One of the hardest things for me to do is write within the parameters of someone else’s making. Themes or starter ideas rarely motivate my creativity into anything substantial, so I agreed with some trepidation to write a short story for a Christmas-themed anthology coming out next year. For weeks my mind wandered in circles, trying to figure out a spinoff from one of my previous novels. Every idea I fleshed out ended up sounding so contrived to fit the Christmas theme they wanted, I cringed in disgust and threw it away. I didn’t care that it was only a short story. If it was going to have my name on it, then the story had to be a work I wasn’t ashamed of.

I awoke early Thanksgiving morning, my mind whirring with an idea that had nothing to do with any character I’d ever written before. I rushed from my bed and stumbled into the kitchen, my fingers scrawling on the first piece of scrap paper I could find.

The plot isn’t groundbreaking, but a funny reflection on a simple truth—the sweetest moments in our lives are those we don’t plan for. I promise, though short, Sidney’s story will be worth reading. Coming Christmas 2019.