I overheard a conversation in a small craft shop this week. A woman, in her fifties was rifling through a range of colourful handmade cards. The owner, familiar with the woman called over to her. ‘Are you choosing a Valentine’s Day card for himself’? The question was met with a cynical laugh – as if. ‘He’d think I was having an affair’ she replied dryly, and we all laughed.

And yet, love it or loath it, it was recently reported that €143 million was spent on Valentine’s Day last year by Irish consumers, an increase of 28% on the previous year. While specific figures are not available for how many cards were sold, the vast supply of cards across book shops and independent gift stores tells a story of high consumer demand. The old tradition of exchanging cards it seems, shows little sign of decline.

Writing a card to a loved one represents one of the few remaining occasions when a person’s handwriting is called to action. It calls for a pause. For deliberation. It is a rare occasion when we don’t reach for the laptop to type our message and click the clinical ‘send’ button. Instead, a writing tool must be thoughtfully chosen – one that won’t smudge, one that instead makes a beautiful and articulate mark – that illustrates care and intention. A writing tool chosen to signify love and attention.

Writing by hand differs greatly from the process of typing. It is a sensory experience, a physical act that relies on many facets of our central nervous system. And it is those complex sensory-motor processes involved in handwriting that allow ideas or thoughts to be more easily retrieved than they might be when typing.  As the pen feels the page, memories, thoughts and feelings flow onto the page, in a way that keyboarding simply does not allow. As novelist Ally Bunburyrecently remarked, handwriting is a ‘translator on behalf of the heart’.

In a world of social media-induced perfectionism and appearance conformity, original thought and individuality appear to be dwindling. Handwriting however, provides a means of expression that is entirely unique to each person – no two people will produce identical script. No two pages will look the same. The opposite of the Instagram ‘tiles’ that adorn our phone screens. Most adults carrying the scars of their school days will decry ‘don’t look at my handwriting – it’s awful’ – forgetting the simple fact that their handwriting is in fact their own unique mark. Their identity as a human.

So, while Valentine’s Day may divide the masses, it nonetheless serves as an important reminder to preserve the act of handwriting. To hold dear the art of putting pen to paper, and to remind us that it is in the process that the magic happens.  

To receive a written note, is to receive a piece of that person.

But words are things, and a small drop of ink,

Falling like dew upon a thought, produces

That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.

Tis strange, the shortest letter which man uses

Instead of speech, may form a lasting link

Of ages. To what straits Time reduces

Frail man, when paper, even a rag like this,

Survives himself, his tomb, and all that’s his

Lord Byron, Don Juan