Thursday, June 30, 2011

If I were here, I'd tell you to love your balls

Yes, this is late. Yes, I sort of thought I posted the last couple of days when I actually hadn't (thank you pregnancy brain). And yes, I've got more going on in my head (and in life) than I know what to do with. That is why today, the post I thought I already posted, but didn't, is this one, just to tell you I can't focus long enough to write about anything other than my many balls I'm dropping. 

The only ball I'm petting today is the one that literally keeps my mouth full of coca-cola cake whilst I lay in any position that doesn't make me miserable (leg cramps, Shrek feet, growing pains, a kung fu master in my uterus). So, maybe I will post tomorrow. Maybe I'll just think I did. Until then, take care of your balls better than I seem to be. 

Candylandsenilefatass. OUT.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Buy me things, make me feel pretty

FRIENDS! I'm back from the s-thhha (see: Mitch Hedberg) and I couldn't be more miserable (pics and story to follow tomorrow)! Wait, that's not right, is it? Yes! It is! 1) I thought I wanted to be home until I realized, HOME IS BORING, and 2) Now that we're back, there's just too much to do to prepare for our forthcoming bundle. Seriously. It gives me hives just thinking of everything we have to do to transform our 2 BR house-->with STEEP STAIRS<--into something baby friendly. And if you have had any babies, furry or human, this is not an inexpensive feat. In fact, we're sort of freaking out. Probably more than offspring #1:
INSERT YOU, FRIENDS.

The internet is a wonderfully ridiculous thing. It's enabled the connections I've made with all of you, while simultaneously quenching my need to be heard, and to complain and celebrate and rejoice and gush over whatever I want. So, even though I know most of you are vacationing and breaking and all that jazz, I'm doing something incredibly tacky. I'm having an online baby shower! Because with all the house transforming, I have no idea how we're going to buy the things said baby needs. We've only registered for the things we really want/need, and gift cards are always welcomed, but if you get a chance, from now until I poop this kid out, please consider gifting us with something of the baby kind! Because you love me! And I love you a thousand times more! Think of the registry as my book and I want you to buy it. Yeah, that sounds convincing...

If this post repulses you as much as it does me, no worries! I still loves you (just a whole lot less since you won't buy me stuff) (kidding).

Now...

Buy me stuff. Please-->Babies"R"Us - Baby Registry

CandylandandbabySullivan. OUT.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Balls of the sweaty kind

Leave it to Talli to request a post on my balls. Not just any of my balls, but the sweatiest ones. You already know I like to juggle my balls and never leave home without at least twenty-nine of them. I'd have to say, though, most of my balls have dried up since the hubs knocked me up five months ago (click image to see bigger)(that's what she said).
So there you have a glimpse into my daily ball juggling. Tell me, which of your balls is the sweatiest these days? OH and go comment on THIS POST for a chance to win any book from The Book Depository. And until next week, I'm on VACAY...so...see ya...then...I...guess....

Tell me what your SWEATIEST ball is right now! Do it!

Candyland. OUT.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Feel Me Up Friday: The violin-playing cow-tipper

Well, Sheri wants to know what I was like in junior high. This is an easy one. Not me, but this post. Boring, but easy. Before I get after it, go ahead and re-direct everyone you know to THIS POST for your chance to win a free book of choice from The Book Depository. I know, it's getting old. But I do believe it's an important warning for anyone querying...

So...junior high...hrm....here's a whole mess of Random Facts:

I was weird (still am, but even weirder then).
In 5th grade, I broke my arm and got glasses.
I had 2 best friends.
I often went [pretend] cow-tipping...in the mall
Did I mention I was weird?
I made up boyfriends because I wanted to fit in.
I was the nice, awkward friend that wasn't pretty/smart/anything enough to be noticed.
I never let people see me sing.
I was heavy. Near 180 lbs heavy.
I played violin all 4 years.
The best teacher I ever had was in 5th grade.
My grades were good...until high school.
I followed the rules, but wrote of my disdain in private.
I was a good girl.
I was always searching for something.
I couldn't wait to be done with school so I could run away and follow Aerosmith on tour...

So there you have it. I've changed quite a bit, though, the core parts of me have remained in tact. Like, I'm still WEIRD. but I've realized over the years, weird is good. What were you like in junior high?


Candyland. OUT.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

FYI! I hear what I want to hear!

At first, I thought Linda G. suggested I write about men who play beach volleyball. But then I re-read the comment over again and it actually said "I think you should blog about guys (not girls) who play musical instruments. With pics ;)" So thanks, Linda. This is right up my alley...

Guys who play musical instruments are mysterious.
Guys who play musical instruments are SOO nice to look at.
Guys who play musical instruments are surprisingly good life partners...
Tell me, what musician makes you swoon? After you wipe the drool, please go leave a comment/send everyone you know to read THIS POST on trusting your instincts and you'll be entered to win your book of choice from the Book Depository.

Candyland. OUT.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

When I leave this place...

I guess some of you, or none of you, want to know what someone like me actually does on a vacation. Thanks to Heather and Alison, I shall tell you...

I will urinate a lot throughout a 17+ hour drive.
I will tell the offspring NO about nine millionTRILLION times.
I will daydream about THIS MAN.
Other than that, I plan on breathing, eating, and sleeping some, too. Sounds exciting, huh? You have no idea...
So now that you're all up in my business, go ahead, re-read THIS POST and comment for your chance to win your book of choice from The Book Despository.

But first, tell me...have any summer trips planned? Will you take me with you? I promise not to pee [too much]...

Candyland. OUT.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Kill a cup, save a nut(job)

Thanks to TIM<--aka Matty<---, today's post is ridiculous. Per yesterday's request, I asked for it, and you gave it to me. Good. I should've known you little sneaks wouldn't take it easy on me. So now, I give you a sonnet...about a mother trucking plastic cup.

My hatred for a cup has never been more, (seriously)
Greater than gators and coconuts and heat,
Its bright-colored plastic was quite the eyesore,
But my husband exclaimed "This is neat!"

The ugly cup was everywhere,
It tormented my every night's sleep,
My dear husband didn't have a care,
That his cup was some kind of creep.(a perv in the cuppiest way)

It happened one rainy day, (I don't remember)
I wouldn't just let the thing be,
I couldn't help but to throw it away,
Then I pretended that it wasn't me.(cats are good for blaming)

The cup will remain in our hearts and our minds,
Because that SOB nearly ruined our lives.

Yeah, it sucks, but what else would you expect in Candyland? Exactly. So now, go ahead and re-read (or read) THIS POST and leave a comment for your chance to win a book of choice via the Book Depository. But first tell me, what object have you ever had such an intense hatred or disliking for in your life? I can't be the only nutjob here.


Candyland. OUT.

Monday, June 13, 2011

There's a reason they call me The Pancake

Okay, so no one actually calls me that and why would they? Maybe because I flatten people's faces with my fists! Um, no. Anyway...With a MUCH NEEDED vacation/hiatus starting next week, I'm going to do something a little different. First, a contest. Did I slip that in subtly enough? I'm going to link back to THIS POST, everyday this week, because I think every writer should read my word of caution BEFORE signing with an agent. For every 10 additional comments (from a follower) on THIS POST starting today, I'll choose 1 name at random to win your book of choice from the Book Depository. Contest is open internationally, and while spreading the word is optional, it's appreciated. It's really important THIS POST gets everyone's attention.

In addition, if I reach 100 comments, I will draw a winner for one of these two shirts:
Second, for the next 5 business days (how professional), I want YOU to tell ME what to write about. It's mainly because I'm already in vacay mode but can't leave you hanging. So go ahead. I'll blog about anything YOU want. Catnip? Beach volleyball? Facial hair? Give me your best (or worst). Today through next Monday, I'll pick (again, at random) 5 posts to give a Candyland account of your subject, while linking to THIS POST at the bottom of each one. Sounds good? Or are you confused? Did you take your Meds today? Uh-huh...

Re-cap: Send peoples to THIS POST. Comment yourself. Well, not on yourself, but comment also. Winners will be chosen for every 10 new comments when I return from my GETTHEHELLOUTOFDODGECATION (I don't actually live in Dodge). It's like spreading an STD. Do it and pass it on. On top of all that, tell me here, on this post, what you want me to talk about for five days. This is as easy as your Aunt Helga. Either that or I'm severely dehydrated. Could be both.

Go for it, friends. I'm waiting.


Candyland. OUT.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Feel Me Up Friday: He got stuck in the hole and it's as funny as it sounds

My post on trusting your instincts was up for two days and I wanted to leave it up one more to give as many people as possible the chance to read my story. If you know anyone who hasn't read it, please pass it on. Together, we can save hopeful writers the trouble I found myself in, before it's too late. I had to take it down because I have something that needs to be shared. Immediately. If I don't tell you now, I'll implode. Okay, maybe that's too dramatic. I'll combust.

Apparently, whilst the hubs was off at work (he's a cable technician), and digging around in a basement crawl space, it seems as though he...got...stuck.

[Insert my continuous obnoxious laughter]

As he's telling me this story over the phone, I imagine my sweet, fearless husband, with only his back end hanging from the small hole, dangling like bait. The house owner + wife watched in horror as the hubs flailed his feet against the wall, trying to break free.

[OMG...I can't stop laughing]

As his boots wiggled and squirmed, the hubs attempted to remove his belt so he could [hopefully] slide out a little smoother. Somewhere in his struggle, he kicked over his work ladder and had to have the house owner grab his legs and literally PULL HIM FREE.

[.................]

Those of you who know my husband, he was obviously cracking jokes about his fat a$$ to relieve his humility. And I've tried not to laugh. Really, I have. But....hold on......

[.................]

Okay, all better. Wait...Let me get it out of my system:
Ahaha.....anywho...moving on....hahaha.....

Random Fact: While I've never been stuck in a hole in the wall, my offspring did get stuck in a bucket once. Like daughter, like father.

Random Fact: Completely off the subject of dignity loss, I recently designed some shirts for a TWLOHA contest. While I'm sure I won't win, it was fun to enter for a cause so close to my heart.
Well kids, I'm drained! Tell me, have you ever gotten stuck in anything? Tee-hee...

Candylandstilllaughing. OUT.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Trust your gut or be damned

Comment for the chance to win book of choice from the Book Depository (1 book for every 10 new comments). Winners announced July 1st. Help me reach 100 comments. Spread the word...

You know that funny feeling in the pit of your stomach? Not the one you get when you're in love, but the one that pinches and pulls you in a different direction than you're trying to go? That feeling should not be ignored. Ever. You may think the feeling will go away as you do whatever it is you want to do. It won't. The feeling will only grow into a beast that eats away at your insides.

Because somewhere along the line, you lost your way. You were wrong.

What I'm about to say is sensitive. Though I think if you can learn by me or circumstances surrounding, that's enough reason to do this. I signed with my agent in January of this year. If you remember, there was no celebratory post, though I'd been "working" with this agent since July of last year. Of course, I like to be low-key when it comes to writing, but also, this agent gave me that strange feeling and I ignored it. At first, it was all surreal. Like WOW I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING! Then, slowly, emails weren't returned and finally communication was cut off completely for about three months after the agent had promised revision notes that were never sent.

I was so heartbroken, I stepped aside from writing altogether. Until one day out of the blue, I got an email from the agent asking how the revision was coming along. I was flabbergasted and confused. Even with that feeling still gnawing in my stomach, she finally sent the revision notes and I got right to work. At that point, I wasn't doing it for her. I desperately wanted to transform my story into something amazing, because I knew I could, if someone would just believe in me.

In early January, despite interest from other agents, the agent offered representation. Though in retrospect, it was reluctant. I accepted NOT because I felt she was the best fit, but because I felt like I'd owed it to her for "working" with me for so long. She didn't want me to announce the news. She prompted me to "keep it to myself" and wait until my book sold like it would be sweeter that way, when really, it hurt and I felt like she was ashamed of me. And still, my stomach was burning a firey warning I didn't heed.

Through another round of revisions and a month's(+) worth of emails that were never returned, I decided to finally listen to my gut and terminate the contract. It was hard. I cried about it. A LOT. It felt like I was letting my story, my characters, my DREAM die. But I knew it had to be done. After the official letter, and emails, were sent, she never even responded...

And now, the reason this is all coming out now, is not to bash the agent. I'm grateful for the notes she gave me, and for a short time, letting me feel like I could make it. Recently she [unexpectedly] left agenting altogether, just weeks after I made the decision for myself. AND THANK BERT I DID. It appears as though this agent not only led me on, but (from what I hear) for those clients who were out on sub....SHE NEVER ACTUALLY PUT THEM ON SUB.

I can't even digest this information. I feel terrible for all those clients who didn't opt out like I did, and THOUGHT they were being represented in a good, honorable way. Lack of communication is one thing, but man-oh-man....to lie about putting someone's DREAMS on submission is a whole other level.

So, kids, while querying my beloved story for the last time, sit back and really listen to that feeling you're ignoring. It might be hard. It might suck. But it also might serve to protect you, before you get hurt. It doesn't only apply to writers, either. It applies to everyone with a neglected backbone. I want you to find it, use it and be strong. Remember, no one is in charge of your future, except you.

Honestly, friends, what would you have done here?


Have faith. You're gut will guide you. Promise.


Candylandstilldreaming. OUT.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

I think I forgot something...

So, um...*awkward silence*

I realize yesterday I sort of forgot something. Put on clean underwear? Check. Eat quota for a person three times my size? Check. Be some sort of mother to my 4yo? Uh-huh. Write a blog post? Whoopsi. Maybe I didn't completely forget, but let's just blame it on pure laziness/lack of desire/FATIGUE and call it a day. Actually, most of the summer will probably be this way, mainly because I have way too many things happening both inside my body and out. Sometimes I forget to breathe. Literally.

Anywho, to get you up to speed, my weekend was pretty much a LET'S SEE IF WE CAN KILL CANDYLAND fest. Between the heat, offspring's dance recital/early morning rehearsal/pre-rehearsal party (driving back and forth 25 minutes each way), a Strawberry Festival, my dad staying with us, work, errands, and all the eating I enjoy doing these days, I barely found time to daydream about BR80. I know. I can't believe it either.

The weekend was great, though, and I'm a pretty lucky girl with all the friends + fam that turned up to support my princess, despite my poor hubs being on call and OMG GET THIS...getting called out, just in time to miss the recital and everything...
Tell me, have you ever missed anything super important?


Candyland. OUT.

Friday, June 3, 2011

Feel Me Up Friday: What's in a name? HOPE

Friends! Today is a SPECIAL day. Because it's Friday? Yes. Because it's Strawberry Festival weekend where I'm allowed to eat as many chocolate dipped strawberries as possible and not look like a pig? Uh-huh. Also because, today, I want to celebrate a special friend who has inspired me more than words can say. That's right. I want to dedicate today's post to Mr. Lenny Lee, world's greatest virtual hugger + sweetest little man I know.
To get up to speed on who I'm talking about (if you've been under a tipped cow), READ HERE.

Okay, better? Good. Now, go wash those mitts. We've got some feelin' to do.

Random Fact in Lenny's honor: I use to rescue so many stray cats, I once attempted to start a non-profit to find homes for the animals. As it turns out, I was horrible at it and ended up keeping way too many cats. And now, I actually don't prefer cats anymore. Go figure.

Random Fact in Lenny's honor: So you know, I got myself knocked up five months back. Since then, we've found out we're having a boy. And what better way to celebrate my little friend, than to add a second middle name to our son's title:

SULLIVAN
(because we loves it)
MATTHEW
(after my father + it doesn't hurt BR80 sports it, too)
LEONARD <3
(for Lenny)
GANGER
(uhh yeah, tradition)

And with that, I want to know, what is your favorite summer festival and WHAT DO YOU GORGE ON? Mmm...


CandylandlovesloveslovesLenny. OUT.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

ATTENTION SANE PEOPLE: Connections of the writerly kind

The writer connections are hard to explain to outsiders (i.e. SANE PEOPLE). We have this world where we all are suffering and/or rejoicing in the same query processes, agent leads, and book woes. We visit each other's blogs (though I've been lacking lately...sorry), and offer support and type *HUG* a billion times a day. Not because we have to, but because we want to.

Knowing someone, without ever meeting them, is a unique experience. But real-life friends and family may not get it. In fact, if I have to explain ONE MORE TIME what it means to query, how NOT EASY it is to write a book and get it published, or why my book isn't on the shelf yet, I'm going to karate chop some faces.

And for the record, sane people, getting your book on your bookstore's shelf is a lot like:
a) Winning the Powerball's trillion-dollar payout
b) Meeting every idol you've ever had (Dear, Steven Tyler...where art thou?)
c) Someone picking you from a crowd and saying "hey, kid, I think I wanna give you a chance."
d) Getting the movie role where [insert your fav celeb] kisses you

It's not easy. Not everyone can do it. It takes patience, perseverance and a little talent. If I had a penny for every time I heard someone say "This happened to me. I think I'll write a book about it," I'd have a few pennies. Believe it or not, those books on those shelves are like little drops of faith. Someone out there believed in each of those authors or stories enough to give them a dream. But for every published author, there's another hundred or more aspiring.

I get it. We're a strange breed, facing rejection day after day. Through doubt and naysayers we press on. And we write. And we write. And we write some more. Because words are connections. Words are power.

And...we're all completely nuts.

Tell me, sane people: Ever thought you might write a book? 
Tell me, crazies (writers): What would you compare getting published to?

Candyland. OUT.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

How the eff...

...do you get every word of a headline wrong?
Tell me friends, without reading the article, what do you make of this headline? 


Candyland. OUT.
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