Suzanne Collins, author of The Underland Chronicles, has a new book on the market. The Hunger Games tells the story of Katniss Everdeen, a 16-year old girl who lives in the 12th district of Panem, the remains of what used to be known as North America. Life is difficult in District 12. Katniss spends her days hunting illegally in the forest to bring food and supplies home to her mother and younger sister, Prim. Long ago the districts rose up against the Capitol and were defeated. As a reminder to the districts that the Capitol is in control, they must now participate in a nationally televised competition called “The Hunger Games.” The tributes (contestants) are chosen by lottery – one boy and one girl between the ages of 12 and 18 from each district. The games are a fight to the death. The last contestant breathing wins. When 12-year old Prim’s name is called as a tribute, Katniss immediately volunteers to take her sister’s place.
Mix The Lottery, by Shirley Jackson, Survivor, and the Roman gladiatorial games in a bowl and season liberally with political and romantic tension. The result is a riveting read that is difficult to put down. The Hunger Games is at times harsh and violent, occasionally funny, and always intriguing. It is the first book of what promises to be a fantastic trilogy.
I have less than 20 pages to go on the first draft of my WIP, and they are excruciatingly hard to get on paper. I’ve already written the ending. I know exactly what needs to happen – the dots will connect just fine. But I find myself distracted - jotting notes for another character that is whispering a different kind of story to me. And I’ve written a synopsis for a possible second adventure for my current protagonist. I suppose it’s a good thing to have ideas springing anew, but I wish they would stay out of the way long enough to finish my current story!
When I was a kid we had big family reunions the first weekend of every July. They were held on a small farm nestled in the hills of Goddard, Kentucky. Each year when we arrived a grinning cousin or two met us at the gate. They would toss me a lemon and run. I knew what to do. I would squeeze and squeeze until my lemon was soft and didn’t have much of a shape anymore. That’s when you took your lemon to Aunt Billie and Aunt Tena. They were on the back porch with a big washtub, surrounded by 5 lb bags of sugar, making lemonade. The smell was sharp and sweet. It was hard to wait for a cool glass of fresh lemonade on those hot, sticky, July days. But when that icy cup was finally in your hand it was grand!
I’m a writer. I’ve been squeezing lemons for a while, and now it’s time to put together the lemonade. I look forward to sharing with you my reflections on books, writing, and the stuff of life. Stop by and visit again. Share your two cents. I'd love the company!
