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I don't know what it is with Finnick and bread, but he seems obsessed with handling it.
Suzanne Collins
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Suzanne Collins
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: August 10
Executive Producer
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Hartford
Connecticut
Suzanne Marie Collins
Suzanne Collins
Obsessed
Bread
Seems
Handling
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That if desperate times call for desperate measures, then I'm free to act as desperately as I wish.
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I curl up, make myself smaller, try to disappear entirely. Wrapped in silence, I slide my bracelet that reads 'mentally disoriented' around and around my wrist.
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Frankly, I could use a little sugarcoating.
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My sleep wasn't peaceful, though. I have the sense of emerging from a world of dark, haunted places where I traveled alone.
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The more you can distract yourself, the better.
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I thought he wanted it, anyway, I say. Not like this, Haymitch says. He wanted it to be real.
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Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don't want to miss any of them.
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Suddenly I am furious, that with my life on the line, they don’t even have the decency to pay attention to me. That I’m being upstaged by a dead pig.
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So Haymitch, what do you think of the games have one hundred percent more competitors than usual?” asks Caesar. Haymitch shrugs. “I don’t see that it makes that much difference. They’ll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same.
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In our world, I rank music somewhere between hair ribbons and rainbows in terms of usefulness.
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It crosses my mind that Cinna's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.
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I take a few breaths to calm myself, step back, and lift Buttercup by the scruff of the neck. I should've drowned you when I had the chance. His ears flatten and he raises a paw. I hiss before he gets a chance, which seems to annoy him a little, since he considers hissing his own personal sound of contempt.
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District 12: Where you can starve to death in safety.
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The anguish I always feel when she's in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face.
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All the writing elements are the same. You need to tell a good story... You've got good characters... People think there's some dramatic difference between writing 'Little Bear' and the 'Hunger Games,' and as a writer, for me, there isn't.
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I take Peeta's face in my hands. Don't worry. I'll see you at midnight.
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It's as if I'm Finnick, watching images of my life flash by. The mast of a boat, a silver parachute, Mags laughing, a pink sky, Beetee's trident, Annie in her wedding dress, waves breaking over rocks. Then its over.
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But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down.
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Whenever I write a story, I hope it appeals to both boys and girls.
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