I was sleeping, I just didn't close my eyes

The offspring is approaching that time. Yaaknow. The one where she refuses to take that beloved nap so Mommy can watch Y&R and eat chocolate and think about nothing. It wouldn't be so terrible if, at 2pm, she wasn't throwing tantrums making it feel like the longest day in history (everyday).

But there's good news.

Wait...I think.

Okay, so I forgot my point. I'm going to do something unheard of right this moment. I'm going to say random words and see what the hubs has to say because as I type, my carp tun is locking my fingers. Even Candy needs a little help sometimes. And...go.

Pretzel: rod

Forest: tree

Milkshake: yum

Labrynth: shitty movie

Cartoon: fun

Violet: roygbv

Pink Floyd: trippy

February: cold

Thanks, dear. Always so insightful. Use this as your number one writing exercise because it's so scientific. Riiiggghhhttt. Or, just click "Next Blog," where, even if a blank screen, you will learn more than here, today.

Seriously, Candyland apologies for the short notice exit. Off to find my brace. Meh.

 Tell me friends, what's the FIRST word that comes to mind when you read the words above. Don't think. Just type.

Candyland. OUT.

So, this is awkward

So...

I completely forgot today was Monday...

To be honest, Candyland was *so* busy with crap over the last few days, I forgot to write this post. #badcandy. I'll be back in full force tomorrow, I swearz. Until then, savor this image of Candyland in stretchy pants preparing for Thursday's feast. That's right. When I said I was going to wear them, I was serious. What of it?

Since I started revising, I've lost track of days and time. I finally figured out what the eff to do with those treasured agent notes and beta comments, so for now, my brain is kind of mushy. In fact, yesterday I sat at the kitchen table for five hours. When I finally emerged the house was a mess. Apparently it had been that way all day, but I didn't notice. Oh and it caught fire and burned to the ground, but I was busy and my work station was left in tact. It's also possible my daughter grew up and started college, but at least I got the 3rd round of revisions done...

Favorite part of the holiday: Giving myself permission to gorge without guilt
Worst part of the holiday: Knowing the next day my stretchy pants would be tight

If you want something as sweet as Candy to read, I was featured in an article, written by the adorable Lindsey Sablowski, for Teen Inskst Magazine. You can read it HERE.

Until tomorrow friends, PLEASE tell me: What was the best part of your holiday? The worst?
Candylandlovesstretchypants. OUT.

I Iz Thankful For Thingz

So...today is national "Prepare for Stuffing your Face" day and Candyland has to find her stretch pants. Oh, and get some writing and work done. Meh.

Things Candyland is thankful for:
-Hubs,offspring, fam, friends, bloggers, writers, New Medicine, Bert
-Coffee, grilled cheese, toast, cookies and cream ice cream, cheese
-Stretch pants, rock tees, the morning paper, Lappy, my phone
-Getting good mail, laughing so hard I trickle, hearing from old friends, guiding someone new to New Meds
-Hugs from the offspring, hugs from the hubs, hugs from Matt Brady, hugs from everyone
-Love, laughter, happiness, determination, the will to fight
-Sleeping in (when?), finishing revisions(soon), making monies for J2W (now, please)

Until next time, friends, WHAT IZ U THANKFUL FOR?
LOLCandy. OUT.
P.S. Help make this the best Thanksgiving EVER for a family in Ghana. Click HERE. For everyone who blogs, Tweets, FBooks, ANTYHING'S re: J2W Part Two from now until Monday, you will be entered into a separate-super-special giveaway (and that feel good feeling of being awesome). Just let me know via email or in the comments.

Aaannnnnnddddddd Candyland has had enough of it (that's right)

So, my carptun has me by the BLEEP, and the offspring is sick, so today, I let the hubs take over. My comments are in red...because candy canes are half red...I guess.

The hubs is writing this post under the pressure of a gun to the head from Candyland. Seriously...if you could see the look on her face...its like a gun.  Really.  Apparently Candyland doesn't heed to the word can't because when I said that I can't just write a blog post she seemed to think that was bull-poo and continued the gun-like stare in my direction.
Continuing gun stare...you can't do anything about it.

So the hubs did what he always does when Candyland passes down a command...took to browsing the internet.  I mean, I like to guest-post and all, but the hubs requires some pre-planning.  I like to have something to blog about...I guess.  And then, like a bullet from the gods, it hit me. Snowboarding.
And here we go...*eye roll*

It's my favorite thing to do in the history of things no comment (insert innuendo HERE). You see, the hubs has been at a snowboarding retirement party since the little bun hit the oven. But now, the offspring has her own snowboard and IT IS ON!!!Do people still say that phrase or just the ones who also say BRING IT?  The hubs lives snowboarding.  I talk about it.  I dream about it.  I think about it.  I wish for it.  Aaannnnnnddddddd Candyland has had enough of it.
You can say that again.

Aaannnnnnddddddd Candyland has had enough of it.
Gee, thanks.

It posses me like a demon. The worst part of it is, here in Ohio, we wont be able to snowboard until Christmas if we're lucky.  Soooooo, all I can do is talk about snow, where its snowing, how much snow its snowing somewhere else, what snowboard gear I want for Christmas, what la nina means for snow forecasts, what the offspring needs to complete her snowboard get-up, and about snowboard camp.  Yes, I said snowboard camp.
Cheese and rice stop saying the word SNOW.

I like to text Candyland things like, Timberline got 50" in 72 hours.  Meadows is opening Saturday.  She responds with something fun like, we don't live there so it doesn't matter.  True my dear, but our Oregon trip is hopefully around the corner.  And our potential move is hopefully in the works.  God's country awaits and a real snowboard season is waiting.  Along with powder days and bluebird skies.  Bring on the snow.
Please, snow, so I don't have to hear about it as much...

Till next time, the hubs is out.
Candyland, too.
P.S. You can now order J2W tees from the simplified form HERE. Contest has been extended to Dec. 23rd so I can raise more for the families in Ghana. MOREMOREMORE. For Thanksgiving this year, help me, help them. Click HERE.

The middle is a lonely road, unless you're not alone

"Sharpen up your teeth your dreams are more than worth defending, in a fight that's never ending, go on...go ahead and prove me wrong."-The Used <---yes...

There's this place, called the middle, some of us know. It's the place where you're not new but not yet seasoned. Not a beginner not yet published. Not absent of hope but not full of it either (full of something, maybe). The middle is for the strong, the non-quitters, the warriors. The middle is for the hard-workers, the dedicated, the determined.

The middle is between two paths, two places you could be.
The middle is one step from the beginning and five from the end.
The middle is when you say I can do this, every hour of every day.
The middle is when your dreams are within reach but you've got to find your way through the maze.

If you're in the middle, breathe.
If you're in the middle, remember, you're not alone.
If you're in the middle, don't look back, only forward.
If you're in the middle, BELIEVE in yourself.

This is my middle:

But the end is in sight.

Tell me friends, are you in the beginning, middle or end of your personal journey?
Candyland. OUT.

Feel Me Up Friday: I eat hair and junk

Upon calculating yesterday's Waldo comments, it seems the consensus was almost torn completely down the middle. The hubs, i'm sure, will bask in this for many days.

I'm not feeling, you know, IT, today. So let's just get to it, shall we?

Random Fact: I went to the store with good intentions. Intentions count for something, don't they? I wanted to get some fruit and junk, but when I got home and put the food away, it seems the fruit stayed behind and all I had was junk #badcandy

Random Fact: When the offspring and I ate dinner, I noticed a string of hair connected to the bite I was chewing. But I kept chewing until the hair was mixed with food. And swallowed. I ate my hair. #weirdcandy

Oh, crap. I'm stuffed. Oh wait. This wasn't suppose to be about food? Well then...

Candyland has a bit of a headache (leftovers from last night's migraine doozy), so you tell me: What did you have for dinner last night? Was hair involved?
Candyland. OUT.

In which my four-year-old watches Waldo get freaky

My hands are still not in the best shape but I've had a stern talking to with them and decided their punishment will be one of those brace thingys. Yesyes. Other than that, a thank you to the recent donations to J2W.  You all are superawesomewonderful.

But I digress. because I have something WAY more important to discuss. I'm in complete opposition of the banning of any book, censorship or a person's right to free speech. HOWEVER, after buying the offspring one Where's Waldo book, we sprung for another because she whizzed through that thing in like a day.

Now, friends, is it just me or has Waldo gotten a bit...freakydeaky in the years since I last saw him? Why the hell is he in this place and what the eff are these kind of people into?

The hubs thinks I'm overreacting and that this is a completely normal thing to see in a FOUR-YEAR-OLD'S BOOK. It reminded me of something I saw on Anne's blog.
So, tell me friends, Team Hubs or Team CL here?


CandylandthinksWaldohaslostit.OUT.

Your hand. My hand. Everyone has a hand.

Dudes, before I even start rambling, you may have noticed my web store has disappeared. Apparently my buttons weren't working and after an hour and a half of deleting, re-creating and deleting again, I finally gave in to my sleepy eyes and temporarily took it down. I will have it back up ASAP but if you CAN'T WAIT to order, shoot me an email and I can forward pics of the shirts and we can do it that way. Oooh yeah.

Also, I Heart Joy Like BR80 Part 2 will be extended. If I can't sell shirts, I can't meet my goal. If I can't meet my goal, I can't help people. If I can't help people I can't eat chocolate to celebrate. If I can't eat chocolate to celebrate, I will be sad.

Moving on.

Life is, well, life. Sometimes it goes your way, and sometimes, it doesn't come close. I'm not saying where Candyland fits in this equation, I'm just saying, we all need a little help sometimes. And I think how you deal with the prospect of helping someone can either make or break the kind of person you are.

Okay, so I will say where Candyland fits in this.

In the last two-three weeks, I've been on most sides of this. I've helped people (and felt good about it), people have helped me (and it appeared as though they felt good about it, which makes me feel doubly good), and people have helped me (and seemed to hate me for it which makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry).

I think it never hurts to ask for something you want/need as long as the possibility of getting a no is acceptable. However, it's those in the latter group that confuse me. Helping and giving should be from your heart. If it doesn't come from a pure place, or you're make to feel bad or hurt or sorry you asked for the lift, maybe it's better not to receive the help at all.

Life is always giving birth to irony babies.

No, this is not even about writing or the blog or the fundraiser or anything online. It's about life. If you need help, and I'm able, I will do so with a light heart and compassion and understanding. I will do your charity walk. I will help you meet your goal. I will donate bone marrow. I will give my blood, plasma. I will lend you my last $1. I will be the best person I can be, with a smile. I hope you will be too. You never know when you might need it reciprocated....

Tell me, have you needed help with anything lately? Have you done anything to help someone lately?
Candyland. OUT.

Fours easy steps to WTFness

I still have >carptun< and it >still< blows. Unfortunately, I have to save my fingers as much as possible for things as important as:
A) Work. Did you see my OFFICIAL officialness on Physorg yet? It's pretty, what's the word...official.
B) Revisions. Yeah.
C) Possible scratching. If an itch arises, I need to be able to get to it.
D) To pet Mamie like Dr. Evil. She's not happy unless I'm happy. And evil.

So, I called in for backup (aka the hubs). And of course, he's full of ideas (full of something). With that, I give you, four steps to creating a pretend hand-air balloon. Yeah, it's as completely stupid awesome as it sounds.

Yeah...
So...
You won't get that minute of your life back. I apologize and completely blame the carptun.
So tell me,  what would you reserve your hands for (KEEP IT CLEAN PEOPLE)
Candylandhascarptun. OUT.


P.S. MY CONTEST HAS BEEN EXTENDED. CHECK IT OUT. (now. please.)

In whch carpl tnl wrts ths post

Gd day frnds. I so wnted to wrte a post with heart and thgt, but my hnds had somthg else in mnd. Thy r tired of nvr gttng any credit. For now, wtch ths video of FILand laugh yr ass off.

Untl tmrw frnds, tell me, do u evr gt crpl tnl? How do u deal?
Cndylnd. Ot.

Feel Me Up: I sneeze noodles. And them eat them again. So what.

Truth time (when is it not): I've been overwhelmed with you peeps. Like, you remind me every single day why I continue to do what I do. I can't tell you how much I love all 369 of you, because it's a ridiculous amount that transcends normal limits.

Anyway, today will be short because I've promised myself I'd accomplish some very specific revisions starting today, and when I tell myself to do something, I usually listen. But when I don't, no one punishes me. The best of both worlds. I'm thinking of pretty much killing myself to make it over to the Baker's Dozen next Thursday, but that would be insane with all the work I have to do...*laughs awkwardly because I will probably still enter*

I don't care if you washed your hands today or not. You love me the way I am, and today, I will love you even with virtual germs. As long as you promise to wash next week...

Random Fact: So yesterday there may have been an incident where Candyland might have been eating noodles and possibly sneezed a few out. She may have picked up the sneezles (sneeze noodles) and put them back in her mouth. I'm not proud.

Random Fact: When clipping coupons (sexy, right?), I suddenly decided I'm going to start buying all of my clothes from these ads:

Convenient, they come in various colors and WHOA what a value. So from now on, you should picture this Candyland profile pic, instead of the old one:

That was weird and gross and I think I liked it! I'm discovering some strange things about myself. Maybe next week it'll feel like we both know what we're doing again. Practice makes...I forgot what I was saying...


Have you ever ordered anything from the coupon ads, friends? How about eaten something that you've spit/sneezed/coughed up? Be honest. Candy knows when you're lying...


Candyland. OUT.
P.S. A belated HAPPY VETEREN'S DAY to my (not so little) little bro who is currently in Afghanistan...xoxo

You'll always be my thunder

"Today is a winding road that's taking me places that I didn't want to go..."-Boys Like Girls


Yesterday, I wondered if I'd made a mistake in posting something *that* honest. To brave my biggest insecurities, not as a writer, but as a person. To say, PLEASE LOVE ME and wait to see what your reaction might be. To breathe a sigh of relief with every ping from my inbox and think oh...so being myself really is good enough then...

Yes, I'm dramatic. And insecure. And weird. And crazy. And emotional. And scared about what the future may or may not hold. And even though I lost a follower yesterday (COME BACK!) and talk too much about New Medicine and complain about my mochas and don't always make it to your blogs (I WANT TO THOUGH!)...

You're still here.

And for that, you'll always be my thunder. For realz. You remind me dreams come true. And when I feel like I have no one to turn to, you're there. And I can say whatever I want and you'll still love me. And the biggest most IMPORTANT thing ever is: We're all in this together.

I love you like WHOA.

What/who is your thunder today, friends?
Candylandlovesloveslovesyou. OUT.

Satisfaction: Do I give it to you?

I've been reading a lot of posts lately about bloggers/writers who are afraid of not living up to reader's expectations and it got me thinking: Do I satisfy you?

Let me be clear: I do me. If what I say and how I say it doesn't tickle your virtual fancy, I apologize for not pleasing you, though, I can't apologize for being myself. If you're around long enough, you'll quickly see who's authentic and who's full of shizz. I am, who I am, on here (give or take the volume of my voice; it's been said I'm quieter than a mouse), and I'm for real. For realz, yo.

I see through fake people (don't confuse with fart people). I don't dig liars, cheats or rude people or people who mess up my cafe mochas (seriously). But overall, I love people and believe there's good in everyone. In the blog world, it's tough to "sell" yourself and stand out without being fake or strange or insert something else because I forgot my point.

The sweetamazingsuperduperawesome(keep inserting, because she's worth it)  Elana, had a post not too far back, wondering if she left all 1,000+ of her readers satisfied or if she was letting them down. It kinda-sorta-broke my heart because she's an inspiration to me and I really understand that feeling. The days I have few comments or don't get too many hits, I run for the ice cream and wonder what I did wrong.

Being a writer, I think we all have a sense of insecurity and maybe need reassurance in the comment box. Or in our numbers. Or in our emails. Or followers. Or whatever. Even though I am me, 100%, part of that is wanting to please you, friends.

And maybe part of this feeling is caused by the revisions I've finally starting to dig through (thank you, my beautiful friends: Dianne, Elana, and Funcie Friend Gretchen), which makes me all sorts of raw and emotional.

Anywho. New friends, welcome. Old friends, thank you for loving allllllll of this (even the crazy).

So you tell me, are you satisfied or should we go to couple's (blogger's) therapy?
Candylandlovesyou. OUT.

In which Shaun White ups his game because of a four-year-old

Watch out, Flying Tomato...(if you're ducking for cover, you don't have enough Shaun White in your life), the Arguing Princess is gonna knock you out of the way...

That's right, peeps. My sweet (sometimes), darling (when she wants to be), precious (okay, that's enough of that) offspring is ready to follow in her father's snow boots. This winter, this little four-year-old ball of baby feist will be ripping it up.

The day we went to the snowboard shop, she instantly (I KID YOU NOT) figured out how to starp herself in and did ollies like an old pro. Don't know what the eff I'm referring to? Me either, but this is what the hubs said. I think. Anyway, it reminded me of writing. Let my child inspire you to try new things. Step outside of what you know too well and you'll see...you  might just conquer it.

Tell me, have you tried anything new lately?
Candyland. OUT.

Growing up is hard to do without medicine

When I was little and got in trouble for something I didn't do (never) (okay, not never), I wanted to transport to somewhere I could do no wrong and everyone loved my super rad Rainbow Bright shirt. Wishing never quite got me there, though (not the sharpest bulb at that age), I kept hoping the next time it would work and I'd open my eyes and see Steven Tyler serenading me (yeah I liked older men) (not in a creepy way) (the music, dirty minds...).

Through the years, I've wanted to be many places I couldn't, but part of growing up is making choices. And sometimes those choices really effing suck (this is not a complaint post, I swearz). Take this weekend for example. I had plans to get my Medicine. Sure the drive was 5 hours one way and sure it was going to be a nightmare driving back right after the show for Monday morning work, but it was going to be sooooo worth it.

They are my oxygen when I can't breathe. But life had other plans, and I had to make a choice.

*Insert dramatic pause for a moment of hope*

Even though it was tough (tougher than you realize), I made what I consider the "grown-up" choice (I think) and stayed home while sending my peeps off with promo materials, rockin' New Meds Army tees and just the memory of me. If this all sounds stupid to you, go back and re-read the life these four have pumped back into me, because it's something I can't completely put into words, yet defines me so clearly.

Maybe it was a great show, without me. Maybe none of it matters in the grand scheme of things. But I know this guy noticed I wasn't there (maybe he didn't but I'll pretend he did):

Okay, so you can't see it too well, but my girl, Heather, sent it, knowing how bummed out I was. It's Brady, sad I wasn't there...*sigh*

Tell me friends, have you missed something you really wanted to go to lately?
CandylandmissingNewMeds. OUT.

Feel Me Up Friday: If my underwear is sticking to my clothes, it's because I'm foreign

Another week has passed and time has....YAWN.

Sorry. Thought we were back in Mrs. Whatshername's tenth grade English class. You know, the one where Candyland spent 90 minutes scribbling desperate pleas for Zach Goff's affection onto a flimsy piece of paper? Oh, you mean you actually paid attention in class? Hrm... *Note to self: Rewind time and experience this thing called English class everyone else is privy to*


At least I have an excuse when I 'ain't got no' explanation for my horribly-written stories. The adverbs made me do it. I swearz. Now go waRsh up. Them hands ain't lookin' too clean. They better smell like mangos. Because it's a mango-kind-of-week.

Random Fact: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction (I may be lacking in hablo English, but there's a reason I work for a physicist) (Okay, there's no reason) (Because I have no idea what he's talking about half the time) (And I'm not exactly sure what nanotechnology is) (I digress). For every load of laundry I do, another load magically appears. And for every piece of underwear I take off, there will inevitably be another one stuck to the OUTSIDE of my clean clothes.

Random Fact: English is my second language. If you meet me in person, you'll notice an accent and strange words. You may wonder where it stems from. I'm from the nation Tired and speak the native language of Mommy. And no, it's not as exotic as it sounds.

That was sweeeeeeeettttt, friends! But you know what's even sweeter? Yesterday's AMAZING response to my cry for help. Thank you all for giving a crap about my crap. It means more than you all know.

Until Monday friends, do you speak any other languages? And did you take your medicine today? I'll be taking mine SUNDAY...
Candylandgoingtogetmedicine. OUT.
P.S. Enter this contest! And this one too! $$$ + $$$ = :)

It's called "community" for a reason: Holla atcha gurl

I'm a writer. You may not know that considering how many posts contain miscellaneous information about Matt Brady's favorite food or what hilarious ornery thing the offspring did this time. But I am, in fact, a writer. My YA novel, 9:59 Rewind has been through the gamut. It won some cool contests (see sidebar), died and is about to undergo a MAJOR facelift.

But I rarely talk about it. Maybe because I'm insecure. Maybe because it's been stalled for months and I'm having a hard time getting past the block. Maybe because I really don't have what it takes. I don't know. I do know, I've come pretty damn close-TOO CLOSE-to quit now.

A few months back, after a year-and-a-half of writing, re-writing and querying, Candyland had THE CALL. Yaaaknoooww---> THE CALL. It was wondiferous and made me feel like IT could actually happen. But then some things happened and life and blah blah blah. But recently, I received very long, detailed revision letter. Essentially, it said, if I can pull the facelift off, well...you know. And if I can't, well, you know that too.

Fast forward to now.

The wonderful and talented author of We Hear the Dead, Dianne Salerni has been my savior. She not only offered to read Rewind + agent notes to give her thoughts, but did it in a weekend. Her advice has been invaluable and definitely got me thinking.

But it's not enough. My creativity is STALLED, despite her input. And at THE WORST TIME. I feel like the answers are right in front of me, but nothing's clicking.

So a call for help: If there's anyone who's done revisions that landed them an agent and/or sold a book (and know what the revision process is like), and you have some perspective or advice, HOLLA ATCHA GURL.

Email me at candace ganger at yahoo dot com.

I need to find my way back to this story. With Dianne's help, I've dipped my toes in the water. Now I need someone to push me the hell in before the fear keeps me at bay, forever.

Tell me friends, what do you do when you're SSSTTUUUCCCKKKK?!
Candyland PullingHairOut. OUT.

If I could straighten out my balls...

Some of you work. Some of you work in an office. Some of you work in a mine. Some of you go to clown college. Some of you work at home. For those of you who work in a mine, this is not for you. For those of you who go to clown college, go scare someone who is not me. Yaaathanksss..

Recently I was blessed with not one, but TWO work-from-home jobs. To say I'm grateful is an understatement. However, it's come to my attention that, much like being a writer, the mere idea of having a career from home sounds like such a luxurious experience. Sleeping in all hours, attending meetings in your pajamas, and using all your free time to work on that masterpiece ms. Sounds like a dream.

Because it is.

My day starts at 6:30 with a cup of coffee and a pep-talk. When 7am rolls around, the offspring is wide-eyed and ready to rumble but I've only just begun working my first hour of job number 1. Throw in job #2, my clown college courses, plus yaaaknoww, being a stay-at-home mother plus LIFE and it's everything but luxurious. Sure, I don't really go to clown college, I get to work in my jammy-jams, and yeah I get to be home with my baby, but when I'm working, I'm WORKING. No play time. No Yo Gabba Gabba.

If there were twelve of me, there still would not be enough hands (or clown noses). There would be for hokey pokey, though. *Note to self: play hokey pokey* Essentially, Candyland is having a schedule shifting conflict and may or may not be lucid during these posts. Like right now. I'm really thinking about what kind of candy we have in the cupboard instead of  the words I'm typing. Or the fact that my hand is so dry, it squeaks when I move my fingers. Gross.

Tell me friends, do you work in (being a SAHM counts!)or outside the home (this is for you, miners...) and how do you manage your time so you don't fail clown college?
Candyland+Balls. OUT.

When Candyland isn't looking...

Hello friends...

My name is LilliFACE and I took this picture all by myself when Mommy and Daddy weren't looking. I know how to work Daddy's iPhone better than him. What an amateur.

Then, I used Google Maps to estimate the distance between home, Grammie's house, and McDonald's, called some people long distance (because it's cheaper on someone else's dime) and bought some new apps like the one where I dress up pumpkins and crap.

After that, I took 800 more random pictures of me in the same exact position and recorded 47 videos of doughnuts going into my mouth. Nomomnom.

Now, I'm gonna text Mommy to bring me more chips.

Until tomorrow, Mommy's friends, do your kids/pets/ms characters (because they're obvs in the same category...) do things you find out about after the fact?
Lilliland. OUT.
*Upon finding this, the hubs's iPhone was confiscated and Lilliana is now planning her revenge.

When surprise doesn't suck

Not all of us love surprises. In fact, some of us loathe them. I happen to love them, as long as they're good.
But you'll never win me over with any of the following:

"I'm not really a woman. Surprise!"
"That's not rice you're eating. It's maggots. Surprise!"
"Surprise! I don't really love you!"
"I was going to take you on an exotic vacation for a week but instead decided to let you get caught up on housework instead. Surprise!"
"He's not your real father. Surprise!"
"I don't love your manuscript but the good news is, I love you! Surprise!"
"I'm leaving you for another woman. A much younger, prettier-HEALTHIER-woman. But you can have the house. Surprise!"

Just so you know, if you come near me with one of those, your "surprise" may turn into an ear punch. But then there are those times a surprise is so good, the mere shock of it lasts for days, weeks even, in a totally amazing kind of way. Be it in  your story or in life, surprises can be a very good thing.

Take the offspring's dance teacher, Miss Maria, for example. Wednesday was an ordinary class for her. Just the usual three and four-year-olds rolling around on the floor instead of actually listening to her. It was Parent Watch Night and you could see the relief on her face when the (longest) half-hour (ever) was (finally) over.

And then behind her, out of nowhere, comes in a man. He walked with his hands behind his back and a slight quiver to his lip. He tip-toed up behind her, and then did this:

With some nervous ramblings in front of a room full of romantics, he did the MOST romantic thing a man in love can do. And she was completely surprised. So surprised, she was speechless. But of course, she said yes.

After that night, I realized there are some problems with my beloved ms, including some places where the element of surprise is lacking. I want readers to have that feeling of OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU GOT ME, just like Maria...

What about you, friends? Do you like surprises? 
Candyland. OUT.