"I never thought I'd drown standing up."
That poor little hen had to take her chances out in the storm while I was comfortably watching it through our big front window. That's a little like what happens when you write a story. You write your book from the comfort and safety of your desk while your characters struggle through the story, bedraggled, worn, and barely alive. Circumstances progress from bad to worse until it looks like there's no way they can possibly make it out alive. Then, you, great author that you are, come to their rescue to orchestrate a perfect ending that pulls them out of a fate worse than death at the last second. When the protagonist gasps out a thank you. You look modest.
"It was nothing, but if you think that was something, just wait until the sequel."
Your protagonist pales and passes out while you boot up the computer.
The thing about storms is that after you pick up the pieces, there's no guarantee there won't be another one rolling through later.