When I was waiting for my baby to be born, I didn’t have the attention span for much. But one thing I could do was play games that didn't require too much thinking, and Angry Birds was one of them. Despite its hype, I’d never played Angry Birds before but figured it was high time I got on the bandwagon, especially since my four year old knew more about it than I did.
And that was unacceptable.
So the premise behind Angry Birds, if you’re not familiar, is that you sling little presumably furious birds at nasty green pigs who taunt them and you try to knock out the pigs. It’s all about trajectory and it’s hideously addictive. And if your incensed little birds miss, the pigs laugh at them. For me, it was the little derisive laugh of those pigs that really spurred me to keep playing. I may or may not have been heard on more than one occasion to say, "Who's laughing now, you little green bastards?" when I won.
Somewhere around level 11 of the first section, it struck me that Angry Birds was a lot like rejection. You fling the birds at the pigs, and when you fail to knock them out or break down the structures surrounding the pigs, you are faced with a huge pile of frustration. You can either redo the level or quit the game.
And isn’t querying manuscripts in an attempt to get published really the same thing? When you’re rejected, you can either redo the level or quit the game.
So anyone who is playing Angry Birds is actually preparing to be a writer or submit something for publication or presentation. Give it a try. If you’re the type who is easily put off by rejection, maybe a few rounds of Angry Birds will help. You never know.
As for me, I’m off to redo the levels and smash those little pig bastards with my fuming feathered ammunition. Quitting the game has never been an option for me.