Your handwriting hasn’t changed since high school. This bothers you every time you pick up a pen. It shouldn’t.

The problem isn’t your handwriting. It’s the paper.

The paper matters

Cheap card stock makes everyone’s writing look worse. The pen skips. The ink bleeds. Your hand moves faster than it should because something feels off. You finish and the whole thing looks rushed, even if you took your time.

Good paper slows you down without you noticing. The pen catches just enough. The ink sits where you put it. Your hand relaxes.

This isn’t about spending money. A pack of blank cards from an art supply store costs the same as the fancy ones at the drugstore. The difference is the paper weight and the coating. Or the lack of coating. Uncoated paper takes ink better.

The pen matters less than you think

Use what you have. A basic rollerball is fine. Those gel pens from the office drawer are fine. Even a pencil, if that’s what feels right.

The only thing to avoid: those ultra-fine points that make you write smaller than you mean to. Your normal handwriting at your normal size is what you’re after.

Write slower than feels natural

Not careful. Not precious. Just slower.

When you write at speaking pace, something shifts. The letters connect differently. You stop halfway through a word less often. The whole thing looks like one thought instead of a string of letters.

What to actually write

Less than you think. Three sentences is plenty.

One about why you thought of them. One about something specific—not “hope you’re well” but “hope the new kitchen is coming along” or “thinking about that pie you made last Easter.” One to close.

That’s it. The specificity is what makes it worth keeping.

The envelope

Same rules. The address doesn’t need to be centered. Slightly off-center looks more human. Leave room for the stamp—more room than you think.

A return address in the top left corner. Small. Your name and city is enough for people who know where you live.

My aunt kept every card my uncle wrote her. Forty years of them in a shoebox. I don’t know anyone who keeps emails.