Sometimes it feels as though you have nothing new to say or do. Maybe this doesn't actually happen to you--maybe it happens to me. But there's new and invented and old and fascinating to be dredged and sifted if you are willing to rethink the basics: purpose, energy, time. You know, the small stuff.
In terms of writing, I like to think of spring as less about renewal and more about retrospect (ask me tomorrow but not today). That is, you used to be able to invent anything. Remember that? Remember making castles for ants? Remember your own brilliant Broadway show? Sometimes the best way to be creative is to be seven years old again, when you were entirely capable.
Do this: make some lists. Not cleaning lists, not to-do lists. Instead, make a list of things you love to do. Then a list of things you don't know how to do. Then a list of things you plan to do, in this perfect world. Try a list of moments you wish you'd had a snappy comeback--write the snappy comeback. Bodies you'd like to inhabit, and I don't mean celebrities (no offense to celebrities, but celebrities are boring and almost never get to eat anything good), I mean the dwarf Japanese maple on your neighbor's lawn, I mean the ant for whom you built that castle. I mean a new person, no mistakes yet in the world.
Then put your lists away, and just do this: write a story, write a chapter, write a poem, or write an essay. One of these, a whole one. You know what? You can write a whole draft at one sitting if you don't think too hard. I dare you.