Way back before we had children, my husband and I vacationed in New Orleans' French Quarter. Somewhere thereabouts is a little gazebo. On that gazebo is a plaque that explains how Mark Twain used to sit there for days on end writing novels while someone brought him his meals.
I turned to my husband and said, "Even I could write a novel if I could sit around all day while someone brought me my meals."
Now, I can barely fathom how anyone writes novels without someone else around to care for them while they do.
Mark Twain was a very lucky man.