On Allergies And Things

I woke at 6am, knowing I needed to finish my marketing assignment today.  It's bigger and more complex  than I expected but already I see the beauty and sense of what it is teaching me.

This course is all about authentically marketing your business.  It's not about bluff, bluster, or exaggeration.  It's about telling your story and telling it true.  But it's challenging.  It's demanding.  I like it.

If you were to watch the video of me writing this post, you might be tempted to send it viral.  I'm not sure but I think it might be amusing.  I woke at 6am, sneezing.  Nose running like a river in flood.  It's this thing that I do here in Genova sometimes. A small allergy I suspect but no, no anti-histamines thank you very much.

There is a mountain of paper kitchen towels next to me here.  I stop to sneeze 3 or 4  times every few minutes.   Then continue ... writing, finding the photograph.  Concentrating. Sneezing, blowing my nose.  Typing.  Laughing at myself as I became aware of the scene.

It looks like another blue sky day outside my window and Stefano's Righicam promises 12 celsius today. I will write and that's not to be sneezed at ...  because yesterday I was formally introduced to the Tramontana Scura.  The dark north wind.  It was cold and rained periodically.

This morning the sun has already turned the building down by Porta Soprana a pale gold.  My camera may come with me when I go out in search of that first espresso.  The light here, in this city of soft golds through into orange, is often divine but it's not simple to find.  You have to hunt for it. To allow for the fact that the narrow carrugio sometimes only see the midday sun. It is a city of mystery.  A maze of a city.


The Lovin Genova Blog

Sometimes, I write a blog post and it hits a wrong note.  If it stays wrong in my mind, I delete it.  Sorry about that ...

Nice news today is that the new Lovin Genova Blog, created by the Office for the Development and Promotion of Tourism of the City of Genoa, has one of my posts up.  It's titled, From The Outside Looking In.

Davide Chelli has written a beautiful post that takes you inside the Oriental Market, on Via XX Settembre in Genova.

On Writing ...

I had forgotten the glorious agony of writing an article for a particular audience ... such is the luxury of writing whatever I want on my blog.

I have been carrying this idea that I could only write this particular article when I was ready ... when I was sure that all I would write would be perfection itself. 

Weeks later, I was still wringing my hands about it because the deadline had been far into the future.  Then the future arrived and what would I write?  How would I incorporate my best images into this text? 

I had raised the bar fairly high in my mind ...

Last night, as I was going to sleep, I thought of the series of fountain images I had added to my previous post and I knew that I had it.  A beginning point, an inspiration, a concrete image of the feeling I wanted to capture.

And so it was, after our Sunday Belgian breakfast of pastries and coffee, that I sat down to write.  And how I wrote ... and wrote, and wrote some more.  Finally, slightly lost, I handed it over and asked the more level-headed Belgian bloke if he might read it through and see where I was. 

Whimper.

He handed it back and told me ...   It seemed, to him, that I might have attempted to squeeze the outline of my entire book into 5 pages of text.  It was a little incoherent and he couldn't find a clear line through it.  Of course, I had wanted my best stuff in the article ... all of it!

Perhaps a prayer was needed.  Something like, Oh enthuisiam, oh passion ... be still so I can write more coherently.

Anyway, that explained my lost feeling and allowed me to pull back out of the work.

And so I reread and found the story I wanted to tell.   I had to remove some favourite photographs from the article.   I had to disappear some favourite tales too.  Paragraphs were slashed as I read.

I need to leave it a few hours now.  Weeks would be better.  I have always preferred to spend time away from a first draft, sneaking up on it at some later date and hoping to read it as a stranger.  It's more effective than you can imagine.

When I write here on the blog I write fast and, for some reason that must be entirely frustrating to those with blog readers, I edit best after I've published.   It's a luxury that I don't have when I write for others.  Even when I edit for others, the final draft is with them.  The post-publish quirk is one that has probably lost me more than a few subscribers.  I must work on that.

The thing about writing so intensely, and I had forgotten this peculiar pain, is that when I write it all out like that there is this horrible emptiness when I stop.  As if all of my intensity and energy has been poured directly into the writing, like an IV that pumps my blood to a new location ... outside of me.

I came here in an attempt to step back from the intensity of the last few hours.  Actually, I did have rather a lot of fun creating storyboards to focus me down on the writing.  Here's one I can't use ...

My borrowed 'desk' in Genova.  The one by the open window that looks out over the carruggio, and a selection of the flowers that I always buy as that first thing I must do in the city.