Everybody has a crutch (or three). They probably don't even see it is a crutch, but it's there. It may be as large as "I only like to write in the mornings in front of my window about my thoughts and feelings, which I later transmogrify into narratives." Or, it could be as minute as, "I like to write when the mood strikes me."
Crutches, whether they be big or small, are wrong. They provide support, but at the cost of flexibility. An unburdened writer can writer can write anywhere. Although they may prefer to write in their studio, they can do it on the road or in the doctor's office. The same is true for what a person writes about, how a person writes, or any other qualities of writing.
Crutches have value. They allow you to be strong when you still feel weak. But, much like a literal crutch, if you let it replace your natural ability and maneuverability, you will never grow the internal strength to be able to operate without that crutch.