If I Cannot Email It, It Doesn’t Exist
At the beginning of my education, learning how to write was a big struggle. Why was it so important to learn this skill? Handwriting is fundamental to our knowledge base. It gives us the ability to record thoughts and observations. With it, we can create stories, reports, records, transactions, plans, and goals. Without it, we cannot communicate.
Fast forward to my life today, and my handwriting has not improved. So, I make a point not to use a pen, and I also avoid printing documents. This approach is not a green crusade; it is a core philosophy, which is, “If I cannot email it, it doesn’t exist.”
This way of life began during the dawn of my computing first steps, the word processor. With this fantastic tool, I could create a document, allowing me to capture the thoughts in my bonkers mind and print them. And the result? While the grammar, spelling, and content were atrocious, the words were crystal clear. This sudden freedom was incredible, like taking the first breath of fresh air.
And there was more good news. With a few keyboard presses, I could apply changes, including fixing an error, deleting a section, or copying a section. Then, as if by the wave of a wizard’s arm, I could print the corrected document. I could even change a single letter and reprint the entire document.
There was even better news. I could make a copy of that digital file and give it to a person on a five-inch floppy disk. What this meant is that a humble person like me (and everyone else) could distribute words to the entire world.
Today, I create a wide range of digital files, including computer programs, digital pictures, books, videos, audio, lists, databases, 3D models, and my resume. Even my phone can take a photo and send it to somebody.
Yet… That is not what my philosophy is about, so allow me to provide an example. My former boss at the fourth company I worked for was adamant that I keep a notebook. So, I did; we all did. My notes and drawings were abysmal; lousy even by my standards.
Meanwhile, I generated excellent reports and properly stored them on the company server and my local drive, ensuring they were backed up.
When someone asked me about a project I had worked on, I would email them one of my detailed documents. If I did not have the exact information available, I would write a well-worded email to address their request. What did they get? Precisely what they asked for, and if not, we would professionally go back and forth via email to get the answers they needed.
What did they do with the information or files I provided? They used my content to enhance their work, stored it for later use, used it as the basis for a new design, or forwarded it to their peers who did the same.
Meanwhile, my boss maintained over a hundred notebooks. When I had a question, he would photocopy a page out of his notebook. This knowledge storage approach was incredibly frustrating, and I told him point-blank multiple times, “If you cannot email it, it doesn’t exist.” He disliked my philosophy and continued down this path. What was his result? Allow a side tangent to explain.
At the same company, I took over a project from an employee who left. He documented the design in four notebooks and two drawers jammed with file folders. Fortunately, the official drawings were in digital format. It took him two years of hard work to generate this mound of paperwork.
The notebooks and file folders had endless pages of hand calculations, hand-drawn graphs, handwritten observations, and mounds of printed test data. It was well organized, but I could not make any progress with it. Why?
The design was complex, making it unclear how it worked. What was missing was a basic overview, a basic description, pictures of the tests, and explanations of how the tests were conducted. Most importantly, no single document described the entire project or why certain design decisions were made.
What about the data captured during a test? Yes, and that was all printed, but the original files were deleted. Bonehead! What about the official drawings? They were digital and clear. The problem was that they only explained how to manufacture the item.
As a result, the technicians and I were unable to troubleshoot. So, I started documenting from scratch, beginning with the released drawings. In the process, I attempted to refer to the paper files and notebooks, but they were too cryptic. It took two months to fully understand the design, answer people’s questions, and develop formal documents.
In creating my documentation, I avoided handwritten calculations, as I was unsure which one matched the released design. Instead, I developed my calculations based on the digital files.
I kept the paper files for a year and then tossed them. When people had questions, I emailed them my files. Why did I throw away the paper? I could have at least scanned them in for posterity.
The answer is that the random pages were incomprehensible because it was impossible to know where to start. And there was a bigger problem called double documentation. This occurs when there are multiple places to obtain information. In other words, it is unclear which file is the most up-to-date. What the company needed was a central repository of clear information to allow employees to understand the design quickly.
Still, one could argue that my document was incomplete because it lacked test data. True, but what it did have was a clear starting point for a knowledgeable person to determine answers. A test cannot explain anything unless it is conducted within a specific context.
My philosophy goes further. Some people hoard their digital files, never allowing them to be on a public server or be emailed. I think of this kind of data like the gold at Fort Knox. The people in charge are certainly not going to give me a single nugget. Meaning that, from my perspective, the gold does not exist. Now, if somebody gives me one of those gold bars and I take a picture of it, then I can email it. Only then will it exist in my life.
Take this article. I can email it to you, and then you can store it on your computer, read it, forward it to a friend, send it to a website, or delete it. This makes my creation valuable. Now, if I wrote this article in a notebook? Who cares? I would argue that the effort is worse than not writing at all.
What about my daughter’s generation? They would insist that email is obsolete. “If I cannot text it to you, it does not exist.” I suppose I agree, but texting only works until it does not. The problem occurs when trying to save, archive, store, or use a text message. At least with an email or file on a USB drive, the data can be moved around.
What about my grocery list? Yes, I am still old school and do not use my phone. Instead, I write down the items on a Post-it. True, but that is also my point. That Post-it is a one-time use device, meaning it has no future value.
What would my former boss think of this article? Many people feel that a handwritten or printed document is more valuable. To them, email, searching, indexing, and archiving are not nearly as important as an original. They would point out that something done by hand is special, personal, and a one-of-a-kind original. Translation: Some documents were never meant to be emailed.
What about a legal document? It is called “signed” for a reason; somebody took out a pen and signed it. Original signed documents cannot be emailed. While there are digital signatures, I agree that a signed document is the only legally acceptable form. Still, I can scan a hand-signed document or any other original and email it.
It is what happens next that proves my point. Once I have the digital file of a scanned document, I can make multiple backups. If the original document is destroyed, I still have numerous copies; in theory, forever, unlike a single document, which can only exist in one place.
Why did I write this article? My philosophy might seem arrogant. Here is a computer guy blabbing about making everything digital. Somebody might want to give me a kick in the bum and say, “Feel that? That’s not digital.” All true, but not my goal.
Instead, I am examining an approach to information. When I create or obtain something, I am always thinking about how to make it the most useful. This philosophy is part of that process, and I hope it has given you something to think about. Or, am I crazy? Yeah, that’s more likely.
You’re the best -Bill
July 30, 2025
Fast forward to my life today, and my handwriting has not improved. So, I make a point not to use a pen, and I also avoid printing documents. This approach is not a green crusade; it is a core philosophy, which is, “If I cannot email it, it doesn’t exist.”
This way of life began during the dawn of my computing first steps, the word processor. With this fantastic tool, I could create a document, allowing me to capture the thoughts in my bonkers mind and print them. And the result? While the grammar, spelling, and content were atrocious, the words were crystal clear. This sudden freedom was incredible, like taking the first breath of fresh air.
And there was more good news. With a few keyboard presses, I could apply changes, including fixing an error, deleting a section, or copying a section. Then, as if by the wave of a wizard’s arm, I could print the corrected document. I could even change a single letter and reprint the entire document.
There was even better news. I could make a copy of that digital file and give it to a person on a five-inch floppy disk. What this meant is that a humble person like me (and everyone else) could distribute words to the entire world.
Today, I create a wide range of digital files, including computer programs, digital pictures, books, videos, audio, lists, databases, 3D models, and my resume. Even my phone can take a photo and send it to somebody.
Yet… That is not what my philosophy is about, so allow me to provide an example. My former boss at the fourth company I worked for was adamant that I keep a notebook. So, I did; we all did. My notes and drawings were abysmal; lousy even by my standards.
Meanwhile, I generated excellent reports and properly stored them on the company server and my local drive, ensuring they were backed up.
When someone asked me about a project I had worked on, I would email them one of my detailed documents. If I did not have the exact information available, I would write a well-worded email to address their request. What did they get? Precisely what they asked for, and if not, we would professionally go back and forth via email to get the answers they needed.
What did they do with the information or files I provided? They used my content to enhance their work, stored it for later use, used it as the basis for a new design, or forwarded it to their peers who did the same.
Meanwhile, my boss maintained over a hundred notebooks. When I had a question, he would photocopy a page out of his notebook. This knowledge storage approach was incredibly frustrating, and I told him point-blank multiple times, “If you cannot email it, it doesn’t exist.” He disliked my philosophy and continued down this path. What was his result? Allow a side tangent to explain.
At the same company, I took over a project from an employee who left. He documented the design in four notebooks and two drawers jammed with file folders. Fortunately, the official drawings were in digital format. It took him two years of hard work to generate this mound of paperwork.
The notebooks and file folders had endless pages of hand calculations, hand-drawn graphs, handwritten observations, and mounds of printed test data. It was well organized, but I could not make any progress with it. Why?
The design was complex, making it unclear how it worked. What was missing was a basic overview, a basic description, pictures of the tests, and explanations of how the tests were conducted. Most importantly, no single document described the entire project or why certain design decisions were made.
What about the data captured during a test? Yes, and that was all printed, but the original files were deleted. Bonehead! What about the official drawings? They were digital and clear. The problem was that they only explained how to manufacture the item.
As a result, the technicians and I were unable to troubleshoot. So, I started documenting from scratch, beginning with the released drawings. In the process, I attempted to refer to the paper files and notebooks, but they were too cryptic. It took two months to fully understand the design, answer people’s questions, and develop formal documents.
In creating my documentation, I avoided handwritten calculations, as I was unsure which one matched the released design. Instead, I developed my calculations based on the digital files.
I kept the paper files for a year and then tossed them. When people had questions, I emailed them my files. Why did I throw away the paper? I could have at least scanned them in for posterity.
The answer is that the random pages were incomprehensible because it was impossible to know where to start. And there was a bigger problem called double documentation. This occurs when there are multiple places to obtain information. In other words, it is unclear which file is the most up-to-date. What the company needed was a central repository of clear information to allow employees to understand the design quickly.
Still, one could argue that my document was incomplete because it lacked test data. True, but what it did have was a clear starting point for a knowledgeable person to determine answers. A test cannot explain anything unless it is conducted within a specific context.
My philosophy goes further. Some people hoard their digital files, never allowing them to be on a public server or be emailed. I think of this kind of data like the gold at Fort Knox. The people in charge are certainly not going to give me a single nugget. Meaning that, from my perspective, the gold does not exist. Now, if somebody gives me one of those gold bars and I take a picture of it, then I can email it. Only then will it exist in my life.
Take this article. I can email it to you, and then you can store it on your computer, read it, forward it to a friend, send it to a website, or delete it. This makes my creation valuable. Now, if I wrote this article in a notebook? Who cares? I would argue that the effort is worse than not writing at all.
What about my daughter’s generation? They would insist that email is obsolete. “If I cannot text it to you, it does not exist.” I suppose I agree, but texting only works until it does not. The problem occurs when trying to save, archive, store, or use a text message. At least with an email or file on a USB drive, the data can be moved around.
What about my grocery list? Yes, I am still old school and do not use my phone. Instead, I write down the items on a Post-it. True, but that is also my point. That Post-it is a one-time use device, meaning it has no future value.
What would my former boss think of this article? Many people feel that a handwritten or printed document is more valuable. To them, email, searching, indexing, and archiving are not nearly as important as an original. They would point out that something done by hand is special, personal, and a one-of-a-kind original. Translation: Some documents were never meant to be emailed.
What about a legal document? It is called “signed” for a reason; somebody took out a pen and signed it. Original signed documents cannot be emailed. While there are digital signatures, I agree that a signed document is the only legally acceptable form. Still, I can scan a hand-signed document or any other original and email it.
It is what happens next that proves my point. Once I have the digital file of a scanned document, I can make multiple backups. If the original document is destroyed, I still have numerous copies; in theory, forever, unlike a single document, which can only exist in one place.
Why did I write this article? My philosophy might seem arrogant. Here is a computer guy blabbing about making everything digital. Somebody might want to give me a kick in the bum and say, “Feel that? That’s not digital.” All true, but not my goal.
Instead, I am examining an approach to information. When I create or obtain something, I am always thinking about how to make it the most useful. This philosophy is part of that process, and I hope it has given you something to think about. Or, am I crazy? Yeah, that’s more likely.
You’re the best -Bill
July 30, 2025
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