I was driving around one morning, doing the usual errands and thinking about how these hours would be better spent writing. Then, I start questioning if my time really is better spent writing. Maybe writing is just a waste of time. Maybe doing errands is a much better use of time, after all it has a measurable result. Then I drive past a street that has the same name as a motel in my novel and I realise I’m heading in the right direction after all.
Image: Time to die by Ivan Collado Garrido