Advice for the hobby addicted

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In his book "On Writing," Stephen King offers a ghoulish bit of advice that suits the king of horror. For the good of the finished product, he writes, sometimes you have to "kill your babies."Your babies, King explains, are those lines or passages that you love most -- sometimes the phrase or sentence that inspires an entire chapter. And though it stings, it's advice I've taken to heart. Sort of.So far as the column is concerned, I'm more likely to put my babies up for adoption. The passages I can't bear to delete are saved for later use and sometimes appear online. But in the real world, away from the word processor, I collect babies like Angelina Jolie turned loose in a neonatal unit.My babies are my hobbies, and each one is another hungry mouth to feed.Some people like to list hobbies at the end of a resume, to highlight some humanity in an otherwise dull list of achievements. My hobbies would overwhelm my job history, crowd out my professional affiliations and smother my references. They would have to be offered as a bound supplemental publication. With an index.An abbreviated listing includes backpacking, cycling (road and mountain), spelunking, rock climbing, home-brewing, semi-gourmet cooking (Asian, Italian, Slavic and Southern; vegetarian and overtly carnivorous; organic and otherwise), gardening, golf, bowling, ultimate Frisbee, stringed instruments (guitar, mandolin, dulcimer), brass instruments (trumpet, French horn, garden hoses with trombone mouthpieces) and classic British automobile maintenance.In my free time, I work.This is just a brief listing of what immediately comes to mind, or what has recently cost me a percentage of discretionary income (which, obviously, is spent without much discretion). Every month or so, I take on something new. Last month was single-malt Scotch whisky. This month, I have my eye on a banjo. These two may share a causal relationship.There's a difference, of course, between a genuine hobby and fickle dabbling. Two things, though, separate me from the average dabbler. I rarely give up a hobby, and I'm reasonably good at everything I try.It might sound nice, but being "reasonably good" at everything you try is sort of like being King Midas at half power: Everything you touch turns to brass or high-quality vinyl flooring. And as anyone who takes a hobby seriously will understand, you eventually have to wonder if your "good" could be "great."As I take on yet another hobby, I begin to wonder if the difference between "good" and "great" is the difference between three pursuits and 30. I begin to wonder if it's worth abandoning X to spend more time with Y. I begin to consider (gulp) killing my babies.It's a question I've faced for most of an admittedly short life: Is it better to sacrifice breadth for the benefit of depth? Should we aim to excel in one or two things or endeavor to be "reasonably good" at more than a dozen? What, if anything, is worth sacrificing the possibility of greatness? My best answer, as I size up a new sport, instrument or diversion, is curiosity.In the end, I'm thankful for the curiosity that brings these hobbies to my door. Without it, I'd never muster the effort nor manage the talent necessary to accomplish anything. My curiosity is a child I'm not willing to abandon.I'm planning on a much bigger family.(Ben Grabow writes for the young, the urban and the easily amused. E-mail him at thinlyread(at)gmail.com.)(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, http://www.scrippsnews.com)