For the past couple of months I've been thinking a lot about my blog.
On the one hand, I love writing about my life - and I especially love the discipline of trying to post something every day.
On the other hand, I sometimes find myself struggling to keep up that pace. There's not really something significant to talk about every day, so some days I find myself reaching for things that aren't really there. There is also the danger of missing actual real-life events because I'm thinking about what I might say in a blog about those real-life events.
(I have been part of weddings where the wedding party seemed so interested in getting a world-class video of the event that the video itself seemed to be more important than the wedding. Sometimes I feel that something like that is happening when I blog.)
So I've been thinking about this for a couple of months. And my conclusion is this: after today, I won't be blogging every day.
It's been a good run. Over the past thirteen months, I've posted almost 400 blogs. And I'm so gratified that people are reading what I'm writing. Thank you for your interest!
At the same time, I'm convinced that it's time for a change. So from this point forward, I'll be blogging occasionally. I'm not sure exactly what occasional means. It could mean once a week, or it could mean once a year. I'll see how things go.
My decision is motivated by two distinct feelings.
First, as I mentioned earlier, it's tough to keep up this pace. I realize that I'm spending quite a few hours every week writing my entries - and it's probably better to use that time in other ways. I won't stop writing - I'll just stop writing the blog. Who knows? Maybe I'll start working on some other things that will show up one day in other settings. (Coming to a book store near you . . .)
Second, blogging (for me) makes me feel more and more vulnerable. You might think that's a good thing - but it's uncomfortable for an introvert like me. If you have been following the story line, you know that these past few months have been dramatically difficult for our family. And while I am helped as I write about my experiences, I feel that it's time to go dark for a while. If I were writing fiction, I could probably get away with some revealing narratives. But this isn't fiction; it's my life. And it feels better right now to keep some things inside. I can barely put into words what I'm feeling about things that have happened to me and to my family over the past couple of years. And it's probably wise and necessary to keep most of that to myself.
Some people have suggested that I avoid the personal topics and simply write about other things. But I've discovered that almost every thing I can write about is personal. At least that's true for the things that I care most about.
And here's my point: probably the best place to share personal thoughts is in the context of close, intimate, trusting relationship - and it's hard to maintain that kind of context in a blog. Blogging - even if it's focused on personal things - is intensely impersonal. By definition, a blog is one-sided. I'm not even sure who is reading all that I'm writing. And that fact alone means that I have to be guarded in what I say. There's nothing wrong with that, of course. Boundaries are often good for us. On the other hand, it's hard to write about things that you can't really write about. In a blog, it's not possible to say everything that needs to be said. And some things can't be said at all. And the context is not always clear. What's more, it is so easy to be misunderstood.
So the best place to have those conversations is probably around the kitchen table or on the front porch. In those settings, we can notice body language. We can ask for clarification. We can watch for facial expressions. We can pay attention to nuance. We can actually have dialogue. If we truly care about one another, we might even be able to talk about controversial matters. We even have to decide whether or not to show up for the conversation.
In contrast, a blog sometimes feel like lobbing a grenade. And that can happen at the kitchen table and on the front porch too - it's just less likely.
Anyway. That's what I'm thinking. For now, I'm just going to change things up and see what happens.
If you're genuinely interested in what's on my mind, I guess we'll need to sit down and talk.
Again, thanks for sticking with me this year. It's been a good run . . .