Hunger Games and Catching Fire.

So this week I read two of the best books I've read all year. The Hunger Games and it's sequel, Catching Fire. I am really mad at myself for not knowing that it was a continued series. I might have waited till they were all out before reading. I am impatient and now have a long wait till the third one comes out. (Anything longer than 1 day is a long wait to me! And since Catching Fire was just released I've got a lot longer than 1 day to wait. Sad!)

I'll try not to give anything to crucial away because I think everyone should read them!

Quick synopsis: They are a continuing post apocalyptic story about the children who are forced to fight to the death in a yearly game that is a reminder to their districts of their weakness and the power of the governing district who squashed their only attempt to free themselves from their oppression.

After reading these books though, I am feeling severely inadequate as a writer. I started reading hunger games at lunch and couldn't put it down after work. I read through to the end in one evening and spent the next day at lunch searching for Catching Fire at any store in my limited walking range of work, to no avail.

I was forced to drive into town after my hour long commute home and purchase it along with my own copy of Hunger Games. (I read a loaned copy from someone in my book club.) When I love a book I must own it and treasure them as gold. I also love to re-read books that really touch me as this one did.

I'm getting off track as I usually do. So my point being that this book was amazing. From the very beginning I was hooked. It was very fast paced. Nearly non-stop action with just the right amount slower yet just as compelling experiences to make you completely fall in love with the right characters. The ones you are supposed to love. (At least that is how I see it.) And because those characters that you love, love the main character. You love her too.

My point of this blog is that I don't understand why these books which I cherish now would leave me feeling that my own stories are hollow and devoid of the substance hers are so rich with. I've read really great books while writing and never felt this inadequate before. In fact they usually inspire me to want to make my stories as amazing and inspiring. These books however make me feel I'll never be at her caliber. And maybe that is true.

I'm not sure why they have had this effect. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I've been sick this week and exhausted. No energy yet can't really sleep. Everything looks better after a good night sleep. If only I could get one of those. Maybe it's just my week to doubt myself. We all have those weeks. (I'm thinking lack of sleep is the likely culprit.)

Whatever the reason it's time to put on my big girl panties and get back on the horse. I love my characters and believe in my stories. So even if I have to fake it for a few days. I'm getting my mojo back. I'm sure Suzanne Collins (the author of these fabulous books) had her days of self doubt. And thinking/knowing that helps a little. If she'd succumbed to self doubt I wouldn't have these two books that I love and that have taught me lessons about myself. (Maybe my self doubt has less to do with my writing and more to do with me as a person in general.) Hmmm. Something to think about. This is reason enough to get busy writing. Maybe someday I'll write something as amazing and inspiring. One can hope. But if I let self doubt stop me I'll never know.

Anyways I'm off to work on The Fall. :)