Chelene Knight | Issue 35
Imagine a world where we prioritize depth over brevity, where we let our thoughts unfurl like vines instead of trying to cram them into 140-character boxes.
Why you should bring back the practice of sending hand-written lettersÂ
by Chelene Knight
In an era consumed by digital communication and the relentless pressure to multitask, it's easy to miss out on authentic moments of connection and reconnection.
I have seen in real-time how writing a letter can transform not only relationships that have been in the works for a lifetime but also when you reach out or recognize someone through the act of a handwritten letter, even just to say, "I see you," you can change the way someone sees themselves for the rest of their lives. And the effects of this (what I call "ripples") can be seen for years. Sometimes you are lucky enough to witness these powerful ripples, but for the most part, they are unspoken.
In today's hustle-and-bustle society, there's this constant pressure to keep our thoughts short and sweet, like squeezing a novel into a tweet. Imagine a world where we prioritize depth over brevity, where we let our thoughts unfurl like vines instead of trying to cram them into 140-character boxes.
Pushing back against the "short and snappy" narrative means embracing the beauty of elaboration and exploration. It's about allowing ourselves the luxury of fully expressing our ideas, without the constraints of a character count looming over us. Instead of rushing to spit out a quick soundbite, we take our time.
In this world, conversations aren't rushed whispers in passing; they're rich, meaningful exchanges that leave us feeling fulfilled and understood. We need to give ourselves permission to explore nuances and complexities and to truly connect with one another on a profound level.
Letter writing is time-consuming. In a world that moves with this quickness, how can we even justify the time it takes to pull out a real-life piece of paper and pen and sit down to write? But letter writing can rejuvenate, replenish, and help us refill our cups.
Writing, for me, has always started in the form of letters. I used to use letter writing as a way to say all the things I had trouble saying out loud. All the things I did not have an oral language for. Writing can be a tool. Writing can unearth clarity.
Writing can be a bridge to a new version of yourself:
The written word helped me expose the many threads of love and hope in my mind.
The written word helped me create a language for my joy so much so that I ended up writing an entire book on the topic!
The written word gave me a second chance to meet a different version of myself.
The written word helped me climb through and then out of residual shame connected to this journey.
The written word helped me lean into my own definition of failure so that I could alter the language and redefine it for myself.
The written word helped me build relationships with the important women in my life.
When you slow down long enough to look at writing in this way, you can see how valuable an act it really is.
Let me tell you a brief story about a friend and how writing letters has not only strengthened our bond but also helped us appreciate the micro-moments in life.
I first met this friend during a really pivotal time in my life. A time where I was just starting to think about my writing career, where I wanted to fit in the writing and publishing industry, and what I had to give. I was definitely doing a lot of the wrong things and taking on projects that just didn’t align with who I was becoming.
This friend is someone who loves brainstorming ideas for projects, events, and other various ways to call people into a room together. I admired this.
Living in Vancouver at the time, a melting pot for diversity, I was exploring my mixed identity and really struggling to fit in, to belong. I struggled to build sustainable relationships with other women because I had grown up feeling less than, like I wasn’t enough. I’m not exactly sure where this feeling came from, but it’s definitely not how I feel today. One thing I can confirm is that I was trying to squeeze into a template that didn’t make sense for who I was. I spent a lot of time inside of this rigid and unforgiving narrative.
My friend never once questioned my desire to belong. She also never asked me empty questions about my identity, which I think she could tell at the time would have made me uncomfortable. She knew I was still trying to find my place. She didn’t rush me. She didn’t try to fix anything. Instead, she chose to write me a letter.
And let me tell you, when she writes a letter, it becomes an event! She brings out the wax seal stamps, carefully selects the stationery, and slips in something she thinks I might enjoy like a new tea she just discovered. She envisions the recipient's experience.
She taught me how to transform letter-writing into a form of self-care.
She revolutionized it.
We still exchange letters to this day. We talk about what projects we are working on, what ideas are popping into our heads, and what our goals are for the future! Our letters are upbeat, they are personal, but they are also just … moments.
Back then my friend and I didn’t live far away from each other; in fact, I could take a bus and be in her neighborhood in less than 20 minutes. So the act of writing letters was not because we couldn’t see each other, but instead because we could.
Chelene Knight is the author of the novel Junie, which was longlisted for the inaugural Carol Shields Prize for Fiction; the memoir Dear Current Occupant, winner of the 2018 Vancouver Book Award and longlisted for the George Ryga Award for Social Awareness in Literature; and Braided Skin. Her essays have appeared in multiple Canadian and American publications. Previously the managing editor at Room magazine and the director of the Growing Room Festival in Vancouver, Knight has also worked as a poetry professor at the University of Toronto and the University of British Columbia and as a literary agent at the Transatlantic Agency. Knight has now founded her own literary studio, Breathing Space Creative, through which she’s launched the Forever Writers Club, a membership for writers focused on creative sustainability; the Thrive coaching program; and the Rise author care program.Â
Let It Go: Free Yourself from Old Beliefs and Find a New Path to Joy by Chelene Knight Harper Collins, 2024
For readers of Ross Gay and listeners of Therapy for Black Girls, a reflective examination of Black self-love and joy that guides the reader to ditch old beliefs, achieve difficult unlearnings and redefine language, relationships and love to find their own unique path to joy.Â
A warm, candid and essential book that will guide the reader to carve a new path to joy as unique as each individual. Created by the founder of Breathing Space Creative Literary Studio, acclaimed writer and editor Chelene Knight, Let It Go draws on personal experience and the advice of leaders from various Black communities to share hard-won tools for joy-discovery—tools such as how to say no with love; how to call back activities that feel good; how to reshape communication with those closest to you; how to revise language; and most of all, how to learn to let go in order to redefine what we think joy is.
Organized around the seasons and the natural cycle of reflection and renewal, Let It Go showcases, through conversation and solitary reflection, the broad spectrum of Black realities and reveals the colourful kaleidoscope of joy and your own ways to find it.
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