The Missus

This is an excerpt (okay, the only part that’s written) from my latest idea for a holiday novel called “The Missus,” a warm comedy about Mrs. Claus trying to fix Christmas, getting wrapped up in publicity stunts and women’s rights movements, and ultimately discovering that the magic of Santa Claus depends on the strength of their marriage. Totally Hallmark, huh? Feel free to leave comments and suggestions as this idea (and the prose) is in its infancy.

Chapter 1: The Message

The door creaked open and Santa ambled toward the bed, dragging his heavy boots with each step before he slumped onto the bedcovers facing the ceiling. A puff of air escaped his chapped lips. “Done.”

Jessica had been sitting upright against her pillows, reading the latest Jodi Picoult novel. “Do you realize how close you were? You had the ETTs scared out of their wits.”

“You can tell the Elvin Time Team I’m doing my best, and I pulled it off, that’s what matters, right? If we had more magic, I wouldn’t have to hurry so much.”

“I don’t know what happened to your magic this year. I certainly didn’t use it. I still think you—“

“I don’t have a thief, Jessica. There is no inside job going on here. We didn’t produce enough and the demand is high—there’s so many kids and so many needs, I’m just trying to keep up! It would help if you were a more supportive wife sometimes!”

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Writing Excuse #12 (aka The Dreaded Flu Shot)

You’ll have to excuse my lack of writing today; it is time to take my three beautiful, talented daughters to the doctor’s office for flu shots. Based on historical evidence, I predict a) my oldest will be the biggest baby and psyche herself out, b) my middle daughter will be initially brave, then either nearly or completely pass out afterward, and c) youngest will feed off the other two and display an accumulative combination of older sisters’ behavior traits.

Have mercy on me.