I feel like I've been been decrying and lamenting my lack of genuine blogging (as opposed to endless playlists) here for some years now. But frankly, I've been an especially miserable blogger this past year or so. I've rarely even managed the bare-minimum gesture of posting links to my professional writing.
I'm not altogether certain why I continue to think that this matters, but to me, at least, it does.
Naturally, there have been reasons. Five I can think of, easily.
One is professional: It's hard enough to be an editor overseeing three separate cultural categories (pop music, classical music, and visual art) at a major metropolitan daily paper – and trying one's best to participate as a writer, too – in just those hours of the week that are explicitly devoted to doing so.
One is partnership: I've got a brilliant wife who deserves my complete attention and full engagement when I am not at the office, or at one of the increasingly infrequent performances I attend.
One is paternal: I've got a fabulous kid, whose care and maintenance are higher priorities than any extraneous workload could be.
One is preventative: Overwork has always been a condition to which I fall prey easily and naturally. The results are not pretty, or comfortable, or satisfying.
And one is personal, verging on private: My transition from New York City writer-editor to Boston editor-writer has been protracted, complicated, and at times uncomfortable – more so than I'd anticipated.