The stigma facing the DMV has turned it into a dreaded hell-hole. Or at least in my mind. But by the time I left, I wasn't counting the hours spent there. Instead, it was how many excited new drivers I had seen.
I haven't sat down to read a physical book in years. So is it surprising I can't sit down and write one? My mind occasionally stays on the current project, but often winds up somewhere else. Perhaps it's time for Flash Fiction?