Well hello there, sugar! Pull up a chair and pour yourself a glass of sweet tea. We need to talk about something that’s been weighing on my heart like a casserole dish at a church potluck.
You know how in those fancy space movies, that little green fella Yoda shows up with his backwards talking and his deep wisdom? “Do or do not, there is no try,” and all that? Well, honey, I’ve come to realize that every good romance novel — especially the ones featuring our fabulous over-55 heroines — needs their own version of Yoda. Except instead of a wrinkled green alien in a bathrobe, she’s a Texas gal with a good push-up bra and a purse full of tissues, mints, and emergency chocolate.
Enter stage left: yours truly.
The Sacred Art of Sideline Cheerleading
Now, I didn’t set out to write myself into my Silver Linings series. Lord knows, I was just trying to tell stories about women finding love after life has knocked them around like a piñata at a quinceañera. But as I was writing my first heroine, Trish — bless her heart, trying to navigate online dating after her divorce — I realized she needed someone. Not a man, not yet anyway. She needed a girlfriend who’d already walked through that particular fire and lived to tell the tale.
She needed someone to sit with her at 2 AM when she was crying over her ex-husband’s Facebook engagement announcement. Someone to tell her that yes, those jeans make her butt look fantastic, and no, 63 is not too old to buy the red lipstick. Someone to remind her that God’s timing is perfect, even when it feels like He’s running on Texas Department of Motor Vehicles time.
She needed a Jeannie Marie.
The Ministry of Meddling (With Love)
Here’s the thing about being the sassy sidekick in romance novels — and in real life, come to think of it. It’s not about having all the answers. Heavens no! If I had all the answers, I wouldn’t have tried to bleach my own hair during the pandemic and ended up looking like a traffic cone for three months.
It’s about showing up with equal parts wisdom and “Well, let’s see what happens!” It’s about being the friend who says, “Honey, I’ve been where you are, and you’re going to be just fine. Better than fine. Now let’s fix your dating profile because listing ‘professional cat grandmother’ as your main hobby might be limiting your options.”
In my stories, I pop up when my heroines need me most. Sometimes I’m manning the margarita station at the community center (virgin margaritas for me, extra salt, extra lime). Sometimes I’m the voice of reason at the department store dressing room, talking someone into the dress that makes them feel like a million bucks instead of the sensible beige number that makes them invisible. And sometimes I’m just sitting in silence, holding a friend’s hand while she figures out that she’s braver than she thinks.
The Theology of Second Chances
You know what I love most about writing romance for women in their Bonus Years? It’s that we’re living, breathing testimonies to second chances. Third chances. Heck, some of us are on chance number seventeen, but who’s counting except the good Lord, and He’s got infinite patience.
Every time I write a scene where Jeannie Marie (the character me, not the real me — though sometimes I forget which is which) encourages a friend to try again, to open her heart one more time, to believe that love isn’t just for the young and the wrinkle-free, I’m really writing about grace. The kind of grace that says you’re never too old, too broken, too anything to start a new chapter.
That’s not just romance novel philosophy, darlin’. That’s Gospel truth dressed up in sequins and sass.
The Girlfriend Gospel
Here’s my theory: Every woman needs a Jeannie Marie in her life, and every Jeannie Marie needs her girls. It’s biblical, really — iron sharpening iron, except we’re more like mascara sharpening mascara, if that makes any sense. (It doesn’t, but you get my drift.)
In my books, when I show up with my coral lipstick and my unsolicited but spot-on advice, I’m not just moving the plot along. I’m representing all of us who’ve learned that girlfriend love is just as important as romantic love. We’re the ones who know that “text me when you get home” is a love language, that showing up with soup when someone’s sick is a sacrament, and that sometimes the best therapy is a friend who makes you laugh until your Depends are put to the test.
The Sacred Duty of Sass
Now, let me be clear about something: Being the sassy friend doesn’t mean being mean. There’s a difference between sass and nastiness, just like there’s a difference between honesty and cruelty. When I tell my fictional friends (and my real ones) the truth, it’s always wrapped in love, like bacon around a jalapeño popper — a little spicy, but ultimately comforting.
Sass is saying, “Honey, he’s not complicated, he’s just not that into you, and you deserve someone who thinks you hung the moon.”
Sass is refusing to let your friend settle for crumbs when she deserves the whole bakery.
Sass is reminding everyone that our crow’s feet are just proof we’ve smiled through decades of joy, and anyone who has a problem with that can kiss our well-moisturized heinies.
The Jeannie Marie in All of Us
Here’s the beautiful truth, sugar: We all have a little Jeannie Marie inside us. Maybe yours doesn’t speak with a Texas drawl or wear sequins on Tuesdays (your loss), but she’s there. She’s the part of you that knows your worth isn’t determined by your dress size or your relationship status. She’s the voice that says “try again” when you want to give up. She’s the friend you can be to others and the friend you need to be to yourself.
In my Silver Linings series, I may be the one serving virgin mojitos and truth bombs, but I’m really just a stand-in for all the wonderful women who’ve played that role in real life. The church ladies who know everyone’s business but guard it like Fort Knox. The book club friends who’ve read every romance novel ever written and still believe in happily ever after. The widows’ group that started as a grief circle and turned into a dating advice consortium.
The Call to Arms (Linked Arms, That Is)
So here’s my challenge to you, darlin’: Be someone’s Jeannie Marie today. Send that encouraging text. Tell your friend she looks gorgeous in that outfit she’s unsure about. Remind someone that starting over at 55, 65, or 75 isn’t crazy — it’s courageous.
And if you need a Jeannie Marie in your life? Well, honey, you’ve got one right here. I may be fictional in my books, but the spirit of encouragement, the belief in love at any age, and the absolute certainty that you deserve romance, adventure, and someone who makes your heart do the Texas Two-Step? That’s as real as my devotion to good support garments and even better friends.
Remember: Every heroine needs a cheerleader, every woman needs her tribe, and every romance novel needs someone to say, “Girl, you’ve got this. Now let’s update that dating profile and show these silver foxes what they’re missing.”
With love, sass, and a prayer for your happily ever after,
Jeannie Marie 💋
P.S. — If you see me in the Silver Linings series doing something outrageous, just remember: it’s fiction. Mostly. Okay, fine, it’s probably something I did last Tuesday. Don’t judge.