Write poems, write songs: while you wait for the muse

I go to my writers' group and I can't think of what I should be writing for my novel. Surely it is done, I say to myself. But this death in my family is taking its toll, and it seems easier just to write a song or two. And that is what I have done the past two Fridays at my writers' group. Now I have to think up the music. I would like to do that with my electric piano, with its dust collecting as it also waits.