Better Late Than Never


My driving licence arrived today. It arrived in the post like a salmon-coloured invitation to a party that is any place I want it to be.

So I’m working. I’ve been working for a few weeks now. Working and saving. I need to get enough money to buy myself a vehicle I can call home. Then my littlest hobo schtick will be complete.


But I’m not writing.

Which is odd because I finally mustered up the courage to call myself a writer. Then I stopped.

The more I work, the less I write.

The less I work – of late at least – the less I write.

The older I get, the less I write.

I don’t really know what’s going on but I’m hoping it’s just a phase. Because if I don’t have writing, I don’t have anything.

I guess I need to pull my finger out and decide what it is I really want. But maybe deciding things is not my thing.

Maybe I need a near-death experience to teach me the value of time.

Or maybe I just need to do more.

And get one of these…


But first, work.


About the Author

I am Karl Webster. I wrote these words. If you liked them, you’ll be overjoyed to know that there are plenty more where they came from. So you should definitely sign up to my newsletter if you haven’t already.

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