Clicking & Scrolling...in a different way.

The lost art of writing letters and how it can save modern communication.

Years ago, a friend gifted me a typewriter, and it completely changed my perspective on modern communication. I was born after the creation of the internet and was not even three years old when Facebook arrived. All I’ve ever known is that if there’s a phone for my hand to hold, I can contact anyone. So, when I placed this Royal typewriter on my desk, threaded a new ribbon through it, and began punching away at the keys, something magnificent happened. Everything around me fell silent, except for the rhythmic clicks, accompanied by a ring and a scroll.

What did I first write on that typewriter, you may ask? Oh, nothing but malarkey. I wrote a letter to my sister in Tennessee, describing all that had been going on in my life—from the dryness of the California air to a street I drove past the other day, adorned with the most charming hydrangeas. I found myself rambling, getting lost in thought. The punched words spilled onto the page, and I finally understood the appeal of writing letters. Without the distractions of notifications popping up on my phone or the temptation to click into another app after sending a text, it was just me, the page, and the message I wanted to share with the recipient—for as long as I pleased. Something about it felt so mechanical yet natural.

The art of sending letters has been lost, and with it, the romanticism of communication. I use “romantic” in a platonic sense—the joy and ability to appreciate the present moment and the expression of connection. Hence: romanticizing your life. The bold statement I’m proposing is that the dying art of letter-writing has led to the shortening of modern vocabulary, which, in turn, has contributed to my generation’s unhealthy views on emotions and their inability to express them eloquently and uniquely.

Imagine going to the doctor because you’re not feeling well, and they diagnose you with strep throat. You immediately feel a sense of relief because your problem has been labeled, and a solution is offered. Similarly, having a rich vocabulary enables people to express their ideas and feelings with clarity. Yet, with limited vocabularies, we rarely hear such nuanced expression today.

We live in an age of “tysm,” “ily,” “fr fr,” and other abbreviations, and our in-person small talk consists of the same recycled ten words rearranged. The lack of effort to expand one’s vocabulary has left us in a dystopian, conformist state where we all talk the same but say very little. This is evident in our dialogue, from scripts to books—a bland and uninspired form of language. Writing letters was once a way to nurture and harness the craft of communication through language. It required expanding one’s vocabulary because, in that moment, all you had to rely on were your words.

Ironically, the younger generation—largely autodidacts who learned much from YouTube and Google—has developed a fascination with vintage things. From rediscovering vinyl records to shooting on film, there is a hunger for tangibility—something we never grew up with. This brings me to my proposal: let’s bring back writing letters instead of texting.

The benefits would be abundant. Writing letters quiets the mind and creates a more personal experience when communicating with someone. It’s not just another noisy text to reply to; it’s a collection of long-form ideas and feelings. Letter-writing forces the writer to expand their vocabulary and experiment with language. There’s also a sense of urgency—the understanding that what you have to say must be meaningful because you will sit with your words for days, waiting for that letter to reach its recipient. Texts, emails, and direct messages are plentiful, but letters are focused and intentional.

As someone who writes on a typewriter daily, I can attest that it has completely changed the way I communicate with others. I’m no longer afraid to express concisely what I feel and treat each sentence like a blank space on paper that cannot be wasted. There’s an awakening taking place, and it’s no longer cool to act nonchalant. Out of this shift, I believe we will witness a flourishing of language among Gen Z.

For decades, media and large corporations have been dumbing down America, and we are now seeing the consequences. But while you can try to fool the people, our inherent need for fulfillment will prevail, and we will innovate beyond the mediocrity of the masses.