When it comes to entertainment, most specifically movies and TV shows, I find myself to be quite a harsh critic, just ask my wife. After nearly every movie we watch together she asks me how I liked it. My typical response: it was pretty good. This is my calculated reply saying that the movie was so-so, alright, okay, something along those lines. And in case you were wondering, most movies out there receive this rating from me.

Why, you ask? Well, I’m not so sure. I perceive it may just be my low tolerance for mediocrity in entertainment. If it doesn’t wow, amaze, or make me really think about it, then I can’t give it a five star mental review. But, of course that’s just me. The film and TV show industries thrive off of making, in my opinion, mediocre productions all because most people like that sort of thing. And that is perfectly okay. I don’t want to go bashing anyone who enjoys sappy romances, cliched  dramas, and typical action films. That is not my place to judge (Though, don’t even get me started on soap operas! ughhhh).

Maybe I’m not as easily wowed as most people out there. Maybe it’s me. Yes, most likely there is something wrong with me.

Anyway, when it comes to myself, most specifically me, myself, and I, I find that I am my own worst critic, the harshest of them all. Even right now, I am calculating just how great this blog post is going to be and whether or not I should abandon writing it all together (For the reader’s sake, I will fight against this pressing feeling and post it, even if it truly sucks! Because who doesn’t love a crappy blog post?). Being such a difficult critic against myself, is by far the greatest enemy I face, especially when it comes to doing what I love, whether it’s writing or playing the drums. My own harshness can, at times, tear me down so much that I end up losing all faith in the project and put it on the shelf. I nearly did that several times with the writing and editing of my almost-finished novel. I would begin reworking a segment or touching up a chapter and then all of a sudden realize just how bad the story was and want to just throw it out altogether, hours and hours of work gone in seconds.

Thankfully that never happened. I’ll admit, there were times when I’d set the project aside for months on end because I had lost my desire for it, thinking that I’d never get anywhere with it, or that it could never be good enough. But each time I always came back to it. I knew it was meant to be written. I finally, very recently, realized that the story might actually be very good, and not just “pretty good,” as I so frequently label things.

All in all, being my own worst critic can downright devastate me at times, but it has also, in a way, helped me to strive above mediocrity. I don’t want to write just another novel, or be just an average musician, I want to be great; not in my own abilities themselves but in the songs that I play and the stories that I tell.

Thank you, reader, for following my ever messy and tumultuous journey.

Love unlimited!

C.J. Huffman