you work in here???” bellows Candice Gilmer’s seven-year
Candice replies, knowing that Spongebob Squarepants will kill the
ability to write anything even remotely sexy.
Not that she sits
far away – a mere twenty feet away from the television
and her daughter. Still, that twenty feet is evidently more
than the child can handle. The two-year-old, however, has no
problem with Mom in the other room, and is happily clanking
his trucks around, making the sirens go off non-stop.
Candice wonders who
bought the noisy toys, and thinks if she can remember, they're
going off the Christmas card list.
enjoyment of his truck ends because he comes into the kitchen,
grabs a bag of gummie treats and thrusts them, along with his
sippy cup at Candice. Evidently he desires food too.
And such is the daily
life of one Candice Gilmer, Mommy and Writer. She does have
a day job, well, an evening job, as a hairdresser, and has done
that for over fifteen years. Meanwhile, writing was always
in the back of her mind.
Even as a kid, she
was telling stories, memorizing “Cinderella,” the
voices Mommy used and all, and could recite it on demand at
Telling stories comes
naturally to Candice, a genetic trait of the family.
If you don’t
believe her, go to one of her family barbecues – everyone
tells stories, from her grandfather, her uncles, her brother,
to her mom. There’s no short, one liners from her family.
Every story is a production, slightly exaggerated, and usually
And if you’re
not careful, you might get roped in and not be able to get out.