Well, indeed: last article

For me, the tricky part of writing an article is deciding what to talk about. I only write one this week, but I always struggle to choose a topic. Usually, once I have it and I've structured what I want to say in my head and on paper, I start writing and it flows pretty much on its own. Today, that's not happening: I know exactly what I want to talk about, but I don't know how to do it. In fact, this is the fifth draft I've written, and, for better or worse, it will be the final one, because I have to send the article to the editorial office soon. For now, on my computer, it has a very simple title, but one that makes its content very clear: "Latest Article." After several years writing for theNow we readI have to leave it, because starting in January I'm joining the Institut Ramon Llull teamIt's a job that excites me, that I'm very grateful for, that I have endless respect for, and that I consider a privilege. However, it has involved a sacrifice, because while I'm working, I won't be able to be a journalist.

Since I knew I'd be putting the profession on hold for a while, memories have been coming back to me, and I'm paying attention to certain things. This Friday, before speaking at The morning of Catalunya RàdioI swallowed it again. It wasn't the nerves of the last day; it happens to me every time. It seems unbelievable, so many years doing radio and still this restlessness that makes me clear my throat before opening my mouth. I don't rule out that there's a touch of insecurity in it, but I think it's mainly because I still respect live television, and I like that. It also happens when I do TV interviews. I always go without a script, and that's thanks to Pedro Ruiz. More than twenty years ago, I interviewed him on a summer program I was doing on COM Ràdio. He arrived and saw that I had a stack of papers in front of me, the interview he had prepared. Before we started, he suggested I put them aside and have a conversation. A little scared, I said okay, and the experiment worked out well. I understood very quickly that it was mainly about listening and looking at the person you're talking to. The next day, Ruiz, very generously, called me to say I didn't need notes, and that was that. Well, they ran out during the interview, because you need a lot beforehand.

A few days ago, the master Iñaki Gabilondo said something very important: "You have to have read a lot of papers to be able to do an interview without notes." And yet, even if you've prepared a lot, there are the nerves of the moment. My first television interview was with Michel Houellebecq, and the last will be the one that airs next Monday, with Mercè Ibarz. It's true that with the French author I had the palpitations typical of a debut and the stature of the person, but there was also a certain unease before the conversation with Ibarz, with whom I have a great deal of trust. Just like with radio, I like that constant state of alertness, which I find inherent to the profession. It also corresponds to knowing that there is someone listening to you, watching you, reading you. It's a responsibility; it's necessary to reciprocate the trust of listeners, viewers, and, in this case, readers. I want to say goodbye by thanking the readers who have followed me and, if I may, the extraordinary Culture team at ARA. They've had to take several leaps of faith, especially my dear Jordi Nopca, because I don't think any contributor submits their column as late as I do. My sincerest apologies, and thank you very much. I won't keep you waiting any longer: here's the last article.