Judging others is easy. The distance of perspective makes it instinctual. You can spot mistakes and missteps instantly by standing back, like looking at a crooked picture.

Turning that scrutiny on yourself is impossible. You can see the same deeds, but it’s somehow reflected back to you all backwards and funhouse. Is it good or not? Do I like it irrationality, or hate it unfairly?

Mirthful Grisham chortles at your folly. He knows one can never stand in judgment of oneself. You can be an effective creator or an efficient editor, and never at the same time.

I’ve spent the past week looking at everything I’ve made in the past year, trying to pick the best. That part in The Pelican Brief (the book duh*) where the gal is changing her hair color for the fifth time hurrying before the door gets broken down? That “what am I looking at, is this the right choice, will it be enough?” It’s not dissimilar.

If “we’re our own worst critics,” I don’t think they mean harshest. They mean worst.

Next time I’m turning it all over to a Runaway Jury. Or Twelve Angry Men? Either.

*I went through a large Grisham phase in high school. Judge not…

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