I'm going to divulge a secret: I don't get to write very often. I know, right? Turns out a full time job, an eight-year-old, and a thousand other obligations eat into writing time. My only hope is that they also feed my work, but I think I only get to say that when I publish a full-length work of something.
On random days, I am allowed to wander out on my own and find my words out there, among the cafe tables and bar stools of Bellingham. The words sometimes take a while to sidle up, sometimes require food—they can be really demanding about their germination. Once they show up, they behave. Mostly.
I highly recommend, for sanity or security or just plain celebration to take a night off and just write. Find it, and the words will find you back. We're all just translating for ghosts anyway, right?