If you do nothing else today, go Here and read the beautiful prose of the amazing poet, Drew Myron. She describes where I grew up and recently contemplated returning to. Her words are stunning. Like balm.
Then pour a cup of coffee and sit down with your childhood memories. Remember where you were raised and how morning smelled. Think of socks. Recall the sky. Taste the tart rhubarb your mother planted along the driveway. Feel the warm air that curled around your legs on a winter morning as you stood over the floor heating grate. Remember tea with milk.
I swear it will do something for your writing.