Not Good Enough

By Andrea Fuguet 

The words start to flow effortlessly out of the pen as soon as it meets the paper. He knows exactly what to write, what to say. For once, his brain and the paper have no trouble communicating with each other. He contemplates his work while he takes his finger sentence by sentence, dissecting each word to find where the mistake lies.  He thinks it’s all wrong and punches the desk sending his Mickey Mouse coffee mug into the wastebasket.

He crumples it and gets ready to introduce it to the coffee mug and the other casualties that came from him attempting to write. His work lies in his hand waiting for its fate. Is it good enough? Is he good enough?

The self doubt and his insecurities start eating at his brain and his heart. They transform into his mother’s voice telling him he can’t do it. You’re not good enough Eric. Why go into writing Eric? Why didn’t you become a truck driver like your father? At least he makes a living.

He pictures his mother picking up his work in her hands. While her eyes scrutinize each word on the paper, her heart isn’t feeling them. She frowns and wrinkles her nose as if the manuscript smells like horse droppings and puts it down. It’s decent Eric, but not good enough.

It’s decent Eric, but not good enough. Those words replay in his head like an annoying, catchy song. How many times has he sat down with a pen in his hands ready to write something poignant, meaningful? But he’s not good enough. So everything he starts to write meets a tragic end at the bottom of his trashcan.

This particular piece of work wasn’t an exception.

He wipes the sweat on his brow and checks the time. Two a.m. He better go to sleep, he needs to give his mind and his mother a rest for the night. She would haunt him tomorrow as soon as he picks up his pen.

His wife, Eva, notices him go to bed next to her and the green light emanating from the alarm clock that notifies her of how late it is. She turns to him and caresses his hair softly like a mother would her child.

“Honey, did you finish your mother’s eulogy?” she asks already knowing the answer.

“Yes. It’s decent, But not good enough,” he says closing his eyes and turning his back to her.