Psyche! This post is totally not about the Hunger Games, even though the book (and yes even the movie) is all about DEATH. Instead, I'm going to try my darndest to kind of incorporate the Hunger Games into a long drawn out metaphor about what it's like to be a writer.
If you're a writer, you're used to sitting alone at your computer sharpening the weapons in your writer's toolbox. Sometimes, you think you're getting pretty good at this writing thing. At least that's what your Mom tells you, but she doesn't count. You're hungry to see if your skills are really that stellar, so you venture out into the world to shoot a squirrel.
Squirrel?
Wait a second. I take that back. You don't kill a squirrel because that would be senseless and cruel, unless you plan on eating it and I don't know, squirrel meat just sounds kind of yucky. Instead, you take your coffee stained, wrinkled pages to your trusty writer's group or you send your manuscript to a trusted friend to see what they think about your supposedly mad writing skills.
There is a long pause. Sometimes it starts out with a vague "that was interesting" comment and then you hear the dreaded words that no writer ever wants to hear, "Primrose Everdeen!" I mean, "BUT." And there's always a but. Why? Because writing is subjective. Some people think the Twilight books are the cat's pajamas and I think they're...well, um, uniquely different, but that's another story.
Okay, so let's say there's is a reaping and you volunteer your story because your younger sister's story is kind of weak. And you meet Lenny Kravitz, I mean this cool person that you really like and she gives you a writer's hat and convinces you that you're going to nail this one and be victorious in this game. So you submit.
After hitting send, you run off into the forest to get as far away from the other writers as you can and you wait. And wait. And wait some more. And just when you're about to give up, a balloon drops from the sky and says, "Congratulations. We have whittled down all the entries to the top forty and yours is one of them. We'll let you know soon. Thanks for your patience."
So for the first time in a long time you've got hope and hope is good. But then you realize you're going to have to kill Peeta to be the victor in this game of publication. And who wants to kill Peeta?
I certainly don't want to kill Peeta.
But it's all for naught because you get rejected from this book, so you contemplate eating some poison berries for like a second and then you realize you don't have to do anything that rash because you and Peeta can both win.
So what's the moral of this story? There are several. You can't win if you don't play the game. Don't kill the people who help you along the way. In fact, prop them up and support them in any way you can. And whatever you do, don't give up. This writing game is a bitch, but lucky for us, there can be more than one victor. Even luckier, it's not televised.