There is something about being in a new environment that makes it difficult to work. I've got the ideas flowing, I've got the music going, and the characters all want to run out and say, "Hey, I'm here so put my life down on that paper." Yet, I can't seem to do it. At home there are too many distractions, the laundry needs to be done, the dishes need to be washed, dinner needs to be cooked, food needs to be bought. It is an ongoing war. I wish I was one of those people who could shut everything down and just write, but I'm not. I get distracted too easily.
It's kind of weird. Writing comes easy, finding the proper place to write is the hard part.
I don't know if any other writers have this problem. I'd like to think I am not the only one, but there are times when I feel like I am. Part of that is that writing is such a solitary experience. Authors write alone. They create worlds and people alone. They cry alone when someone dies, and they are afraid alone when they turn their babies out in the world. Rejection doesn't scare me. Bad reviews don't scare me. Not being able to find a place to write, that, that scares me.