaelBates, at
14/9/07 16:49
"I'd feel a bit uneasy dumping a long letter on a friend, particularly one I knew wouldn't write back."
I've known this feeling many, many times in my life, whether in letter writing or in one-sided communication. After a while, I start to wonder if I'm essentially throwing the letters in the garbage or if I've found myself in a leech-like position where I'm writing out my best and getting nothing back. It's...draining. In the worst way. It pulls the life-blood out -- all the good -- and leaves me feeling only the lesser, bad emotions of irrational hurt and anger.
"I'm even more reluctant now to be that transparent with anyone."
I've always been fairly transparent; I don't think anyone who knows me would categorize me as a person who hides or holds back. However, I'm starting to see I need to hold back and reserve myself. For what, I don't know, but it ties into constantly pouring out and just being left empty with nothing coming back in. The letters I received that I mentioned in this post were a delight in that they helped "put back in" and I didn't feel so worn or used.
I think people are attracted to transparency. It ends up being detrimental to those who are transparent. I need to learn to not be so open.
"I could keep a journal, but the drive to write is stronger when I am writing to an audience, when I have to slow my thoughts down and explain things."
I've discovered this to be true as well. It can be a struggle sometimes to write non-audience writing (what I call my "personal writing"). It's a battle, but I know I need to fight it. When I write without an audience I get deeper and discover more. It's like I'm "teaching" myself somehow, not teaching an audience.
By Julie R. Neidlinger, at
14/9/07 17:04
