Being an author of books requires you to be a many-headed beast.
Don’t get me wrong — it starts with one head, one neck, one breath weapon, and at that point you are a monster singularly-tasked with doing the one thing explicit in the title: you must author a motherfucking book. That’s your first job. Your first breath weapon is ink and prose. You are a beast with that one burden:
But as with all RPGs, you are eventually going to level up.
You are going to finish the first draft of that book and you are going to be forced out of your quiet and contemplative lair where you will now be out in the greater world, stomping across the fantasy map at large, and you will suddenly find that you cannot help but see that the tasks before you necessitate the sprouting of many more heads, each with tasks to complete, each with terrifying and strange breath weapons you’ve never before seen and certainly never practiced. You’ve leveled up, but so has your quest, so have your enemies, so have all the tasks at hand.
What I’m trying to say is:
Being a writer is about more than writing.
Writing a book is about more than sitting down and writing the book.