There are those who turn the lack of a topic into a topic for a journalistic piece. The choice is absurd in a world like ours, where things of incalculable interest are happening. Someone who thinks of sitting down to write about nothing need only flip casually through the day’s newspaper to make the initial problem turn into its exact opposite: how to know which topic to choose out of the many on offer. See, for example, the front page of your average newspaper. “Two children burned while playing with flying saucers.” Light a cigarette. Look over, very carefully, the scrambled alphabet of the Underwood and begin with the most attractive letter. Think—once you’ve read the information—of the painful loss of prestige flying saucers have just suffered. Remember the number of articles that have been written about them, since they appeared for the first time—almost two years ago, somewhere around Arkansas—until now, when they’ve turned into simple yet dangerous children’s toys. Consider the situation of the poor little flying saucers, who, like ghosts, get no respect from humanity despite their elevated category of interplanetary element. Light another cigarette and consider, finally, that it’s a useless topic due to its excessive speed.
Then read the international news. “Brazil will not have a surplus of coffee at its disposal this year.” Ask yourself, “Who could care about this?” And carry on reading. “The problem of the Mares settlers is not a simple legal case.” “El Carare, a great surprise.” Read the editorials. In each adjective, find the fingerprint of the implacable censor. All, in reality, of undeniable interest. But none seem like an appropriate topic. What to do? The most logical thing: look at the comic strips. Pancho cannot leave his house. Tío Barbas attends a pistol duel to the death. Clark Kent has to fight against Superman and vice versa. Tarzan becomes a dealer in skulls. Avivato stole, as usual, a string of fish. Penny attends a philosophy class. How awful! And now what: the society page. Two who are getting married when life is so expensive and the climate so hot. Generalísimo Franco’s daughter marries a gentleman who will henceforth be known as none other than the dictator’s “son-in-lawísimo.” One dies and seven are born. Light another cigarette. Think that you’re getting to the end of the newspaper and still haven’t decided on a topic. Remember your wife, the scene of children waiting, starving to death, and who will continue dying indefinitely as long as there’s no appropriate topic. It’s terrible! We’re starting to get sentimental. No! There are still the movie ads. Ah, but yesterday we wrote about cinema. After this, the flood!
Light another cigarette and discover—with horror—that it was the last one in the pack. And the last match! Night is falling and the hands of the clock turn, turn, turn, performing the dance of the hours (Caliban). And now what? Throw in the towel like a mediocre boxer? Journalism is the profession that most resembles boxing, with the advantage that the typewriter always wins and the disadvantage that you’re not allowed to throw in the towel. We’d be left with no Jirafa column. Great, so many will applaud the idea. However, you once heard a phrase that is now affected and worn out from use and abuse: “It’s never too late to make a good start.” That is, starting is the difficult part. We begin, then, now without cigarettes, without matches, to find a topic. We write a first sentence: “There are those who turn the lack of a topic into a topic for a journalistic piece.” The choice is absurd…but so damn easy! Isn’t it?
April 11, 1950, El Heraldo, Barranquilla