The simple truth is that I've been busy with the other things in my life. I believe that most writers do really understand that life is about so much more than writing. Life is what happens - and then we write if we wish to, and if we have the opportunity. Show me a person who puts writing before anything else in life, and I will show you a selfish, inconsiderate oaf who is unable to empathize or show love to the important people in their life.
So, this week, I have happily allowed all the upheaval in my house (water leak, renovation work, moving out of the bedroom and into a hotel) to get in the way of writing. I have allowed all the coming and going, all the disruption, and all the needs of my family to come first, because that is where my priorities lie. It's life, and it must be dealt with. If anyone wants to try to convince me otherwise, they are most welcome to try, but be prepared for arguments such as this: famous people frequently turn out to be driven, ruthlessly focused people who put themselves and their own desires before everything else. I have no wish to be successful if the price to be paid is to push my loved ones away in any sense.
And now, because it must be done, I shall head downstairs to paint some walls (and, no doubt, some parts of me...).