For those of you who have been following this blog since the beginning, you will know that some time ago I instituted the practice of asking a question at the end of most of my posts. This practice was something that I picked up from other successful bloggers in an attempt to generate conversation. I want you, my readers, to talk to me.

Some time ago (but not as “ago” as when I started asking questions; that wouldn’t make chronological sense), a couple of you started complaining about the questions. You said they were tacky and unwarranted and took away from my writing. I assured you that no one was judging my writing on the questions.

Last night, when I was thinking about my blog (I think about it far too often), I decided that my assurances didn’t get to the point. I started thinking about my favorite posts, the ones of which I’m most proud. Very few of them have questions at the end.

If I am not proud of a piece, how can I ask you to read it? If I don’t like how a piece feels, how can I expect others to like it?

I know it seems like I should have come to this kind of conclusion weeks ago since I’ve been writing a post every day. But I didn’t. I came to it last night. Sometimes, I’m a slow learner.

I know everyone says that you can’t live for other people. And I know that roughly six billion people have said the same thing. But no one ever says why. The reason why you can’t live for other people is because when you do, the passion leaves, the art is gone, and the magic disappears.

Abolish more questions.

[P.S. I want to make it very clear that the abolition of questions means that I respect my readers enough that I think them confident enough to comment when they have something to say. I still want to hear what you have to say. Just because my posts no longer end in a question mark doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear your stories.]