You are on page 1of 2

I began writing letters to editors on a whim, fuelled by a curious zeal for how newspapers are nuclei of international dialogue

and the belief that I, a mere student, could catalyse this conversation. Even the most elite of newspapers offer this egalitarian policy, opening their submission windows for all to enter and express themselves. By fervently writing these letters, which ranged on topic from the surge of counterfeit Apple stores to the Epicurean reflections of Lucretius, I immersed myself in a vortex of hyper-information. I found myself not only absorbing every story available for the sake of adding to my database of knowledge, but devising replies. The often bizarre facts and figures I retained fuelled my success in Quiz Bowl competitions and debates as the Co-President of ASL's Debate Club. Writing a letter (as opposed to a staccato "tweet") is like auditioning for an intellectual role in a thriller with focus, discipline and commitment. Editors want letters that are argumentative, humorous, concise and to-the-point, or a mix of all four. The reward, in exchange, is to have my observation, printed for the world to applaud, admire, criticise and respond to. Since editors dont notify you of publication, it must have come as an odd, if not slightly jocose, surprise for my parents to see their son discussing how the BBCs World Service is a remnant of erstwhile imperialism in the Financial Times Weekend Magazine one October morning. I felt my pulse racing with the thrill of artistic adrenalin; there was 16-year-old Shahid Mahdi and his 15 seconds of fame. The tumult of school and various commitments rolled by. Between editing "Jambalaya", the literature and fine arts magazine at my school, attending Tuesday night sessions of Will Fiennes' exclusive Writers Seminar, and running the London Marathon for the Spinal Research charity (despite recently having had twelve metal screws in my fractured left arm and being the youngest participant) among other activities, my schedule was by no means easy-going. Yet, the zest to be involved remained an unwavering fascination, and I made time to hammer away at responses. The bulk of my email accounts inboxes largely consist of automated No Reply: Thank you for your letter... messages from papers and magazines across the globe. Ultimately, my perseverance produced results. Publications in Time magazine and The Daily Telegraph followed, as did one in the holy grail of newspapers, The Economist, after fourteen attempts. What I found to be most heartening is that I, a boy among giants, was selected. Whereas MPs, Congressmen, CEOs, bankers and diplomats had experience in their respective fields as a

bulwark for their opinion, I had no credentials other than the fact that I was a voracious reader and passionate writer. I live in an age of tweets, blogs, and chats; a world where forums and walls are synonymous with social media rather than architecture, and where nonsensical babble saturates the internet. Writing a letter may be archaic in comparison, though I feel the proverbial pen - or rather, the keyboard - is mightier than the sword, and channeling my thoughts keeps me in the global loop. The satisfaction of seeing your name in that unique font, on that page, in that newspaper, is almost as grand as realising that youre influencing the conversations of people youll never know. I see my infatuation with letters and news as a foundation to greater ventures in writing and the art of journalism. What today may be a 300 word letter seeking editorial approval could grow into a 6,000 word New Yorker story in the future.

You might also like