The burden of a young poet

I can argue that I am a poet, though I haven't been published yet. I write poetry. That's what poets do. But this entry is more about being a writer. A writer in its broad sense from the creative to the newsworthy. Young poet just sounded more poetic as a title, and since I'm a poet/writer - I'm weak for the poetic.

As a young aspiring journalist you often set yourself up for disappointments. I'm talking out of own experience, but I'm sure others can relate to what's not even rejection, but silent non-existent response from editors whose desks or email inboxes are flooded with hopeful submissions. What are the chances of your story getting read? I actually tried to calculate the probability, but truth is that I don't have a clue.

When I write a news feature or a profile feature I believe in myself, and I'm often convinced that this is it. This piece is going to be in the Argus, the Cape Times or the Mail & Guardian. I picture myself getting up early early in the morning - no snoozing - rushing to buy the newspaper, overly excited of course, holding it in my hands, opening it up - electric fingertips and all - and there it is: by Siri Linn Brandsoy.

This hasn't happened yet, though I've gotten some positive feedback. I'm still waiting for my debut knowing that expectations can be dangerous - they are the root of all heartache according to William Shakespeare - but still I expect. I dream. And I'm writing this blog to publish myself, to better my writing muscles. It keeps me committed, though I don't write every day. I'm to busy trying to get published elsewhere because the "high achievement always takes place in the framework of high expectation." (Charles F. Kettering (American engineer, inventor of the electric starter, 1876-1958.)

There was in particular a story that I was really passionate about writing, and publishing in the Big Issue, about the South African trials for the Homeless Soccer World Cup 2010. I thought it was a wonderful story because most of us don't know that there is a Soccer World Cup for homeless people. It's such a great contribution to support and help 'the people of the street.' Even though it's not the Fifa World Cup we should know about the event so we can cross our fingers for the South African team when they go to Brazil later this year. We should show our support, wish them good luck and acknowledge them because they've spent enough time in their lives without recognition.

I talked to the Big Issue editor on the phone, I called her up to remind her to read my article, I wrote her emails and eventually she said "I'll read it and get back to you next week." Next week passed and I contacted her again without any luck. I'm not mentioning this because I'm bitter. I do understand the burden of an editor as well as my own burden. In the journalist world I'm still a nobody. I'm in the nobody pile. The irony is that someone has to be the first to open up the door, to read my article and to publish it for me to be somebody. And if no one does, who will know the stories of our ordinary heroes? Who will know that Colin Davis (19) went from living on the streets of Cape town, playing at the Homeless World Cup in Italy 2009, to coaching soccer to underprivileged kids?

I'm committed to telling these alternative stories that challenge our stereotypes. I know that one day I'll buy 5 copies of a newspaper rather than 1, because my name is in it: by Siri Linn Brandsoy. I'm like that boy in Charles Dudley Warner's quote: "The boy who expects every morning to open into a new world finds that today is like yesterday, but he believes tomorrow will be different.”

Charles Dudley Warner was a writer and an editor.