Streams of Consciousness

It's baaaaack.  I have  the urge to write.  It had been a long time, but it finally came creeping back in.  The problem is, I get a few sentences in and I can't get any farther.  Annie read the first chapter of my book about four years ago, and said that I should take literary license and add dialog.  Today I thought I found a way to do that, but when I got into it, I couldn't think of any dialog.  I know the scene I want to write, but actually putting it into words isn't working.  The other idea was something about Annie.  A character study piece, but I get half a paragraph in and it all sounds trite and fake.  I have the ideas, but nothing wants to gel.  I don't know if there's just so much in my head that needs to get out that I can't narrow it down, or if I just have vague ideas with no substance.  Annie had the right idea to get my book on track, but it's up to me to make it happen, and I'm falling short.  It's been years since I wrote the first chapter, and I thought I couldn't do more because I couldn't remember what happened during the time of the beginning of the book.  Annie's insistence that I can take literary license and skew the truth a bit will help with that part, because as it is half the book is already speculation.  Nobody but me will know the things that aren't quite the solid gold truth, and it's not like changing things just a little will change the story.  The end is what's important, the journey was long enough so that a slight shift won't be felt in the space-time continuum.  The important things will still be there, the stuff I remember.  I just have to WRITE it, and that's what's stopping me right now.  It's aggravating to have finally felt the urge and not be able to do anything with it. I wish I could do like G does, and write a whole book in my head and not put anything on the screen or paper until it's perfect.  I can't manage that, I can't remember things if I don't get them down.  He's lucky that way.