MediocreMan

Enemy of Good · 14 November 2026

They say that perfect is the enemy of good. Or something like that. I guess it is a good thing that I am not a perfectionist. Then again, maybe mediocre is as big of an enemy of good as perfection is… Nah.

I dug a little deeper and found that Voltaire wrote, “Le mieux est l’ennemi du bien” which means “The best is the enemy of the good.” At least according to whatever AI Google uses (I think it is called Gemini). I just wanted to go back a little closer to the source.

I must agree with Voltaire on this point. At least for my writing. Okay. Really for all of my life. If I seek perfection in all I do, I would never get anything done. Rather, if I had striven for perfection, I would never have gotten anything done. Wait. If I had waited to get anything done perfectly, I would never have gotten anything done. (Now that we have gotten that straight.) I labored over the correct way to say the last sentence (not the perfect way, mind you) because I do strive for perfection. I want to word things perfectly. I want to say things perfectly. I want my creations of any sort to be perfect. But I know they never will be, so I just get them good enough to get the message across. And I am okay with that. After all, something gets done that way. Good enough is good. It might not be great. It is certainly not perfect, but it is done. It is complete. And complete is a good thing.

I do wonder how many blog posts I would have gotten done had I kept working on each one until it was perfect. Or how many books I would have written had I kept editing until they were perfect. Or how many poems I would have composed. Actually, I do not wonder at all. I know that I would not have blogged a paragraph. I would not have finished a single book. I would have never penned a single poem. For how can even a single sentence of a blog or a single chapter of a book or a single stanza of a poem be perfect? They cannot. At least not in my mind. They can be good enough to convey the message though. And that is the whole point.

I do not write to have perfect blog posts or perfect books or perfect poems. I know they are flawed. And since I am in the digital world of self-publishing and on-demand printing, I can go back and change things any time I want. Which I do not do very often. Oh sure. I have done so a time or two, but mostly I stick with what I have released. (I have surely found blog post errors that I left alone.)

The point is that I have not let perfection get in the way of my mediocrity. I get a blog post done and call it good enough. Whether it meets the standard of mediocre or not. It is finished, so it is going to get posted. That is the way I think. If the thought is complete and it does not completely stink, it is good enough. And sometimes, it is good enough even if it does stink. (I wonder if that thought might be a future blog post. Hmm.)

At any rate.

I think this post is good enough. Good enough as Voltaire said long ago. So take my advice. No. Better yet, take Voltaire’s advice. Do not let perfection get in the way of something good. Do not let the perfection (that will never come) defeat the good.

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False Starts · 7 November 2026

Have you ever started writing and the writing goes nowhere? Yeah. Me neither. Still. It is frustrating and annoying when it happens.

I have been writing for about fifteen minutes or so this morning and gotten nothing done toward my blog. Okay. Not quite true. I started on two pieces (three if you count this one) and nothing yet. Which is not quite true. I had two false starts. I wrote a couple paragraphs on each of the other two pieces and that was it. Nothing else. Oh, not that the words were not coming. (Remember, I claim that there is no such thing as writer’s block.) No. It was that the words were not exciting. They were not really a blog post. Or at least not very long ones. And they were not complete ones either. So they were not going to get shipped. At least not in their current state. Which is okay.

The reason that false starts are okay to me is that they are starts. Oh sure. They do not get to the finish line. At least not on that day, but they are beginnings. And as Mary Poppins says, “Beginning is half done.” Or something like that. (If you believe the internet, somebody in antiquity said those words or something like them long before Mary Poppins.)

(I am beginning to think that this post might become a false start too. Then again, there is something to this piece. I am not sure what it is. After all, I just seem to be following some stream of consciousness. I am just writing and backspacing and writing some more. Who knows where it will end?)

As I think of false starts, I think of all the blog posts that are sitting in my document below the actual blog posts. There are lots of them. According to my writing software, about three-hundred pages worth. Which is about three-hundred blogs posts that did not make the cut or did not get finished or ended up being out of date. Three-hundred. I cannot really even imagine that. I actually have almost a year’s worth of blog posts that did not make the cut. That is quite amazing. A downer. But still, amazing.

Okay. That is not true. It is not a downer to me that I have over three-hundred blog posts that will not see the light of day. It is not a downer to me because it means that I have been writing. And half-written is more than half done. Really. For half-written means that something is getting down on paper. Something is getting out of the mind and into some document. Something is being created. And that is a good thing. For creativity is what blogging is all about for me. It is getting those words out somewhere. It is creating words and thoughts that somebody might appreciate. And even the half-finished thoughts that will never see the light of day have done something for me. They are reminders that I am forever working at my craft. And when we work at our craft, we will not always create masterpieces. Indeed, we may never create a masterpiece. I know I have not. And that is okay. For we just keep creating. Hoping that maybe one piece of writing will inspire somebody.

Okay. Nobody is probably ever going to be inspired by my writing. But they might appreciate my perseverance. For I have written through the years and posted something each week. And maybe that is worth something. I know that it is for me. It is worth all the false starts that I had today and all of the false starts that I have had since I started blogging.

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A Night to Dismember · 31 October 2026

WARNING: Contains a bit of gore.

It was supposed to be a nice quiet Halloween night with the family. Just the blood relatives. But it became the night to dismember when the werewolves showed up.

Now, not every Halloween is a full moon, but this one was. And I had warned the family that we should go to Vlad’s house instead of mine. After all, he has guards with dogs and we would have had lots of protection. After all, Vlad does live in a castle. But no. He and the rest of the family wanted to “slum it” as they said. They just wanted to hang out in the burbs. Which meant that we were having the party at my house. After all, I was the normal one. At least the most normal.

People started showing up shortly after dark. We heard the howling start, but it was far off. We did not even really think of the full moon. We just thought it was coyotes or regular wolves.

Vlad joked, “Wouldn’t it be crazy if those stupid werewolves showed up?”

The Count smiled. “They are your relatives Vlad. Maybe they’re sore you didn’t invite them.” He laughed. “Wah ha ha ha.” And, as always, thunder rolled after he laughed.

There was a knock on the door. “I wonder who that could be…” I rolled my eyes. I knew exactly who it was. I opened the door. “Hey Jack. ‘Sup.”

“Aroooooo! Can’t believe you didn’t invite us, bro.”

I nodded over my shoulder toward Vlad and the Count and the small gathering of family. “I just wanted to have a quiet Halloween for once.”

Jack nodded. “Just the blood relatives, huh? It’s okay. But you know…”

I nodded. “Yeah. I know. You’re my brother-in-law. Vlad said my sister, your wife, could come. He even said you could come as long as you were house trained.”

Vlad and the Count and the other family members laughed. Thunder rolled.

Jack snarled. “Arooooooo! Laugh all you want, you all. But I brought treats.”

Vlad sneered. (I could tell he was doing it without looking.) He said in a nasty tone, “Right, wolf man. What treats did you bring?”

My sister came in the door pulling a rope. A huge cart scraped the hardwood as she continued pulling. I saw what was in the cart and dropped my head into my hand. “Where’d you get ‘em, sis?”

She smiled. “They were on sale at the department store.”

Vlad and the Count had turned away from the door, but they turned around to hug my sister. Their arms were reaching out wide to embrace her when they saw the cart at the end of the slack rope. They each gave her a quick kiss instead of the big hug they had prepared for and went to the cart.

Vlad asked, “They’re not…”

“Dead?” Jack finished. “No, Vlad.” We know you and the Count and the blood relatives like warm blood. I’ll take the arms and legs when you two and the rest have sucked their blood. And those two…” He nodded toward my sister and me. “Those two normies can eat the pizza we brought.”

“Hey!” my sister interjected. “We’re only half normie. I’ll have a nightcap neck with my pizza.”

“I’ll pass. No bloodlust in me tonight. And I certainly do not want to eat with Jack.” I looked at the arm Jack had pulled off the body of the old lady Vlad had sucked dry. I looked at my sister. “And the old folks home is not a department store.”

She shrugged as she finished sucking on somebody’s neck. The Count was on his second neck.

Jack was gnawing on the humerus of the first dismembered bloodless corpse. He looked at me. “Oh yeah. We brought so many folks from the department store because we weren’t sure how many relatives would be here. Plus, the kids are here with us too.” He smiled. Then he whistled.

I started walking toward my entertainment room and without looking back called out to them all. “I’m going to watch a movie. The Great Pumpkin.”

The kids howled as they came into the front room. “Aroooooo! Can we drink and eat while we watch, Uncle Drac?”

I slumped. “Yes.” I sighed. “You might as well bring all your treats.”

Jack howled, “Arooooooo! This is gonna be a night to dismember!”

“You said it, Dad! Aroooooo!”

Vlad came up to me and whispered. “Don’t tell him, but I’m beginning to like your other relatives.”

Jack laughed. “I heard that.”

Everybody laughed. It was indeed a night to dismember. And remember.

[Write a story about a memorable event, but which is invaded by a hoard of creatures. Is the wedding crashed by zombies? Were vampires invited into the prom venue? It’s up to you to envision and create a night to dismember!
DailyPrompt prompt submitted by Bernard Wicks]

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