The pen pal renaissance: How handwritten letters became the ultimate antidote to AI

Jennifer Bishop never imagined that a single TikTok post would transform her modest pen pal venture into a movement.

But in late 2024, a video about London Letters, her adult pen pal club, inexplicably caught fire on social media. Within weeks, sign-ups surged from one or two people per week to 300 per day.

"It was complete madness," says Jennifer, who founded London Letters in 2019 after working in luxury stationery. "Within a month, I had tripled the size of the club."

The irony isn't lost on her. Technology made her anti-technology business go viral.

The businesses’ explosive growth coincides with what she identifies as a profound shift in how people want to connect. As artificial intelligence infiltrates every corner of modern life, from customer service to creative writing, her members are consciously choosing the opposite – slow, tactile, human communication.

Jennifer says:

"What people are craving is a genuine form of connection. Even when we go to get-togethers now, we're often overwhelmed by people taking photos or videos. You're not ever really having genuine contact anymore."

London Letter membership is 95% female, with members ranging from 18-year-olds who've never received a handwritten letter in their life, to retirees rediscovering a lost art. The youngest cohort, she said, finds letter writing "almost quite a novel idea of this kind of strange old-fashioned thing".

Grandma hobbies

But it's not nostalgia driving the trend; it's necessity. Jennifer connects the letter-writing boom to a broader return to what she calls grandma hobbies like crocheting, knitting, book clubs, and other tactile, cosy pursuits.

"Because of so many things we receive and do now that are either written by AI or created by AI, our brains are craving real use," she says. "Writing a letter is incredibly mindful. You're taking all of your energy for that moment to think of what you want to write to somebody."

It's the antidote to what's become known as brain rot – the phenomenon of opening an app to check one thing and losing 20 minutes to the algorithm. Social media is designed to be addictive, Jennifer reflects, and people are seeking refuge in activities that offer something tangible in return for their time investment.

Breaking down the digital echo chambers

London Letter’s mission extends far beyond nostalgia for handwritten correspondence. Jennifer is on a quiet crusade to combat the social polarisation weaponised by social media algorithms.

"I'm really interested in the colonisation of society because of social media and how it's creating this scary world," she explains. "We see extreme right-wing and left-wing content; these polarising videos impact people's psychology, even if it's subconscious."

She wants to find a way for people with opposing views to communicate and get to know each other without prejudice. 

This idea sparked her latest venture – a second pen pal club specifically for book lovers, where members match based on reading genres and favourite titles rather than demographics or political identities.

"I thought that if we are only talking about books, I might connect with a Mormon in Utah, for example, who enjoyed reading Harry Potter, and I also enjoyed reading Harry Potter," Jennifer says. "I don't know anything about their religion or their beliefs, but we can find common ground through this one thing."

The radical act of connection

"My hope is that through that, people will learn from one another and will realise that there's light and dark with everyone, and we can all still get along.

“Because one of my fears with social media is that we're heading potentially to some kind of civil war," she fears.

The stakes, she believes, couldn't be higher. Social media platforms monetise engagement, and the most shocking, rage-inducing content gets shared the most. It's created what's now called ‘rage bait’ – content designed specifically to make people angry and keep them watching.

"It's just led to this really negative space," Jennifer continues. "We're ending up too opinionated on things that don't really matter day-to-day and that you could still be friends with someone about."

She wants people to talk instead about books, hobbies, or shared interests in their letters, before they ever discuss politics.

"I think it's really important to ask the question of people in a non-argumentative way," she explains. "It's quite interesting to understand why someone believes a certain way, even if you don't.

"You just broaden your horizon a bit. Conversations are really important about that sort of topic, not just like, 'Oh, this is clearly a moron, and I'm never going to listen to them.'"

Stamp duty

Letter writing has become a much more expensive hobby, though. With first-class stamps now costing nearly £2 and Royal Mail facing financial turbulence, the barrier to entry has risen significantly.

London Letters' entire operation, of course, uses technology. Members join online, create profiles via email, and only share physical addresses once they've established trust. 

"I think it's important not to ignore AI," Jennifer adds. "But I think it's also important to promote things that preserve things outside of technology."

Preserving the human touch

London Letters members aren't Luddites. They're simply people who've realised that efficiency isn't everything, that speed isn't always progress, and that sometimes the most revolutionary act is picking up a pen and writing to a stranger about your favourite book.

In a world where AI can write your emails, generate your art, and even craft your dating profile, perhaps the ultimate luxury is taking the time to be authentically, inefficiently, beautifully human and write a letter and walk to the post box.

The erosion of authentic self-expression troubles Jennifer deeply. While she uses AI as a collaborative tool for her business, testing product ideas and refining customer communications, she's adamant that the actual letters must remain untouched by algorithms.

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