Dear Readers,

Well, here we are. Assuming thermonuclear war doesn’t break out between now and the time this piece goes online, most of us made it to 2018. I could join the throngs of bloggers resolving to drink less, protest more, and say “yes” to life… but I don’t want to. Talk about beating a dead horse.

Rather, as one Gregorian year slips into the next, as the geopolitical insanity seems to mount and each of our decisions seems to carry ever-more-permanent consequences, I simply suggest a resolution that might help cope with it all. It isn’t easy, nor does it yield immediate results, but it can kick off at any time of year, and I’m fairly certain it will change your life for the better.

It is: write letters.

Nearly 10 years ago, at age 16, I decided to study archaeology, which meant spending my summers off on digs instead of at home or on campus. Afraid that friends and family would resent my absence — or more likely, forget about me entirely — I started writing letters. I have not stopped since.

Want to vent to your political junkie pals on the other coast about the deleterious effects of the 24-hour news cycle on thoughtful policy making? It sounds so much more fiery and righteous in a letter.

Feel like professing your love for that certain someone? Or the someone after him? Or maybe third time’s the charm? A love letter is the raddest way to do it, hands down. If you’re going to go out on a limb anyway, do it right. Immortalize your stupidity on nice stationery.

I do not recommend letter-writing when voicing an opinion to your elected representatives. Please call, and please keep it as concise as possible.

Enough thinly-veiled autobiography. Here is a non-comprehensive — but hopefully persuasive — list of reasons to join the letter-writing revolution.

1. It builds character to accept that in letter-writing, as in much of life, you will give more than you get. Friends have told me via text and Facebook that it makes their day — or even their week — to receive a letter, but do they send one back? Not usually, no. And that is fine, because one does not write letters if the only goal is to get them in return. One writes letters because…
2. No matter how far you go or for how long, a good letter can bolster or reignite a friendship in a way no text message ever will. I move a lot — as of next week, it’ll be eight times in five years, across three states, three countries, and two continents — and letter-writing maintained some relationships that would otherwise have been lost to time and distance. I will never forget the day I visited old friends in San Francisco, having just returned from my first year abroad, and saw all my letters from that year taped to their fridge. I don’t want to get all mushy about it, so I won’t.
3. When people do write back, it will make you feel like a million bucks. As evidenced by the featured image of this article, these exceptional correspondents do exist! Shout-out to everyone whose handwriting unwittingly contributed to the collage.
4. Letter-writing makes you choose between being honest and being boring. If you don’t bare just a little more of your soul than is comfortable in a letter, or spice it up with some stream-of-consciousness absurdity, it ends up sounding like one of those annual holiday mass-mailings from your Auntie Whatshername.
5. Eventually, you will begin to see your life as an observer, finding its arcs, twists, and oddities, and you will realize how interesting the big dumb thing really is. (Or you won’t, and it’ll motivate you to shake things up.)
6. Your children, grandchildren, or biographer will take great pleasure in one day discovering this hidden trove of early 21st-century history. Even I love going back through my old letters, which I now have scanned to a folder on Dropbox. (The real box I used to save them in grew too cumbersome. Did I mention I move a lot?)
7. After a while, using words like “cumbersome” seems perfectly natural.
8. Your penmanship will improve. I have seen some embarrassingly childish handwriting from adults who never learned to confidently put pen to paper, but anyone can get there with practice. Bonus: over time, you will learn to analyze your handwriting. Then, you will learn to analyze other people’s handwriting. Eventually, this skill will help you solve a murder.

Start small, if you want. Write holiday cards. Make each one a little more personal than you might have before. Send real postcards from your next vacation. Bring a friend (or a few) in on the deal and commit to being pen-pals. If anyone tells you it’s lame, punch ’em right in the face, and then hit me up. I’ll be your pen-pal.

p.s. Please don’t actually punch anyone in the face. I don’t want to be charged with incitement.