I remember talking to someone . . . as yet unpublished, who told me they envied me the dream of writing full time. They said it was their greatest dream. I told them I envied the fact that they could sell their house and live where I lived for 10 years on the cash at hand, and write for 10 years without any worries.
“I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t leave CITY X.”
“Ah,” said I. “You love that dream then, far more than the dream of writing.”
(I also recommend Patrick Rothfuss' post that Buckell expanded upon.)