Writer's... Block?

This is me, forcing myself to write.
It's been a long time, and it's starting to make me ill.

My senior year of high school, as great as it was, still had it's... Lameness. I've always prized myself on my writing, and near the beginning of the year I wrote a lot. I even became the Prose Editor of my school's literary magazine. (Who could ask for more, right? Allow me my bit of selfishness.) I think I just sort of expected to be in the magazine. I believed myself a good writer, so I thought that something I wrote would get it.

I entered five stories. Five. And I got nothing out of that.

So I've been really self conscious ever since. Maybe I just didn't push it enough? No one in my group ever gave me a real answer as to what they thought of the stories. I know that my teacher liked them, she'd read them and was later shocked upon realizing that I wasn't in the magazine.

It sort of just makes me wonder. All those things I wrote that my friends and teachers praised, were they really any good? I know that my Ad. Lit teacher mentioned that all of my teachers talked about what a great writer I am, but... Well, I don't know.

So here I am. Forcing the words. Forcing them. I haven't had to do this in a long time. They used to flow. Now they are reluctant and my stomach churns with each word I let out. Like I'm afraid. Afraid of something I really enjoy doing.

Expect a forced story soon. Probably something short and terribly lame for nothing else than to just get my mind functioning once more. If I expect to try writing as a career choice, then I seriously need to get my marbles back.

So, until then. This is Alyce signing out... or... something.

Alyce