“Write,” the voices say. “Write,” the internet says. “Write,” my friends say.
Well, that’s all fine and well, but in order to write, one not only has to have the urge and the ability, one has to have something to write about, which is where the problems start cropping up.
I can’t think of anything of value to put down on the page. I wrack my brain, trying to think of something – anything – and come up empty. It’s getting to the point where I dread my pledge to do a writing prompt every day, because coming up with something for those is becoming its own special kind of torture.
There isn’t much that changes or occurs in my daily life; I have very little input or stimulation. I suppose that causes part of it; garbage in, garbage out as some programming wit or another once said. But I’m not exactly in a position to seek out that stimulation, either… and that’s aside from the current plague.
I’m still going to keep trying with the writing prompts, but if they dry up and nothing takes their place, you’ll know why.
Insomniac Nightmares 
But you did write today. And that counts for something. I used to have a hard time coming up with ideas too, especially during the lulls in my novel, but the more I do it, the better I get. So yeah, just write. Wishing you the best!