Write a Letter: The Lost Art Worth Reviving (April 2026)

I have always enjoyed mail. I’m sure my family is quite tired of my regular evening question: “Did anyone check the mail today?” Am I expecting anything? No, not particularly. Would I like to receive something more meaningful in my mailbox than never-ending junk mail? Absolutely—who wouldn’t? To me, getting a personal letter these days—especially in a digital world—is akin to finding a message in a bottle addressed to you while walking along a beach. They really are that unique.

My appreciation for mail likely started as a child. My family lived far from our extended family—on opposite sides of the country. I always enjoyed receiving birthday cards and notes from my grandparents. They served as a simple reminder that we were loved no matter how far separated we were.

In our busy days filled with emails, text messages, instant messages, tweets, posts, snaps—in my opinion, they will always pale in comparison to receiving a personalized letter from someone. Why? Because all those modern false equivalents of letter writing are missing something tangible: the mighty pen on paper.

Now more than ever, receiving a letter from a fond friend, colleague, or family member carries much more weight. When you open your mailbox and find a personalized envelope addressed to you, you instantly recognize the time and thought behind it. Someone sat down to craft a message just for you. That in itself is no small task in a world of incessant distractions and never-ending to-do lists. They then folded that letter, found an envelope, placed the letter inside, sealed it, addressed it to you, placed postage on the envelope, and delivered it to their local outgoing mailbox.

Then an entire system takes over to receive, process, sort, route, and deliver that thoughtful message. As the old creed goes, “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds,”—until you open your mailbox and realize you’ve just received a gift.

I think most people have a bit of a disdain for mail. Most of it is junk. The price of postage always seems to be rising, which makes it easier to discount what a service our postal system provides to society. They move information—and have been doing it long before the internet became our go-to for efficiency. Whether we use that service is entirely up to us.

But letters aren’t just powerful for the person receiving them—they can be just as meaningful for the person writing them.

There’s another side to writing a letter that is often missed, and it’s wonderfully demonstrated in one of my favorite books, “Lincoln on Leadership” by Donald T. Phillips. In it, Abraham Lincoln is described as regularly using writing to help process difficult decisions. Lincoln was prolific in writing letters and often drafted messages to generals or government officials that he was upset with over policy issues or a lack of desired action on their part. He spent considerable time writing harsh critiques that he would never send. Rather, he used them to get his thoughts on paper, sleep on the position he had laid out, and then rewrite a new, more diplomatic letter the following day. I like to think he realized the relationship was worth more than belittling someone for their missteps during a trying time in our country.

That is a concept I can truly appreciate. Write out your thoughts before having a difficult conversation—but don’t send it. Taking deliberate time to understand your position—and theirs—will likely reveal that you value the relationship more than proving your point.

Here is your challenge, if you choose to accept it: write one letter per month for the next year to someone you admire, respect, or love. Send a letter to someone who has shown you dignity, acted as a mentor during a trying time, or who you know is going through a difficult time. It doesn’t have to be a novel. Even a postcard with a note is a thoughtful action to show someone appreciation. The thought behind it will mean far more than the words on the page.

So get your Tangible Tangent on—and start writing regularly.

~ Allen