Like you, I’ve read the myriad of stereotypical stories about writers sitting at street side cafes with the sun slowly setting on the horizon and a piping hot cup of French press on the table, and just writing away until their little hearts are content. I’ve read about writers who jam out to carefully-curated set lists while writing, and about those lucky souls who can douse the inevitable frustrations of a writing session with a few quick belts of Scotch or a glass of wine.

While I’m sure all o...