World Letter Writing Day with Richard Simpkin

Happy World Letter Writing Day! 

Now then, as well you do know, our goal is to encourage more people to write letters, and so this day is a special one in our calendar.

To mark the occasion, we sent out a tentative instagram message to its founder, Richard Simpkin, and to our delight, he replied! We're delighted to share the below interview with him, where we discuss his love of snail mail and where the idea came from for an annual holiday marking the importance of letters. 

This interview would be good company for a cup of tea / coffee and a biscuit (just as an FYI). And by the by, if you weren't planning on writing a letter today, take this as your prompt to do so! Not only is it WLWD but it's also the official (ish) beginning of cosy season, and so there is no better time to snuggle in with ink, paper and the spilling out of thoughts from your head onto an empty page.

Richard Simpkin is a Sydney based author, photographer and founder of World Letter Writing Day, a global initiative he founded on the 1st of September 2014 at his former school to help keep the art of handwritten letter writing alive.

Richard has spent much of his life using letters to reach people. As a young man, he wrote to people he admired, and those handwritten letters helped open doors to some extraordinary moments. Over 17 years, he personally met, photographed and interviewed 100 Australian legends for his books, including Sir Donald Bradman, Dame Joan Sutherland, Germaine Greer, Barry Humphries and Alec Campbell, the last surviving Australian Gallipoli veteran. Many of those meetings began with a simple letter.

His work has also included the internationally exhibited photographic project Richard & Famous, which documented his 25 year journey meeting and being photographed with thousands of well known people, and Michael In Pictures, his photographic tribute to his friend Michael Hutchence. He is the traditionally published author of ten books across photography, Australian history, celebrity culture and children’s nonfiction.

Richard started World Letter Writing Day because he had seen, in his own life, how powerful a handwritten letter could be. A letter had the ability to slow people down, open conversations, create connection and sometimes reach someone in a way that a quick digital message could not. Through World Letter Writing Day, he has visited schools and run workshops encouraging children to write by hand, believe in themselves, persevere and understand that their words can matter.

Over the years, Richard has received letters from people all around the world: schoolchildren, teachers, parents, strangers, Michael Hutchence fans and fellow lovers of handwritten communication. Those letters have shown him that, even in a world of phones, screens and instant messages, many people are still searching for more meaningful ways to connect.

One of Richard’s favourite examples of the power of letter writing came full circle in recent years. As a child, he idolised skateboarder Tony Hawk. Decades later, after writing to Tony and thanking him for the inspiration he had given him as a young person, Richard received a handwritten letter back from him. For Richard, who had spent years telling children that handwritten letters still mattered, receiving one from a childhood hero was a beautiful reminder that letters can still carry gratitude, memory and connection in a way very few things can.

At its heart, Richard’s work with World Letter Writing Day is simple: to remind people that a handwritten letter does not have to be perfect, long or beautifully written. It just has to be honest.

Tell us a little bit about your own letter writing history. Do you recall the first letter you received, or wrote?

I don’t remember the very first letter I ever wrote or received, but I do remember one of the first times letters felt exciting to me.

When I was about fourteen, I had a pen pal in Canada. We used to write to each other every month, and I can still remember the feeling of waiting for his letter to arrive. We were both into collecting sports cards, so I would send him rugby league cards of my favourite players in Australia, and he would send me cards of Canadian ice hockey players. For a kid in Sydney, that felt incredibly exciting.

There was something magical about it. Here was someone on the other side of the world, writing to me by hand, putting sports cards in an envelope, adding a stamp and sending it all the way to Australia. It made the world feel bigger and smaller at the same time. Bigger because the letter had travelled so far, but smaller because suddenly someone in Canada felt like a friend.

I think that early experience stayed with me. Waiting for the post, opening the envelope, seeing the handwriting, finding the cards inside — it all felt personal in a way that is hard to explain now. It was not instant. You had to wait. And because you had to wait, the letter meant more when it arrived.

Later in life, handwritten letters became a much bigger part of my story. I began writing to people I admired, and over time I realised a letter could sometimes open a door that might otherwise stay closed. But if I go right back to the beginning, it was probably that pen pal in Canada, and those envelopes filled with words and sports cards, that first showed me how special letter writing could be.

How often do you write letters now?

I write letters almost every week. Whenever I receive a letter in my World Letter Writing Day mailbox, I always try to reply as soon as I can. I think that is important. If someone has taken the time to sit down, write to me by hand, put the letter in an envelope and send it, then I want to honour that by writing back properly.

I also still write thank-you letters to people when I feel they deserve one. It sounds simple, but I think a handwritten thank-you can mean a lot. There is something quite special about opening an envelope and finding a letter that simply says, thank you. It can stay with someone in a way that a quick text or email often does not.

I also receive letters from people all around the world, not only because of World Letter Writing Day, but also because of the friendship I had with Michael Hutchence and the work I have done around his memory. Michael’s fans still write to me, and that is a lovely thing. In some quiet way, it makes me feel connected to Michael still today, through people around the world who continue to love him and remember what he meant to them.

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?

I don’t really have a favourite pen or special stationery that I always use. I’m not too precious about that side of it. I usually just find a pen, or even a pencil, that feels comfortable in my hand. I actually enjoy writing in pencil sometimes, and every now and then I’ll write letters using different coloured pencils, just to make the letter feel a little more creative and arty.

For me, it is less about having the perfect pen and more about the feeling of sitting down and putting words on paper. A letter does not have to be perfect. It can have crossings out, little mistakes, different colours, drawings or whatever else makes it feel personal. That is part of the beauty of it.

I still have my grandmother’s antique desk, which is over 100 years old, and that is where I like to sit and write when I can. There is something very special about that. When I sit there, I feel a connection to my grandmother, but also to another time, when people would have sat at that same desk and written letters by hand.

There is still ink stained into the wood from where it must have spilt many years ago, and I love that. It takes me back to a time that has somewhat been forgotten, but the ink reminds me that this desk was once alive with words, thoughts, letters and stories. I like the idea that, more than a century later, I am still using it for the same purpose. It feels like I am adding another small layer to its history.

What type of content would you use for a letter, as opposed to digital communication?

For me, a letter is for something that deserves a little more time and thought. If I need to send a quick bit of information, organise a meeting, confirm a time, ask a simple question, then of course a text or email makes perfect sense. Digital communication is useful, and I use it like everyone else.

But if I want to say thank you properly, or tell someone how much they have meant to me, or encourage someone who might be going through a difficult time, then I think a handwritten letter carries that feeling in a much deeper way.

I often use letters for gratitude. A thank you letter might sound like a small thing, but I think it can stay with someone. It says, I didn’t just quickly type this while doing five other things. I stopped. I thought about you. I took the time to write this down.

I also think letters are beautiful for things we sometimes find hard to say out loud. If you admire someone, miss someone, want to apologise, want to encourage them, or simply want them to know they matter, a letter gives you the space to say it properly. You can slow down with your thoughts and choose your words with a bit more care.

There is also something private and personal about a letter. It belongs to the person receiving it. It can be kept in a drawer, tucked inside a book, pinned to a wall or found years later. A text message can disappear into a phone with thousands of other messages, but a letter becomes an object. It carries the moment with it.

What do you think makes letters special?

I think what makes letters special is the time inside them.

When someone writes you a letter, you know they have stopped what they were doing and given you their attention. They have found some paper, picked up a pen, thought about what they wanted to say, written it down, folded it, put it in an envelope and sent it. None of that happens instantly, and I think that is why it means more.

A handwritten letter carries the person with it. Their handwriting is there. Their little mistakes are there. The way they cross something out, underline a word, press harder with the pen, or maybe add a small drawing or a note in the margin. All of that becomes part of the letter. It feels alive in a way digital communication often does not.

I also love that letters can be kept. You can put them in a drawer, a shoebox or between the pages of a book, and years later you can find them again. When you open an old letter, it can take you straight back to a person, a place or a feeling. It is almost like time travel in a small envelope.

For me, letters are special because they are proof that someone took the time. In a world where so much is quick, disposable and easily forgotten, a letter feels a little more permanent. It says, you mattered enough for me to slow down. That is a beautiful thing.

Are there any letters that you've held onto for a long time? Do you have a favourite?

Yes, I have held onto many letters over the years, but one of the most precious is a love letter my grandfather wrote to my grandmother while he was on a ship during World War II.

To me, that letter is like a little time capsule. The paper, the handwriting, the words, they all carry him in a way nothing else really could. Even though it was written so many years ago, the love, thoughtfulness and meaning are still there on the page. When I hold it now, I feel connected not only to my grandfather and grandmother, but also to that moment in history when he was away at war and writing to the woman he loved.

That is one of the beautiful things about letters. They can outlive the moment they were written in. A person can be gone, a whole world can change, but their handwriting and their words can still speak to you decades later.

I also have many letters from the Australian legends I wrote to over the 17 years I worked on my Australian legends books. Those letters mean a great deal to me because many of those people have now passed away, and their handwritten replies are part of the story I was lucky enough to share with them.

Two of my favourites are letters Sir Donald Bradman wrote to me in the 1990s. To have letters from someone I had admired since childhood is very special. At the end of each one is his signature, and that alone still gives me a little thrill. It is not just an autograph to me. It is a reminder that a letter I wrote reached him, and that he took the time to write back.

Are there any famous letters you're especially fond of?

I do love famous letters, especially when they show a side of someone that history or fame does not always reveal. A handwritten letter can make a well-known person feel suddenly very human. You see their handwriting, their choice of words, their humour, their vulnerability, and sometimes even their hesitation. It reminds you that behind every public figure there is still a person sitting down trying to say something honestly.

I’m especially drawn to letters written in moments of love, gratitude, friendship or farewell. They do not have to be perfectly written. In fact, sometimes the imperfect ones are the most powerful because they feel real. A crossed-out word, a slightly messy sentence or a change of thought can make a letter feel alive.

I suppose I am also fond of famous letters because I have seen the power of personal letters in my own life. Letters helped me reach Australian legends. Letters helped me open doors. Some of the handwritten replies I received from people like Sir Donald Bradman are famous to me, even if they are not famous to anyone else. They are part of my own little history.

And more recently, receiving a handwritten letter from Tony Hawk meant an enormous amount to me. Tony was one of my childhood idols, so to receive a proper handwritten letter from him all these years later was very special. It felt like the whole World Letter Writing Day story had come full circle. I had spent years telling children that letters still matter, and then one of my own heroes wrote one back to me.

So I think the letters I am fondest of are the ones that reveal something human. Whether they are historically famous or personally famous, the best letters have the same thing in common: they carry a little piece of the person who wrote them.

Do you feel any positive benefits to your mental health when you're writing or receiving a letter?

Yes, I really do. I think writing a letter slows everything down in a way that is good for the mind.

When you sit with a pen and paper, you cannot rush in the same way you can with a text or email. You have to give your thoughts a little more space. You think about the person you are writing to, what you want to say, and how you want them to feel when they read it. There is something calming in that process. It takes you out of the noise for a while.

Receiving a letter can be just as powerful. When I open my World Letter Writing Day mailbox and find a handwritten letter from someone, it always means something to me. It might be from a school student, a parent, a teacher, a stranger, or someone writing from the other side of the world. That feeling of connection is very real. It reminds you that someone has taken the time to reach out.

I have seen this with children too. During COVID, when kids were stuck at home and not able to see their friends properly, my son Ollie and the local kids started writing letters to each other and putting them in each other’s letterboxes. They were not long or fancy letters. Sometimes they had drawings, stickers or little jokes in them. But they gave the kids something to look forward to. They would check the letterbox and suddenly there was a little bit of joy waiting for them.

That showed me again that letter writing is not just about nostalgia. It can help people feel less lonely. It can help children express themselves. It can give adults a way to say something they might find hard to say out loud. And in a world where so many of us spend too much time looking at screens, writing a letter gives you a quiet moment to breathe.

For me personally, letters have helped me feel connected during different stages of my life. They have brought messages from Michael Hutchence fans around the world, hand written letters from people who care about World Letter Writing Day, and words from people I may never have met otherwise. That can be very good for the heart and the mind. A letter reminds you that you are not completely alone.

How do you envisage the future of letter writing?

I actually feel quite hopeful about the future of letter writing. I know some people think letters belong to the past, but I don’t really see it that way. I think letter writing may be making a quiet comeback, especially with younger people.

In some ways, I see it a little bit like vinyl records. For years, people thought vinyl was finished. Everything became digital, music became instant, and then suddenly a younger generation discovered records again. They liked the sound, the artwork, the ritual of taking the record out, placing it on the turntable and listening properly. It became special because it was not instant.

I think letters have that same feeling. Young people live in such a fast digital world, but many of them are also searching for things that feel real, personal and a little slower. A handwritten letter gives them that. It is not just words on a screen. It is paper, handwriting, stamps, envelopes, drawings, mistakes, colour and personality.

I have seen this in schools when I visit for World Letter Writing Day. Children get excited when they realise they can write to someone by hand and actually send it. For some of them, it might be the first time they have ever written a proper letter. There is a lovely moment when they understand that a letter can travel from their desk to someone else’s hands and make that person feel something.

I don’t think letters will ever replace digital communication, and they don’t need to. Texts and emails are part of life now. But I do think handwritten letters will become more precious because of that. The faster the world gets, the more meaningful it becomes when someone slows down.

I see the future of letter writing not as something old fashioned, but as something human. It may never be the main way we communicate again, but I think it will remain one of the most meaningful ways. Like vinyl records, letters may survive because they offer something digital communication cannot quite replace: feeling, ritual, patience and a little bit of soul.

What would you say to someone that's never written or received a letter before, to encourage them to try it?

I would say, don’t overthink it.

A lot of people think a letter has to be beautifully written, or long, or full of perfect words, but it really doesn’t. A letter can be very simple. It can be a few lines to say thank you, I miss you, I’m thinking of you, I’m proud of you, or I hope you’re okay. Sometimes those simple words are the ones people remember most.

If you have never written a letter before, start with someone you care about. Write to a grandparent, a friend, a teacher, a parent, a neighbour, or someone who has made a difference in your life. You don’t need fancy stationery or the perfect pen. Just sit down with a piece of paper and write as if you are talking to them.

The lovely thing is that a letter does not have to be perfect to be meaningful. In fact, I think the little imperfections make it better. Your handwriting, your crossings out, your spelling mistakes, your little drawings or the way you sign your name all become part of the letter. They make it yours.

And if you have never received a letter before, I hope one day you do, because it is a beautiful feeling. There is something special about seeing your name handwritten on an envelope and knowing someone has taken the time to send something just for you. It feels different from a message on a phone. It feels more personal, more thoughtful and somehow more real.

So my advice would simply be: write one. Don’t wait for the perfect words or the perfect reason. Write to someone today and tell them something kind. You never know what that letter might mean to them, or where it might lead. Sometimes the smallest letter can make the biggest difference.