At one point I was staring out the window and thinking how great it would be to have my desk and computer right there so that every time I glanced up I'd see...
I knew I was kidding myself. The view would be great but it would just be one more excuse not to write. One more distraction.
That had a familiar ring to it so I rummaged through How to Write Your Novel in Nine weeks and sure enough Little Willie pointed out:
In the same way, you can write a great book without having that “cabin by the lake”—your holy of holies, your retreat, your sanctuary—in which to write it. That’s good news, isn’t it? I assume you’re not at that lake right now. Not looking out the huge picture window to gaze on a vast expanse of lake and forest and . . . . No! Wait. French doors. Looking out those french doors, which are open just a few inches so you can feel the breeze, take in the pine-scented fresh air, listen to the . . .
Blah, blah, blah. If you did own that “perfect” cabin, you’d have to worry about taxes and insurance and a leaky roof and . . . . Does that cabin have indoor plumbing? No? Then you might end up doing some suffering there on a cold, dark night when nature calls and you have to head for the outhouse.
Writing a novel (beginning, middle, and end) means overcoming a lot of distractions. Day after day.
You can do that. And get better at it, day after day.
Just keep writing.