"Way to go, Paula! Way to go!"

By Jamie Hill

"And they all lived happily ever after." I totally concur. I'm a nut for Disney movies, Hallmark movies, Lifetime movies...wherever I can find them, as long as they have a HEA (happily ever after) ending.

To sit through a movie for hours and have it end unsatisfactorily is a bummer for me. I want to see the couple get together in the end (if not sooner.) The bad guy should get his comeuppance, the mystery should be solved. Come on, people, don't leave me hanging. Those movies that end suddenly with a black screen and I have to ask my husband what the hell just happened... No thanks.

As a reader and lover of romance, of course I want the books I read to end HEA. When I started writing, before I knew many publishers wanted HEA, I wrote it anyway. It just felt right. First and foremost, I had to write what I liked to read.

(The big exception is when I write horror. Horror, I like to leave unsettled, hanging so you're wondering... huh? But that's a whole 'nother animal.) Romance, to me, needs HEA.

I don't mind HFN, though these acronyms are getting a little tedious. *LOL* HFN, or happy for now, is sometimes necessary. When I'm writing a short story that takes place over a matter of hours, it's not always feasible for the characters to fall in love. We settle for HFN, and know that they're going to give it their best shot and see what happens. Lots of movies end that way. We don't know for sure what's going to happen with the couple, but they're going to have fun trying to make it work for a while, anyway.


Two of my favorite movies have the best HEA endings. In An Officer and a Gentleman, when Richard Gere walks through the paper factory with the theme song pounding in the background, my heart melts. "Way to go, Paula! Way to go!"



 


In Pretty Woman, when Richard Gere (do you sense a theme?) climbs the fire escape to 'rescue' Julia Roberts, and she rescues him right back...sob. I could watch those endings over and over again.






My Blame Game series ends happily ever after. In fact, I follow the main couple's family for twenty years, and in the epilogue everyone gets their own HEA. If you like romantic happy endings as much as I do, I hope you check the series out!

Find all my titles at: http://bookswelove.net/jamiehill.php

Mama, the Record Player, and Simon Cowell

~ by Jenna Byrnes ~

When I was a kid I was the lip syncing queen of the neighborhood. My favorite song was "The Nights the Light Went out in Georgia," -- not the knock off by Reba, mind you, this version was by Vicky Lawrence, of "Mama" fame. (Have I dated myself yet?) All I needed was the record player, (oops, just dated myself again), my hairbrush (microphone) and my vanity mirror, to make sure I looked my best.

The reason I was so good at lip syncing was that I was so bad at singing. I loved doing it, and did sing in my high school choir. (With a group, I guess I wasn't so bad.) I used to think being a famous singer would be the Coolest. Thing. Ever. Kind of like I now think being a NYT Bestselling author would be the Coolest. Thing. Ever. LOL

When my kids were little and got fidgety in the car, I used to sing to them and they loved it. I'd substitute their names in songs, or maybe throw in Batman's name, and they thought that was great. I'm not sure at what age they they began telling me, "Mom, if you want us to behave then please stop singing..." but it was a heart breaker. I still love to sing.

A friend once told me that not much looked dorkier than someone driving down the road singing along with her radio. I told her then and still say now, "tough cookies." I sing along with my car radio and if there's nothing good on I hit the CD button where I'm guaranteed to find a sing-along worthy song. We have a 6-disc CD player, I get three choices and the hubster gets three. I don't complain about his "Wooly Bully" or "Legend of Zelda" soundtracks, and he doesn't dare mention my Gordon Lightfoot or Air Supply. (So much easier to sing along to than today's music.) I do not rap, BTW.

If I had to trade in my writing abilities for another skill, I'd choose a good singing voice. I'm sure breaking into the big time for singers is just as hard as it is for writers. I just think I'd enjoy being able to belt out a tune in public and having people go, "Whoa! That girl can sing!"



If they'd had American Idol back then, I probably would have stood in line all day at the nearest audition for that one shot--and hope my voice didn't squeak when I got up there to belt out my tune. I might have peed my pants with nervousness waiting for the judges' critiques, and I would have been crushed when the snarky Brit shot me down. But it would have been fun knowing I had my shot.

I wonder if Simon likes Vicky Lawrence?

Note: This post was originally published on the Oh, Get A Grip Blog in September, 2009, When Simon Cowell was still a judge on AI. I could NEVER sing in front of Keith Urban!  :)  ~ Jenna

Aging Not So Gracefully by Ginger Simpson

My sister and I were talking about growing old, and we both explained our feelings in the same way. We both woke up one morning and realized we were old. I'm not just talking wrinkles...although that's a big concern...I mean aches, pains, eye problems, teeth problems. If you're over fifty, you're probably in the beginning stages. I hate to tell you, it doesn't get any better. I'd like to meet those people who said, "Life Begins at Forty." They forgot to mention it comes to a screeching halt after ten more years. *lol*

Cataracts is a term I've heard, but until I was diagnosed with them, I considered they only affected senior citizens. I made that comment out loud, then realized, I AM A SENIOR CITIZEN. No amount of waxing, plucking, or whining is going to change that. My friend keeps telling me to be thankful for every day I'm on THIS side of the grass, and although I am truly grateful for each and every day...I'm finding it hard to deal with looking in the mirror.

It's like your body takes on a mind separate from your own. Everything shifts at will, elongates, expands, thins, disappears or freezes up on you. As evidence I offer whatever held up my "neck skin." Clearly what ever it was has left me! And did I mention PAIN. Getting up and down is now a chore.

No one told me that blood pressure medicine causes something akin to 'male pattern baldness.' I suppose I could elect to have a heart attack with a full head of hair or hang around a while and try to cover up this bald spot smack dab in the front of my head. I stopped my hormone replacement therapy to remedy the mustache and sprouting stray hair dilemma, what next?

I've been married to my second husband for almost twenty years, and the first picture was taken at my wedding shower, the second,a couple of years ago at a Starbucks. I went to meet a new galfriend I connected with on theInternet, and thought I looked pretty good. Imagine my surprise when an old hag showed up in MY picture. I'd like to say someone photoshopped it, but I think they probably would have used someone else entirely...or at least airbrushed the face a tad.

What happened in those years that have passed.? Egads. In my fifties, people always told me I didn't look my age. Up until a few years ago, they even told me that. Guess what...no one is saying it anymore. I worried that since I married someone ten years younger, I would eventually really look much older than he, but I devised a plan to nag him at a rate that caused advanced aging. I checked him out today and it appears to be working. I might feel sorry for him if I wasn't so lost in my own self pity. *lol* I realize I was never a super model, but it doesn't matter how little or great the sacrifice... you either know what I mean or you will soon enough.

Oh, I know there are those of you who exercise, eat right, don't smoke, and will want to preach that you're over fifty and feeling fit and frisky, but that accounts for maybe one in fifty people. May I say...I don't like you much. *kidding.* I quit smoking in 1979, but I think the effects of the years I smoked just remained dormant until now. Those pleated lips I stopped to avoid still happened. It hardly seems fair when I didn't have an ample set of lips to begin with.  As my lips shrink, my hips grow, and my body is building a shelf around my middle for my boobs to rest on.  Who asked for it?  I don't recall putting in a request.

Honestly, I actually think God should have reversed the process. I don't mean to tell him what to do, but now that I'm experiencing the other end of life's spectrum, it just seems it would be easier to chalk up diminishing bladder capacity, poor eyesight, thinning hair, and holes in one's smile to being a baby. It's bad enough to watch old movies and realize that every one who starred in them is now dead, but every day, we face our own mortality  I've reached an age where loss is becoming commonplace...friends, not weight. Wouldn't it be wonderful, when you lose teeth and have fat rolls around your knees, to have someone come up and chuck your cheek and say how cute you look? Ain't happnin! I'm just saying that preparing for the end of your lifetime would be a lot less painful if you grew cuter and cuddlier every day.

Okay...that's my rant and pity potty for the day