The truth is not easy, whatever the medium. The cursor blinks and waits. You sip your tea and wait. Your hands dance over the keys wildly for a moment, then hesitate. You read the words and press the delete key. And then there is only emptiness again, and waiting again. For some spark, some light, some flash of truth to flow through your mind and pour out of your fingers.
Some days, it happens. Truth pours out, veiled in colors, in stories, in poems, in light, in shadow, in notes, in rhythms, in sounds, in movement.
Some days, there is only waiting, and the blinking cursor, the blank canvas, the silence, the stillness.
The waiting is not easy, nor is the doing, nor is knowing when to do which.
narinda heng 
floating in the same boat, somewhat. this is what my first blog entry from yesterday is about too :)
I second. I wish we had a creativity storage device so that when there’s a surplus we could fill it and when there’s a deficit we could tap it. Stupid muse.
If I saw a book with this title, I would totally check it out. Cool concept you got going. I’m kind of sorry I didn’t take a look at your blog sooner this session.