Good Enough
June 25, 2025 ( last updated : June 11, 2025 )
woodworking
craftsmanship
reflection
diy
I recently saw some photos of woodworking online that I really liked. The pieces looked professional, nicely finished, and exactly the kind of thing I’d love to build myself someday. I started to plan out the build in my head, and as I did, I zoomed into the joinery to see how things were built and I was a bit surprised…
The joints weren’t flush, the sanding left visible marks in places, and there were gaps where pieces should have come together seamlessly. The piece as a whole looked pretty, professional, and high-end, something I assumed would be pricey if I were to purchase it at the store, but the techinque wasn’t at the level I expected.
Now, I’m not sharing this to criticize someone’s work; quite the opposite actually. This discovery gave me a nice little confidence boost.
We Are Our Own Worst Critics
I’ve been working a gift for my brother who lives across the country: a dice tray for his D&D games made out of some leftover walnut I had. The plan was simple: practice my miter joints, make something I think he’d like and ship it across the country.
The miters… well, they’re not what I’d call my finest work. There are gaps, the angles aren’t quite the perfect 45 degrees they should be. The sides are slightly different lengths. It’s functional, sure, but I wasn’t particularly happy with it. After gluing it up and seeing the joints, my plan was to finish it, slap some felt to the bottom and send it on its way. Out of sight, out of mind. My brother would appreciate the gesture, and I’d never have to look at the gaps in those joints again.
This wasn’t a disaster by any means; it was more of a “well, that’s disappointing” situation. Not bad enough to scrap, but not good enough to display proudly either. Just… fine. Adequate. Good enough.
But then I saw those photos I mentioned. Professional-looking work with gaps and imperfect joints. And something clicked.
A Shift
When you’re deep in the details of creating something, you become intimately familiar with every compromise, every shortcut, every place where reality fell short of your vision. But those viewing the finished product? They see the whole, not the sum of imperfect parts.
The next day, I went back to my workshop and looked at that dice tray differently. Yes, the miters weren’t perfect and it’s for sure not square, but the wood is really pretty and you can only tell it’s askew if you look for it. The overall construction was solid. It would absolutely serve its purpose during game nights.
More importantly, I realized I’d been so focused on the gaps that I’d missed what I’d actually accomplished. This was a handmade gift, crafted with care, even if not with perfect precision. My brother wasn’t going to inspect the joints with a magnifying glass - he was going to roll dice in it while playing games with his friends.
So I decided to shift my approach. Instead of rushing to finish and ship it off, I took my time with the final touches. I filled in the gaps so you can’t see them as much, I was more careful with the sanding and more thoughtful with the finish. The flaws are just things I would see and not something that even matter; it’s solid, good looking and works well!
The finished dice tray - imperfect miters and all
