Writing requires discomfort.
Good writing, writing that isn’t just forcing your brain through a sieve and taking whatever doesn’t run through and slapping it into something that looks like order so you can sell it to someone, cannot be written if you’re comfortable, if you’re complacent and happy with your current lot in life. Believe me, I’ve tried. Yes, your novel’s world seems like a nice warm thing to immerse yourself in, but so does, say, Skyrim. And when you’re comfortable you can just sit your ass down in your big plush Lovesac and play Skyrim and not have to worry about anything else.