I’m not one of those people who says “Oh, I don’t celebrate my birthday anymore.” Maybe I should be, but… Are you kidding?? I want presents! And cake! And cards from loved ones and friends! I’m still alive and kickin’ and I’m celebrating that!
Sure, I sometimes think about my age (48 today) and think, Ack! I can’t believe I’m so old! Where did the last 20 years go? My kids are about to enter college, my younger sister is a grandmother, and this year I will celebrate 22 years of marriage to the same man. I’m not young anymore. I’m way overweight. I have to take blood pressure medicine every day. I can’t do a cartwheel or climb a tree anymore. But hey, I’m Alive and I’m HERE! So, today I celebrate that fact.
And speaking of facts, here are some famous things that happened on my birthday (not the same year) and some famous people born on Feb 27th.
1594 – Henry IV is crowned King of France.
1797 – The Bank of England issues the first one-pound and two-pound notes.
1801 – Pursuant to the District of Columbia Organic Act of 1801, Washington, D.C. is placed under the jurisdiction of the U.S. Congress.
1812 – Poet Lord Byron gives his first address as a member of the House of Lords, in defense of Luddite violence against Industrialism in his home county of Nottinghamshire.
1860 – Abraham Lincoln makes a speech at Cooper Union in the city of New York that is largely responsible for his election to the Presidency.
1922 – A challenge to the Nineteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution, allowing women the right to vote, is rebuffed by the Supreme Court of the United States in Leser v. Garnett.
1964 – The government of Italy asks for help to keep the Leaning Tower of Pisa from toppling over.
1974 – People magazine is published for the first time.
1991 – Gulf War: U.S. President George H. W. Bush announces that “Kuwait is liberated”.

Other famous People born on my birthday:
272 – Constantine I, Roman emperor
1807 – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, American poet
1902 – John Steinbeck, American writer, Nobel laureate
1930 – Joanne Woodward, American actress
1932 – Elizabeth Taylor, British-American actress
1962 – Adam Baldwin, American actor
1980 – Chelsea Clinton, daughter of Bill and Hillary Clinton

So what about you? Do you still like to celebrate your birthday? If so, how?
(I’m on a writing retreat this weekend to plot some new Blazes and won’t be able to reply to comments,very often but I’ll get here at least once to read them!)

I heard about this song from my dear friend and mentor, Silhouette Desire author, Emilie Rose. I know some of you may not enjoy Country music, but give this a chance. It’ll be worth your 4 minutes.

Watch the video

I\'d Love to be Your Last

If I had it my way.
This would be the first time that you made love.
I’d be the first man that your hands touched.
But we’ve both done our share of living.
Takin chances we were given.
I’ve never been big on looking back.
I don’t care if I’m your first love.
But I’d love to be your last.
If I could do it over.
I’d have waited for this moment to give my heart to you unbroken.
But if our mistakes brought us together.
Doesn’t really matter whether, we were saints or sinners in the past
I don’t care if I’m your first love.
I’d just love to be your last.
All I know is what I see when I look at you.
And all I see is what I’m feeling down inside.
And all I’m feeling is the feeling that I finally got it right.
When I wake up tomorrow.
I’m going to throw my arms around you.
Thank my lucky stars I found you.
Cause I know your heart has so much more than any man has touched before and
Nothing matters more to me than that.
I don’t care if I’m your first love, but I’d love to be your last.

Sung by Clay Walker
composed by Sam Tate, Annie Tate, Rivers Rutherford

Do you have a favorite romantic song?

December 27th. It’s kind of a limbo day between Christmas and New Year’s Day. Nothing really special about this day. The excitement of the holiday, the parties, the gift giving is over, and on top of that, some of us may even have to go back to work tomorrow. Or worse, some of us may be working retail today and patiently helping all the people who are out returning everything they received and didn’t like. Ugh. A job I used to have and respect greatly. If I know my critique partner–and I do–she’s already got her Christmas decorations down.
When I was a child the days between Christmas and New Years were magical. No school. All the new toys to play with. Baked goodies my mom only made at that time of year, and the best thing: playing the new board game with my mom, dad, and sisters.
Every year we’d get a new game, and we’d play it for the next week. Anyone else remember a game called Masterpiece?
Or how about Mille Bornes?
And who didn’t play Life?
Ahhh, my childhood. Those were the days…

Now days when asked my favorite holiday, I half-jokingly answer; Labor Day. It’s the only holiday I don’t have buy, wrap, bake, cook, or cater to someone else. I still love Christmastime, but as an adult, I have a lot more work and a lot less time to play during the Christmas break.
And yet, there’s still something special about Christmas. I still believe in Santa Claus, and in the magic of this season. Every year I feel the ghosts of Christmases Past—my grandmother, my grandfather, and my father–surrounding me with their love, living in my heart.
I feel the excitement of Christmas Present, the anticipation of all my loved ones opening their gifts, eating a wonderful meal, and sharing the day.
And I can envision Christmases to come, when I might be dangling a beloved grandchild on my knee and watching with unspeakable joy as she experiences her very first Christmas.
Oh yes, I still believe in Magic.
After all, there’s nothing more magical than love.

I’m under a tight deadline right now and beg everyone’s patience if I repeat a blog I wrote in the summer of 08 on my Sizzling Pens Blog. It has a “thankful” theme and was one of my favorites:
July 12th, 2008
After virtually ignoring my kids, husband, and house for weeks while I lived in a deadline cave, I vowed to spend time with them once I turned in my manuscript. So, finally free at last, for the past couple of weeks I’ve devoted my days to taking my kids to movies and water parks, making nice dinners for hubby, and getting the house organized. One project was getting years worth of photos put into albums.
As I looked back on pictures from the past 20 years, I started feeling, well…old. Wow, I looked so much thinner and younger back then! I was newly wed, my kids were babies, my house was CLEAN. Ahhh, those golden years.
It’s easy to think of them that way. Now days my kids are sneering teens, I’m fat and menopausal, and my house needs new floors, new counter tops in the kitchen, new paint, er…dusting.
I find myself craving the day my kids move out and I have the house to myself and hubby again. I yearn for the day when my day IS my own again, when I’m not a 24 hour on-call chauffeur with the never-ending loads of dirty laundry and a perpetually full sink of dirty dishes.
But then I spend a day with my mom, who lives alone since my father’s death, and who is finding it harder to get around lately, and I realize I am never again going to be as young as I am right now. And maybe someday I’ll wish for these days back. When my day was full of people who needed me, and my kids’ safety and decisions for their future were still somewhat under my control. Once they go out into the world, maybe I’ll wish them back home, where I’m still a big part of their lives, and can kiss them goodnight in their beds every night, and know they’re safe when I go to bed.
I’m a country music fan and Trace Atkins has a song out called, You’re Gonna Miss This. The lyrics talk about how fast the days go by, and they’re so true. Sometimes, it seems like only yesterday I was holding my first newborn in my arms.
I don’t want to look back on my life and realize I missed the good stuff by always yearning for tomorrow. So, I’ll try not to wish these “golden days” away and enjoy the moment I’m living in now. Dirty laundry, sneering teens, and all.

Twenty years ago one probably thought of a romance writer like this

The infamous Dame Barbara Cartland.
But even then, she was the exception, not the norm.
My daily life is somewhat different.
First I drag out of bed and drive my teens to high school in a ratty robe and sleep-tangled hair. I admit, I do brush my teeth first, but humiliating my teens by dropping them off at school in my robe and beat up mini-van is shear payback for all the crap my teens have given me over the years. Once I get home again I make breakfast for the 10 year old and get her off to school. Then if I’m feeling really determined, I spend 15-20 minutes working out to an old Jazzercize tape. I shower, eat a bowl of cereal, make some coffee, then finally sit down to my computer. But do I immediately open the word doc with my current manuscript and start writing? Oh no.
First I check my To Do list, reply to the emails from RWA chapter loops, author loops, conference planning team loops, and a few personal emails, call the high school and speak to one of my daughter’s teachers about her grade or class she wants to get out of, fill in and address 15 invitations for my daughter’s roller skating birthday party in a few weeks, and make a few other phone calls for doctor and dentist appointments for the kids. Then of course there’s the all important bill paying/checkbook balancing, and last but not least, I must play solitaire and/or Jawbreaker while I listen to music I consider the “soundtrack” for my current manuscript. By then it’s time for lunch.
If I’m really in a procrastinating mode, I’ll even do laundry. I know. Desperate, huh? Anything but face that blank page or that snag in the plot.
So, of course, I end up staying up until 2 or 3 in the morning writing, which is what I did when my kids were toddlers and I didn’t have 10 minutes to myself during the day. I haven’t come very far, have I?
Oh, I’ve had those rare good days when the words flow and I write 17 pages straight by the time I have to pick up the kids from school. But I don’t seem to ever have a solid week of reaching my goal, which is 5 pages a day. I used to think I could just force it. If I sat at the computer and really thought hard about my characters or my plot points I could figure out what to write next. After all, I’m a plot-driven writer, not a “Pantser” (someone who writes by the seat of their pants) or a character-driven writer like my 2 Critique Partners who absolutely let their characters tell them what is going to happen next. No, no. Not me. I am in control of this plot.
But more and more I seem to need to get up and walk away from the keyboard and do something else while my subconscious works out the problem. Catherine Spangler http://www.catherinespangler.com/gives a wonderful workshop about the subconscious writer, but I never thought I WAS one. My CPs can go to sleep blocked on a writing problem and wake up knowing the answer. Not me. Sometimes I just have to let it go, read a good romance from my To Be Read pile, or watch a favorite romantic movie, and that will spark the answer I need.
But the most important thing is knowing I WILL figure it out eventually, and come back to the writing with a better scene, or knowing my character better, or just how to transition to the next scene. At least at this point in my writing life, I know I don’t have to give up and go apply at Wal-Mart.
Who knew a romance writer’s life was so…Unromantic?

When I was growing up, there was always a Reader’s Digest lying around the house. I devoured those things from front to back. The articles, the laughs, and especially the Quotable Quotes. But since we’ve had kids, a Reader’s Digest subscription is just one more of the casualties of a tight budget.
Recently on Facebook, I’ve noticed friends posting quotes now and then and I really enjoy them. In fact, sometimes I copy and paste them into my “Favorite Quotes” word document. Funny, I started that doc to save quotes years ago when I was looking for the perfect quote to use at the beginning of a Historical Romance I was writing at the time, never remembering the Readers Digest page until I sat down to write this blog.
So, without further ado, I’d like to share my top ten favorite quotes from my long list.
• I believe as I did as a child, that life has meaning, direction and value; that no suffering is lost; that each drop of blood and every tear counts; and that the secret of the world is to be found in St. John’s “Deus Caritas est” – “God is love.” –Francois Mauriac
• “It takes so much to be a full human being that there are very few who have the enlightenment or the courage to pay the price. One has to abandon altogether the search for security and reach out to the risk of living with both arms. One has to embrace the world like a lover…” — Morris L. West, Shoes of the Fisherman
• Learn as if you were going to live forever. Live as if you were going to die tomorrow. — Mahatma Gandhi
• I will experience everything in life, so that on the final journey to my death, the nights will not be haunted by regret. – Lady Chatterley’s Lover
• It is the soul’s duty to be loyal to its own desires. It must abandon itself to its master passion.” – Rebecca West
• “Dreams dwell in the hidden places of the soul.”
• “We sleep safely in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence upon those who would do us harm.” —-George Orwell
• “Keep away from small people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great ones make you feel that you, too, can become great.” –Mark Twain
• “Revision is like wrestling with a demon, for almost anyone can write; but only writers know how to rewrite. It is this ability alone that turns the amateur into a professional.”– William Knott
• When we read good fiction it is to understand the human experience, to share or try to share, the feelings and intuitions of another. That other is a character, is an author, since, I’d argue the character is the author, at least a facet of the author, an alternative, a glimpse of, a parallel, a doppelganger, an inner being (maybe one of many), but no less human and no less revealing for being part of a part or a reflection of a dream or suppression. — Alex Keegan

Well, I finally did it. I joined Twitter. (you can find me under JILLIANBURNS) I am now a “twitterer”? I tweet? Yesterday I twitted? Whatever. I’m so proud of myself. I can barely operate my cell phone, and yet I managed to do this all by myself. I admit, I paid my 16 year old daughter to set up my MySpace page and my 14 year old son had to show me how to set up my Facebook page. Even my 72 year old mother can take her new Handy cam and download her videos onto a DVD all by herself. But this is a first for me. I’m somewhat intimidated by all these new-fangled electronic miracles.
Recently I was telling my youngest how when I was her age, (9) there was no such thing as a microwave, and there were only 4 stations on television and no way to “rewind” or “pause” a TV show. She seemed horrified at my Neanderthal-like childhood. She’ll never know what it’s like to place a needle on an album to play a song. The expression “a broken record” means nothing to her. Probably because I’m getting older, I tend to remember those days with a nostalgic twinge. They seemed slower-paced, simpler, more peaceful.
And though I try to make my kids have electronic-free experiences by taking them camping and making them leave their i-pods and cell phones at home, I admit I enjoy the luxuries all these new inventions have to offer. (I can remember my car breaking down on the side of the road in freezing weather and having to walk to a gas station with a pay phone…)
And I’ve enjoyed finding old friends from high school and keeping in touch with new friends I’ve met at RWA National through Facebook (find me as Juliet Burns). I’ve really enjoyed hearing from fans who’ve emailed me through my website www.julietburns.com and all my Yahoo-groups where I can connect with so many wonderful writers for information and support in my career. And of course, this blog, where I can read about what other authors are thinking and doing and I can ramble on about things that interest me… Oh dear, I’m rambling, aren’t I?
Anyway, I was so excited to brag to my oh-so-cool, er…hip? teens that I’m now on Twitter! Hah! Finally I did something before them AND without their help!
My daughter stared at me with look of sympathy for her poor, behind-the-times mother and said, “Twitter is so lame.”
I can’t win.

“It was one of those haphazard decisions that you make casually and affects the next 30, 40 years of your life.”
Garrison Keillor – The Man on the Radio with the Red Shoes.

My husband and I are huge public radio fans, Prairie Home Companion fans in particular. Recently, we were watching an American Masters program called The Man on the Radio with the Red Shoes about Garrison and his radio show, which has been on the air since he started it in 1974. He told of how he grew up in a small town in Minnesota but always dreamed of living in New York and writing for The New Yorker Magazine. But a glancing thought while at the Grand Old Opry in Nashville about how he could do a radio show like the old Opry show changed the course of his life.
At the National RWA conference in DC last week, a young lady who’d just joined RWA sat beside me—or rather I sat beside her—at a workshop and we got to talking before the author began speaking. I recalled my first national conference and how awestruck I’d been. I told her how less than a decade ago I would never have dreamed I’d get to someday meet the wonderful authors I’d been reading for years, much less BE a published author.
Me? Be a writer? If someone had told me that in high school, I’d have given them a polite yet worried look and thought they were one beer short of a six-pack. The worst grade I ever received in my straight-A-student life was a C in Honor’s English class my senior year, because no matter how I poured my heart into a 12-page dissection of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby the teacher thought my writing stunk.
And it probably did. I wasn’t a writer in my youth. I didn’t yearn to scribble stories from the moment I could hold a crayon. I never kept a diary or a journal. And I absolutely hated writing papers for school.
But I was a reader. I started out with Nancy Drew in 3rd grade and never looked back. The Witch of Blackbird Pond. Island of the Blue Dolphins. Jane Eyre. All the Georgette Heyers and yes, all of Barbara Cartland’s novels I could get from our small suburban library. When I was 14 I borrowed my mom’s copy of Kathleen Woodiwiss’ The Flame and the Flower. I read Phyllis Whitney,
Catherine Cookson and Mary Stewart. Every summer my mom would have to force me to get my nose out of a book, get off the couch and go outside. As I grew older my reading tastes turned to Romantic Suspense. Barbara Michaels and Elizabeth Peters, Elizabeth George and Anne Perry. Then one day in 1997, with 2 toddlers in tow, and having exhausted the library of all my favorite authors, I turned to the paperback rack out of sheer desperation. And I read Amanda Quick’s Ravished. It was my first adult experience reading hot sexual tension and a strong heroine making passionate love. I was hooked on the modern Romance novel.
So, how did I end up being a writer?
It just started with a story in my head. It stayed there for about a year and a half. Finally we got a computer with a WORD program and I thought it might be fun to see if I could actually write the story. After joining RWA and learning some of the craft of writing, and after finding wonderful critique partners who stuck with me through 3 years of revisions, it sold! Part luck, part timing, true, but…I’d sold a book. Something *I* wrote! Maybe I wouldn’t have to work at Wal-Mart after all. Of course, I say that same thing every time I get a new contract. (Took me another 3 years to get my second contract) But I can’t help but look back and think–how did I ever imagine that I could be a writer? Never in my wildest dreams…
Hopefully that haphazard decision I made so casually will affect the next 30-40 years of my life.
You just never know.

Hi. My name is Jillian and I’m a movieholic.
I confess. I love going to the movies. I love the dark theater. The smell of popcorn, the stadium seating and surround sound, and mostly the experience of losing myself in someone else’s world for 1.5 – 2 hours. I especially love a big sweeping Historical drama like MASTER AND COMMANDER or AUSTRALIA. But I also love a good romantic comedy.
This weekend I saw THE PROPOSAL with Sandra Bullock and that cute guy from Scrubs, Ryan Reynolds. It’s your basic Fake Engagement/Marriage of Convenience story. And I loved it.
Over the years I’ve read countless Marriage of Convenience romances. I even helped plot one with my critique partner in her first novel for Harlequin American–on shelves in July called LAST RESORT: MARRIAGE (shameless plug) And yet they’re all different, all great stories, wonderful romances. So, what makes the same basic plot work over and over again?
In The Seven Basic Plots: Why We Tell Stories, by Christopher Booker, the author proposes that there are only 7 basic plots in the world. They are:
Overcoming the Monster – Usually a lone hero but sometimes a group who set out to save a community or the world from an evil villain, whether it be evil man, animal, or alien.
Rags to Riches – Usually a demoralized character who fights to find his or her place in the world
The Quest – features a hero, normally joined by sidekicks, who must overcome many difficult adversities to secure a priceless treasure
Voyage and Return – The hero must leave his ordinary world to embark on an epic journey that usually involves danger. The hero ultimately learns a life lesson in order to return home.
Comedy – Can be slapstick or wit that drives the story.
Tragedy – When human flaws drive a hero to terrible consequences.
Rebirth — centers on characters who undergo life-changing transformation. In his book, Booker states that the 1975 movie JAWS is the same basic tale that was told over a thousand years earlier in BEOWULF; Overcoming the Monster. Both stories feature a town terrorized by a monster who rips his victims to pieces. And both have a hero who defeats the monster in a gory final battle, restoring peace to the town. Many modern movies and novels follow this plot, even if the “monster” is an evil genius bent on destroying the world, as in every James Bond story.
What about the Rags to Riches plot? DAVID COPPERFIELD, and OLIVER TWIST come to mind. And there’s CINDERELLA, of course, and all the many versions of that story like… PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, or MAID IN MANHATTAN.
The Quest? Well, there’s the obvious; DON QUIXOTE, and Tolkien’s LORD OF THE RINGS. There’s also THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO, THE SURE THING, UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN
Voyage and Return? Homer’s epic tale, THE ODYSSEY, ROBINSON CRUSOE, and of course THE WIZARD OF OZ. In more modern times, perhaps KATE AND LEOPOLD or 13 GOING ON 30
Comedy: A MISUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM, EMMA, THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST, THE WEDDING PLANNER, MUST LOVE DOGS
Tragedy: ROMEO AND JULIET and WUTHERING HEIGHTS, NIGHTS IN RODANTHE, ATONEMENT
Rebirth: SNOW WHITE, SLEEPING BEAUTY, PERSUASION,
P.S. I LOVE YOU, JUST LIKE HEAVEN

These 7 basic plots represent the fundamental human desires: love, death, adventure, family, justice, and adversity. And these desires were as relevant to people thousands of years ago as they are today. We identify with these basic human desires in all their many forms of story. But we must also identify with the characters. They’re as individual as every human being. Compelling fiction will contain conflicts and complications that prevent the protagonist from achieving love, or fortune, or peace. And if we identify with the character, we want him or her to come through the storm and win the treasure or the love or the peace they’ve been fighting for.
I’ve been listing classic novels and contemporary movies, but what about the contemporary romance novel? Specifically, Blaze. Julie Leto talked in her blog on the 22nd about Harlequin Blaze having everything: Historical, Paranormal, Suspense and Comedy. This got me to thinking—always a dangerous thing—could we find a Blaze for each of these 7 Basic plots? In Jo Leigh’s IN TOO DEEP series, we find the protagonists Overcoming the Monster–Corrupt Government–and restoring peace to the world.
What Blazes sit on your keeper shelf? And what basic plots can you identify in them?

There’s a Country song by Tim McGraw with the lyrics, “I’ll show you how a real bad boy can be a real good man.” I love that song. And I love Bad Boys. Maybe not so much in real life (although there are exceptions) but most women definitely love a Bad Boy hero in a Romance novel.
In a Historical Romance he’s The Rake, The Scoundrel or the Gunslinger. In a contemporary, he’s usually the Biker or the Player-the Serial Dater. But he can also be the CEO, the Sheik, the Cowboy, or the Navy Seal. Any man can be a Bad Boy. I’m a fan of the archetypes book, HEROES AND HEROINES by Tami Cowden, Caro LaFever, and Sue Viders. In their book they list a Bad Boy’s traits as: “Charismatic, Street Smart, and Intuitive.” They say he can be “The boy from the wrong side of the tracks.” or “The Rebel.” Tami Cowden, et al lists such examples as Johnny Castle from DIRTY DANCING and Jack Mayo from AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN.
Johnny and Jack are perfect examples, and if you have the chance I recommend this book for more insight into The Bad Boy.
My Critique partners and I were discussing Bad Boys from our own works in progress at our annual retreat one year and came up with a list of traits we would add:

1. He has a temper
2. He’s cynical, an outsider, doesn’t like rules
3. He’s not a big talker.
4. He’s aloof, acts as if he couldn’t care less
5. He never explains himself
6. He’s unpredictable, exudes an air of danger
7. He’s a passionate lover
8. He never admits he’s wrong
9. He’ll take the blame whether it’s his fault or not
10. He never runs from a fight and doesn’t mind picking a fight if he’s in a temper
11. His word is his bond
12. He never lets anyone see the goodness inside him, or his fears, or any feelings for that matter
13. He doesn’t believe in love
14. He’s possessive, won’t share his woman
15. He’s capable of pouring all his passion and love into a lifetime devotion to the woman who can love him and make him want to be a better man.

And that last trait is the fantasy. The end game. The reason we read Romance. We might all have a Bad Boy in our past somewhere. Maybe it worked out, maybe it didn’t. But in a Romance, the heroine always gets her man.

They say a reformed rake makes the best husband. And in a Romance the Bad Boy can be a real good man to love. So, any Bad Boy heroes you can’t forget? Any Bad Boy tales you care to share? Any true life stories of reforming a Rake?