Why?

I'm working on the script for an episode of my show that starts prepping the week after next; in fact, the (brilliant) elves in the art department are already sketching costumes and sets. The outline is in place and the script is flowing easily enough -- I take a moment to meditate on what the heartbeat of the scene in hand is going to be and then I start typing it out. In the current episode, for complicated plot reasons, about a quarter of the dialogue has to be in rhyming dactylic tetrameter (which may possibly be a world's first for an episode of a television show.) And even that isn't hard -- you push around a few ideas for the next block of poetry and it clicks into place. Or has so far. So why does a paragraph of my novel take me agonizing hours to chisel out of the granite of nil, and why does that feel right to me? Why have I spent two weeks trying to make one simple decision: do I switch POV from one character to the next for Part II, or do I stay in one character's head for the whole book? Why does the book feel so much more important to me than the TV? Why is it that I read some blogs and find myself aching to be teaching writing at a college for a living with a few published novels under my belt instead of writing TV for a living with a bunch of produced television under my belt? Would I really prefer that? I know that I like having lots of money. I like being able to travel to places like the one in the picture. I like it a little too much. It's the marble plinth my ego stands on. I know that one episode of my show is seen by many many times more people than will ever read my book, even on the very very very long shot that it is brilliantly reviewed and considered a success. I know that people -- not a mega-hit number of people, but an enough-to-get-ordered-for-a-second-season number of people -- take enough pleasure in my show to talk about it on line, and argue about it, and look forward to the next episode.

So why do I give that so little value?