Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

I’ve decided to stop writing my blog for a while. It’s not that I’ve run out of things to say; rather, I’ve run out of enthusiasm. And one must be eager to write what one must.

When I started my blog in May, 2004, I made a personal commitment that I would not write anything for public purview that I wouldn’t shout from the corners of State and Madison Streets in the heart of downtown Chicago. I might impugn some public figure, but people in the public eye were fair game. I might express my disgust at a certain person or subject, but whatever I wrote I would have said to that person’s face.

I kept this promise, although in some cases it limited my free speech. For instance, when I was annoyed or frustrated with a family member and wanted to write about it my blog was not the outlet. It just never seemed fair to reveal family issues to the world. When I wanted to examine some possible off-color topic, my blog wasn’t the place either, because I didn’t want to disappoint readers who sought gentle commentary over blatant expose.

Now I feel the need to write in private; and, given the amount of time I have to write each day, I must make choices. There’s the book I want to edit, the essays I want to hone, the new ones I want to write so they don’t die in my head. To do this, I must cut back on my blog and my web site.

This decision has been coming for a while, although I didn’t recognize it until this past weekend. But looking back, I’ve begun to skip days and then dreaded catching up. I’ve sighed when I sat down to write, as if it were a chore. I’ve felt as if my mini-essays were all sounding alike too. So it’s time to take a breather.

My plan is that the break is temporary, and I’ll return to blogging one day fairly soon. Yet, if I don’t take this break, then neither the projects I want to tackle nor my blog will receive conscientious attention. That’s not a good thing.

I’m reminded of an A. E. Housman poem, “To An Athlete Dying Young.” It’s about a young athlete, dead before his time. While the community mourns, Housman notes that he died in the prime of his life and never experienced waning ability or lack of public interest. In a way, I’m like that athlete. I want to quit while I’m ahead and not when readers pass me by.