Unintended foraging for personal documents may have exploded me out of the writing rut.
I'm plotting something out, which is oodles more productivity than I've been capable of late (i.e., the last 12 months or so). At one point, early in my creative life, I was tilted more towards cartooning than prosing. A random riffle of an old notebook freed characters and a concept now stuck on my nodes (sharp, jagged little extensors that they are).
The current idea birthed as doodles. Transplant from one artistic form to another usually proves catastrophic. Talking at length spooks the horse. The horse runs off. And the kicked up dust settles.
But having said that...