When fear grips you, just say ballz

I never thought I would be here. This petrifying place where my hands tremble at the mere thought of writing something meaningful. It happened with one of my jobs. My boss asked me to write an article with 1/2 an hour left on the clock. At first glance, my heart sped as sweat fell from my brow. I looked over the reference articles, listened as the clock's tick grew louder, and cried, fear I would fail at something else, let someone down, be less than I'm meant to be.

Like the rejection I received an hour after finishing the article, even though I haven't queried or written in months.

I've never been in this place before. The world around me bustles in different directions. Friends straying, busy families falling to busier schedules, and my footprints, the marks I choose to leave, fade faster with each passing day. I've lost followers. My inbox is empty. My writing has stalled. Not just because I'm pregnant (with regular, strong contractions + high blood pressure already, btw...). Not just because I've been rejected more times than I can count (and betrayed by an agent) over a 2 year span. Not just because everything around me is moving too fast for me to catch up.

I sit, behind the scenes, as those around me get agents, sell books, make dreams come true. Dreams that use to be mine until I realized I wasn't on the right path. Some get married, have babies or move far from home much like I really want to do. Others stand still, like me (aside from the bun in my oven thing). But no one talks about it. Because to talk about it means to admit you're still...watching everyone move. I feel the waves pushing me into the currant, far from those at shore. I'm not sure what it means. For me, for writing, for life. But I know one thing.

I will not let fear, or money, keep me from reaching my destination. Wherever or whatever that may be.

I hope this finds you well, friends. Candyland is lonely without you. 

Candyland. OUT.

P.S. BALLZ. <--Just because.

In which there are man parts invading my body

Lately, my posts are sporadic but I never forget about you. Ever. In fact, without you, I don't actually have anyone to talk to except myself (which can be awkward when I'm sleeping). I don't believe the hubs has heard a word I've said since 1912, family knows I have a morbid fear of the phone unless it's via text and other friends...meh.  Basically, I MISS YOU. No joke (and why would I joke about that?).

While my writing self has taken a dramatic pause for thought, my pregnant self has taken an UHH-SERIOUSLY? moment as I ponder the giant (excuse the phrase) WANG growing in my body as we speak. I mean, I had doubts before, but after photographic evidence of my son's crazy big junk, I'm a little freaked out. It's one thing to change a diaper. It's quite another to chase a three-legged little boy around the house. At least if all else fails, he'll have job security in the adult film industry...

What's a mother to do? SCRATCH THAT. What's Candyland to do?

Well, after staring long and hard (pun and tended) at the disturbing ultrasound, I decided to do the only classy thing someone like me would do: BLOG ABOUT IT + POST A PICTURE.

Yeah...take that in, friends. This is happening.

Until next time, man or WOman, please tell me this is normal. Or, LIE TO ME. KThanks.


CandylandandbabySully. OUT.

Feeding the wolves...a step backwards

Like a lot of bloggers, I've sort of taken an unofficial hiatus (in case you haven't noticed). While everyone has their reasons, mine, as of late, aren't all pregnancy related. Sure, I could tell you I've been busy treating hemorrhoids and licking frosting off the refrigerator door (both untrue), but that's not it. In fact, it has more to do with this writing/publishing/social media thing. I don't know if I'm the only one. Maybe it's the hormones making me whack. Maybe my journey has taken too many turns and I'm not ready at this point in my life. Maybe I'm not meant to be one of the thousands of published authors blowing up Facebook and Twitter with a constant update of the status of their book.

Just not now.

With this baby we've worked so hard for so long to make, life takes a different perspective. Instead of spending hours at the computer spewing out stories, I'm spending time with my family. Instead of daydreaming about what my book will look like on the shelf, I'm creating a realistic goal, with my husband, for ours and our children's futures. There is no balance in writing and I guess, right now, the biggest ball I refuse to drop is that of my family, while I sit around and think of different titles for my next best seller.

This isn't the end of me, or my stories or my stupid posts. I'm just re-evaluating what my time is worth at this point in my life. And, if something miraculous were to happen, after all the pitch contests won, after all the full and partial requests, after the agent who crushed me to the point of surrender, I'd jump back in without skipping a beat. But for now, this is my reality. I will not disappear, and I will still post and be around for all of you, friends. I just need to breathe while I decide my fate, instead of waiting on others to tell me if I will make it or not. That's what I'm telling myself, anyway. Maybe if BR80 says it, I will actually believe it *scribbles note to harass famous bassist for a quote*

I'm rooting you on, friends. Maybe you have the drive I'm lacking right now. Maybe you have the next brilliant novel on your hard drive. Maybe you will be on the shelf, very, very soon. I hope that's true. I also hope Katie Holmes calls me soon so my offspring and Suri Cruz can have a play date.

See, I'm still me. But for now, I've stopped feeding the wolves:

(If you can't view, look up the lyrics to 10 Years "Shoot It Out"...)

Candyland. OUT.

Feel Me Up Friday: My apologies, Suri Cruz

Look! I remembered to blog today! This is today, isn't it? Or did I miss today and now it's tomorrow? Hrm...As you know, my loves + I were on a week-long vacation in the sunshine state, with a one-night stop in the Paula Deen State.

Um, if you've never gone through the crazy process of trying to get a spot at The Lady and Sons, I envy you. Sure, Paua Deen is like my cooking God, and the food was AAMMMAAZZIIINNGGG (my taste buds will never be the same again), but to actually get in, we had to be in line at 8:30 and wait until the hostess came out at 9:30 (in the blazing, Georgia heat) to put our name in. Then, we went back 15 minutes before our reservation and waited across the street for our name to be called. It was like being picked for kickball teams in elementary. I sucked at kickball.

Then, after a 24 hour stay in 110 heat index weather, we drove another 5 hours to our little town of Cocoa Beach. Every vacation we get, we stay at the same little condo because it's really far away from people and we pretty much get the beach, a few steps out the back door, to ourselves. People scare us.

The next day, we ventured to Disney World and thank BERT we have relatives who work there and gave us free passes or OMG it's crazy expensive. I'd have had to sell a kidney to make it happen. Wait...do I still have one of those left?

Anyway, some of you saw my FBook post on this but let me break it down: My child is Suri Cruz's new best friend (in my head).

We reluctantly strolled in to the Starlight Cafe because the womb baby was gnawing his way out of me. The place was packed. No empty table in sight. Except one table back from the front, directly behind a giant Disney balloon. Oh well. We were hungry. As we sat down, the hubs went up to get our food which seemed to be about 1.4 miles from our table. To entertain herself, the offspring started spraying the giant balloon with her SEVENTEEN DOLLAR water/fan. She thought it was hilarious. The little girl who owned the balloon, gently pulled it out of my offspring's destructive path and smiled. The two waved. I looked to the mother who managed a "hi." To the girl. To the African American man, arms crossed, staring a hole through me. And back to the girl who was hanging on the chair next to my child. You know how kids are. They're weird. They just stare and wave a bunch.

Actually, I do that too.

Long story short, my daughter is now Suri Cruz'z best friend. And Katie Holmes wears jeans, sweaters, boots and sunglasses in 100 degree weather. I'm pretty sure she'll call me any day now for a play date. My phone is on LOUD, just in case. I tried reaching for my phone to capture this insane moment of OMG-ness, but that bodyguard was not kidding around with that stare. And then I decided she's just a mom with her kid and I couldn't be one of those people with no respect. Actually, I would have if I could have found my damn phone in our giant backpack. Stupid black hole. I decided I'd just take a mental picture instead.

Random Fact: My brain has turned to Patrick's from Spongebob Squarepants. Come to think of it, my body has, too.

Random Fact: I feel disgusting in the heat. What happened to the days when I took a shower and it stuck? If you smell something funny, I blame Suri Cruz.

Tell me, would you have gotten your camera out anyway?


Candyland. OUT.