1. It keeps you the fuck inside. Have you looked out there? I’m no stranger to winter—I was raised in Labrador, which is French for “holy shit this place is cold why couldn’t we have gone to Haiti instead?”*—but even I know that this cold is really fucking uncomfortable. Keep it outside. And therefore keep yourself inside, away from the roving bands of ice weasels.
2. You can do it without power. I already hear you moaning: but my computer doesn’t work when the Great Darkness descends. And my laptop battery only lasts for five hours and I need most of that for looking at pictures of otters in hats! Suck it up, princess. Thousands of writers did it before you. And, you never know: breaking out the pen and paper might be good for you. I wrote a novel draft longhand and it kicked the crap out of a creative block I had.
3. You can do it while swathed in blankets. I, for one, am seriously considering building a blanket fort.
4. You can do it while drunk. In fact, some authors positively demand that it is done so. You can’t fucking drive anywhere anyway.
5. You can do it while in bed, swathed in blankets and drunk. If there’s someone else in there with you, all the better. Though you might find something better to do than write.
6. It can distract you from the bone-numbing cold. You know what’s a great thing to write in the winter? Desert scenes. All that hard-pan earth, baking under the sun. Give it some sand worms if you must, because those character bastards shouldn’t get off easy, but why not escape to your own private island in the middle of yet another Ice Demon Invasion?
7. It’s a more impressive excuse for not wanting to leave the house. “Sorry, I’m in the middle of this police robot marmoset war, I can’t stop now or Sergeant Fuzzygears will die” is a way better excuse than “Sorry, I’m not a fucking yeti”.
*It’s a beautiful language.