In Conversation With Barbara Bradley Hagerty
At London Letters our goal is to create beautiful stationery pieces that encourages you to write more letters. We believe that letters play an important role in modern society, and we're not alone in this view.
Each month we'll be chatting with a different snail mail enthusiast to find out why they think letters are special, why they think they still matter today, and what drives their passion to continue writing.
This month we spoke to the brilliant Barbara Bradley Hagerty. Barbara is a New York Times bestselling author and contributing writer for The Atlantic. Her third book, Bringing Ben Home, tells the story of Ben Spencer, a Black man wrongly convicted and sentenced to life for robbing and killing a white man in Dallas in 1987, before being freed after 34 years. His case is a story within the larger legal story of the innocence movement, which revealed how easy it is to convict an innocent person and how impossible it is to undo the mistake.
Barb worked for NPR for nearly 20 years, covering criminal justice and religion. She’s received the American Women in Radio and Television Award (twice); the National Religion Newswriters Award, the National Headliner’s award. Her reporting on the Justice Department was part of NPR coverage that earned the network the 2001 George Foster Peabody and Overseas Press Club awards after the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks. She earned a masters of legal studies from Yale Law School, where she attended the first year on a Knight Fellowship for journalists. She lives in Washington, D.C. with her husband, Devin, and their dogs, Patchett and Ravioli. And most importantly for us, Barb is a passionate letter writer.
"I think of letter writing a bit like driving in a car with someone at night time, and there’s a sense of intimacy, because you’re not looking at each other, you’re looking out at the road, you’re clothed in darkness and you’re able to reveal yourself and ask hard questions."
Tell us a little bit about your own letter writing history. Do you recall the first letter you received, or wrote?
I didn’t really become a letter writer until I was posted in Japan for the Christian Science Monitor. I was 29 years old, and back then, in 1989, phone calls were super expensive, around $50 for 10 minutes! And so, what I found is that the only way to communicate with my family and good friends was to write them letters. And the letters became this narrative about my life there, they became like my diary – from sneaking into Burma, walking through the jungle, going to Vietnam and Cambodia, to Korea, we had all these adventures, and so I was able to tell them what my life was like, and as well as all the adventures, just tell them how much I missed them.
How often do you write letters now?
I probably now write about once a week. I don’t receive a lot of letters, but when I do, it forces me to think about the relationship I have with that person, or hard issues that I’m going through in life. And so it forces an internal dialogue that I find to be really helpful. I think it’s a pretty profound tool. One thing that’s important to say is that, not everyone is comfortable writing letters, and so I don’t expect to receive them back, and that’s okay! I never mind when I don’t get a reply, because it’s been a way for me to think about that person without embarrassment or awkwardness.
Describe your letter writing set up for us. Do you have any favourite stationery or pens you use? Where do you like to write from?
Usually I’m at my desk in the study which looks over our back yard, and has a chair right in front of me, with my dog Ravioli asleep. I like to write first thing in the morning, when I’m at my most focused. My favourite stationery is either personalised sets or New Yorker cards (which are a riot!).
What type of content would you use for a letter, as opposed to digital communication?
I divide up my letter writing into categories. Firstly, thank yous. Generally, I’ll write these on cards as they don’t necessitate much more than that, and I’ll do that as need be. I tend to write these as a draft first so I can make my edits as required.
For longer letters I’ll try to write something meaningful (often typed because my handwriting is terrible!) – but this always give me a way to think about what I want to say. I’ve written a few letters recently, ones where I’ve thanked someone for doing something really extraordinary and I’ve gone through it point by point, being really specific with each note of thanks. And often, I’ll receive thank yous for my thank you letters – because they’re so unusual to receive now!
My next category is running towards trauma. When I was working as a journalist for NPR, I was assigned a really hard case to work on in Minneapolis, where the story was evolving and changing really quickly. I had to work relentlessly through the day and night, and as the days went on, I was just getting zero sleep, and was completely exhausted. And one day, with my notes about to go live on air, I belted down on the air, to 5 million listeners. I lost my notes, and scrambled for answers to questions. A complete brain freeze. And so I go home and come back the next day, and obviously all my colleagues have heard it, and were just too embarrassed to talk to me about it. But there was this young intern who I’d taken under my wing, and towards the end of the afternoon, she came to me and goes ‘I just want you to know that, that wasn’t you, not a reflection of you as a reporter or as a person, it was just really bad luck, and I just want you to know that I’ve got real admiration for you’. She ran towards trauma, no one else did. And it meant so much to me. And so what’s wonderful about a letter, is that if you address someone’s trauma, you can run towards it, be really direct, and say ‘this sucks! This is awful. But this is not what defines you, let me tell you what defines you’ and you just let them know how much they mean to you and what they’ve done, and I’ll tell you, people don’t have to respond right away, they can just absorb that information. A lot of people want to be comforted but they just don’t know how to accept it in that terrible moment, but a letter gives them a choice. So you’ve left the door open for them to come back to you in the future, because they know you’re completely in their corner. You can convey not only words in a letter, but intent too.
I think one of the really unique things about letters is that people have often told me they’ve held onto a letter of mine and carried in around in their purse or pocket and when something bad would happen, they’d get it out and read it. I have a friend and former colleague who was diagnosed with a brain tumour after a series of mishaps at work, so I wrote to her and explained how brilliant she was at work, how much her direction and her vision that she’d cast had made a difference, a few references to specific episodes at NPR she’d worked on, and how this diagnosis is not who she is to me. And as she was going through radiation therapy, she’d re-read that letter and it would comfort her. These acts of generosity have an impact on someone. It has an echo, it has a ripple effect, and they matter.
Another category I like to write for is to make someone’s day. Just something completely out of the blue. Something they aren’t expecting. Sometimes I’ll write to my pastor, or someone I see often, maybe a colleague. And you just want to say how great something they did was. They’re fun to write and fun to receive too!
My final category is letters of condolence. No one likes to write them, but you know what? You have to. They mean a lot to people at a time when they don’t really want people coming up to them and saying how sorry they are – you need to do these things. So I’ll sit down early morning, when I’m most focused, and I’m really specific about that person. So you can talk about how funny this person was, or I remember when XYZ happened, and you bring up certain things that that person did that meant a lot to you. Or say you don’t know the person who died directly, maybe the parent of a friend perhaps, then you can write about what a great son / daughter they were, how you watched them day in, day out, go and help their parent. It can be funny, in fact, it should be funny, it doesn’t have to be morose – you get enough of that around death. It should be happy and celebratory. You don’t want to remember the sadness of them going, but of the joy that they’ve brought to your life. And a letter can do that perfectly.
Do you feel any positive benefits to your mental health when you're writing or receiving a letter?
Yes, I feel good all day. I’ve extended myself, and they’re going to be so happy to receive a letter in the mail. I mean, how rare is that?
What do you think makes letters special?
I just think they stand out. Maybe there’s this desire for social connection. We now have a generation where, because of social media, people just desire that sense of intimacy. For younger people, you can get to know someone in a completely different way.
I think of letter writing a bit like driving in a car with someone at night time, and there’s a sense of intimacy, because you’re not looking at each other, you’re looking out at the road, you’re clothed in darkness and you’re able to reveal yourself and ask hard questions. There’s a protection about it too, because it doesn’t require immediacy. It can be a very useful vehicle to be kind, intimate and vulnerable, in a way that you often can’t in a face-to-face situation.
Are there any letters that you've held onto for a long time? Do you have a favourite?
I have ones from my brother than mean a lot. He gives encouragement, and is affectionate, in ways he'd never be to my face.
How do you envisage the future of letter writing?
For the masses – not great.
But it sets you apart. I counselled a young journalist last week who wasn’t getting noticed and was looking to make a change. I suggested she write snail mail letters to journalists she likes and admires, and to people in HR that she meets to set her apart from others. And on a personal note, it makes an impression, it makes people remember your ideas and your kind words. How many people remember the email they got? But they'll remember a letter with a stamp, on nice stationery or a card.
What would you say to someone that's never written or received a letter before, to encourage them to try it?
Envision the person you’re sending the letter to: She is going through junk mail, and then suddenly spots a crisp envelop with handwriting on it, addressed to her. She pushes everything else aside, sits in a chair, and opens it – maybe reverentially, maybe she tears it open. She reads your words of encouragement, praise, empathy, gratitude. She rereads it. Maybe a third time. She sets it aside, maybe reads it the next morning while making coffee. Imagine what you’ve done for that person, what a gift you’ve bestowed. Don’t you think 20 minutes of thinking about and writing a note is worth having that kind of impact? You’ll feel good all day, imagining how you’re going to make her day.
A huge thank you to Barbara for her time and passion. You can purchase her books or find out more about her work by heading to her website here.