His name is Remi, we are having a love affair, and my spouse knows about it. 

He is a Remington Portable. A archetypal typewriter manufactured in the mid-1930s. His ruddy grey body sits squarely in the centre of my coffee table, the focal point of our living room. And rightly so. As a writer married to a bibliophile, words are central in our home.  

And now more than ever. As new mother I have never been so keenly aware of language. Word by word I am naming my daughter’s world. Raffi songs are sung by heart, daily chores are narrated, and tastes, colours, sights and sounds are animated for her sheer delight.

My daughter teaches me each day that, when it comes to words, it is all about the delivery. For instance, plainly announcing “We are going for a walk” receives no more than a glance, while sing-songing the same line results in a mess of wild baby giggles.

Typewriters have a similar effect on me.

It doesn’t matter what words fall into Remi, he makes them beautiful. It’s this beauty, and the love of sending and receiving letters, that inspired my friend Marisa and I to co-found the Vancouver Letter Writing Party last fall. Each month a growing number of us gather for no other reason than to type. Letters are written, brimming with minutiae, and they are beautiful.

These words want to be read. They are climbing up, off of the paper, begging to be stamped, sealed and sent.  

When was the last time you wrote a letter — typewritten or otherwise?

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This post originally appeared on the After Hours blog. 

Tonight my good friend Marisa and I took to the Regional Assembly of Text for a special letter writing night. The CBC was there filming a doc, so basically we were stars. Typing stars. 

Oh yeah, our monthly Letter Writing Party is taking place a week early this month so we can write our mushy, ooey gooey love letters in time for Valentine’s Day. E-mail me for the locale. Julia the Chemist (a famous commenter around these parts) is hosting it at a lovely Queen’s Park apartment. 

Clickity clack, that’s that.

I’ve decided to give my typewriter a place of prominence in our home: on our coffee table. Part aesthetic and part practicality, I think it is a lovely statement of the centrality of words in our world. Many more letters will be written this way, I think. 

A side note about our home: We are moving. But not far. We are selling our condo but are staying the neighbourhood. We have worked so hard to make this area feel like home. We are falling in love with our new little church, we run into more neighbours each day, and we’ve developed a rhythm here in our little neck of the woods. Speaking of woods, we will be living closer to the ravine where Madeleine and I take our daily walks!

Stay tuned about the details of our new digs…

Letter Writing Club tonight! Do not delay. The typewriters go quick. And it’s free. 

7 PM @ The Regional Assembly of Text — 3934 Main Street.

It’s that time again. The Regional Assembly of Text hosts their monthly letter writing club the first Thursday of every month. No need to sign up ahead of time. Everyone welcome. No cost. Supplies (and yummy treats) provided.

I’ll be sad to miss it. Instead I’ll be accompanying my stepdad to a father & daughter dinner at the Vancouver Club.

Inspired by this post, I plan to spend the next few evenings pen-in-hand.

I sent this quote to the Starbucks The Way I See It campaign today. It’s inspired by a letter written to Megan.

the other day i hand wrote a letter to my friend matthew in combermere. i knew the words would only be read once. only for my eyes and his.

it felt like something sacred.

sacredness can not be commercialized, blogged or sold. it can’t be purchased, traded or craiglisted. it is once. forever. present. living.

sacredness is the holiness of a moment slipping through our aching hands.

i think jesus would think letter writing parties are wonderful.

Ladies and Gents. Friends and lurkers. Let us unite.

At The Regional Assembly of Text’s Letter Writing Club.

This Thursday. 7 PM. 3934 Main Street, Vancouver.

Paper, envelopes, typewriters, tea, cookies & encouragement provided. Hoo-ray.