Some stories are written in the margins—half-formed, unfinished, too painful to revisit. But sometimes, those are the stories that matter most. In The Side Project, Laurel Osterkamp brings emotional honesty and quiet tension to a tale of two people navigating the messy space between past heartbreak and present possibility.

Rylee never expected to stay in Bemidji, Minnesota. But ten years after her father’s death, she’s still there—working odd jobs, raising her younger brother, and clinging to the legacy of the unfinished novel her father left behind. Her own creative dreams have been put on hold. Carson, the boy who broke her heart, was supposed to leave for good. But now he’s back—as a single father enrolled in the same graduate fiction workshop. When the two are paired as writing partners, their reunion is awkward, emotionally charged, and impossible to ignore. Their “side project”—a fictional collaboration—becomes a thinly veiled channel for real feelings, old wounds, and unresolved desire. As fiction and memory blur, Rylee and Carson must decide whether they’re willing to risk their carefully guarded lives to explore what’s still unfinished between them.

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About the Author

Laurel Osterkamp is the author of Beautiful Little Furies (an Amazon #1 bestseller), Favorite Daughters, and several other novels that explore emotional recovery, personal reinvention, and the complex intersections of love and ambition. A Minneapolis-based writer and longtime educator, she blends heartfelt character work with literary nuance to create stories that resonate with readers who crave depth, vulnerability, and smart, slow-burn romance. Her writing is known for being relatable without being predictable—perfect for fans of Emily Henry, Katherine Center, or anyone who believes that fiction can be a powerful mirror for real life. You can follow her on Instagram or visit her website for updates, extras, and newsletter content.

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Excerpt

I steel myself and step out of my car, determined to keep things businesslike today. The sight of Carson outside raking leaves, ruggedly adorable with Ferris running circles around his feet, does nothing to break my resolve. I tell myself: You’re here to work. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Hey, Rylee.” He grins, pushing up his sleeves. “You’re right in time to hold the leaf bag.”

I don’t have time to respond before a happy splash of black fur races past us, yipping and barking. I laugh, and Carson shakes his head, smiling as well.

“Ferris loves chasing leaves,” Carson says.

Ferris circles us. Running in the autumn wind, his mouth is full of fluttering colors and twigs.

I contemplate Carson’s leaf bag. “The hardest part is always getting in the first few handfuls of leaves. Did you know they have these cardboard insert thingies that keep the bag open?”

Carson holds his rake with one hand. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. My dad was excited when he discovered them at the hardware store. It used to be our thing, my dad and I, bagging leaves together.”

“Oh.” Carson’s mouth goes slack, and his eyes pool with sympathy. It’s like he backed over a bunny rabbit by accident. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up old memories.”

I wave off the awkwardness as if I’m shooing away bugs. “No worries. It won’t break me to hold the bag open, and I’ll even push down the leaves as you put them in.” My words come out in a rush. “Where should I put my computer?”

“I’ll put it inside. Do you also want me to take your purse?”

“Sure, thanks.” I hand him both.

He takes them through his front door as a gust of wind threatens to upend Carson’s carefully constructed leaf pile. I snatch up the rake, ready for battle. “You won’t escape me, bitches!” I yell at the flying leaves.

I look over to see Carson on his front stoop, watching my wild efforts like I’m a vaudeville spectacle he can’t quite believe. Embarrassed, I kick at the ground. “I didn’t want all your hard work ruined.”

His expression is serious. “Have you tried positive reinforcement? I’ve found that fallen leaves don’t respond well to punitive measures.”

“Right,” I reply, “because they have nothing to lose. Their fate is inside a garbage bag or being trapped by an uncaring tire. Snow will cover the lucky ones until after the thaw.” I run the rake through the grass at my feet. “Then they’ll get scooped up—along with all the dog poop and candy wrappers the trick-or-treaters leave behind.”

Using his index finger to rub his chin, Carson considers this. “Trick-or-treaters leave behind dog poop?”

“Some of the angry ones do.”

He laughs—and darn if he isn’t cute when he smiles—before saying, “Guess I’d better buy good candy this year.”

“No black licorice or breath mints.” I let out a low groan. “But the worst are those peanut butter-flavored taffies wrapped in orange or black wrappers.”

“Those are the worst. I never ate them.”

“Me neither.”

I hold open the bag, and Carson bends down, scoops up the leaves, and stands very close as he shoves them inside. I’m painfully aware of how his Levis-clad butt looks oh-so-good when he bends over. After the bag is full, he glances up at his tree and down at his yard, thanking me for my help. Then he sort of stands there, gazing at me, and I can’t help but ask. “What?”

“Nothing. Sorry. You’d lose all respect for me if I told you,” he mumbles.

“Now you have to tell me.”

He brushes a leaf from his sleeve. “No, really,” he stammers, “it’s ridiculous.”

I nudge his ankle with my sneaker’s rubber toe. “Try me.”

Rolling his eyes skyward, he asks, “Did you ever read The Majestic Seven? That fantasy about the seven heroes who must save their kingdom?”

“No,” I reply. “But I’ve heard of it. Why?”

Carson’s cheeks turn the slightest bit pink. “I was thinking how you’re like Lady Seraphina.”

My hands fly to either side of my face. “It’s because of my pointy ears, right?”

“What? No.” He blinks in confusion. “Why would you make that connection?”

“Because I saw the trailer for the movie adaptation, and the only female character is an elf. The tips of her ears are like razors.”

“No!” Carson swallows a laugh. “God, no, that’s not what I meant.”

I look him up and down. “Well, what did you mean?”

His voice sounds like a worn vinyl record, smooth in the center but scratched at the edges. “You’re the type of girl who could save the world.”

“You mean ‘woman’ and not ‘girl,’ right?”

“Of course. Sorry.” He releases a self-conscious chuckle. “You’re the kind of woman who could save the world. One hundred percent.”

“Thank you.” Then, feeling that magnetic pull, I drop my gaze to the ground.

He hits his forehead. “God. I’m such an idiot. I promised I’d be professional today, and I’ve already blown it, haven’t I?”

I search for a response. Thankfully, Ferris runs up to me, and I busy myself with petting him. “It’s fine. But I don’t understand. Why would I lose all respect for you?”

“Because you’ll realize I like fantasy novels.”

Kneeling down, I let Ferris nuzzle my shoulder. “Please. As if I didn’t already know? Remember how in high school, you’d check out The Prince of Saturn and slide it into your backpack before anyone could see?”

Carson raises an eyebrow. “Except for you.”

I notice a renegade leaf on my shoulder and brush it off. “That’s right. Because I was also always in the media center after lunch, most likely checking out some gothic romance, which is way more looked down upon than science fiction or fantasy.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t on the hockey team.” He smirks. “If the other players knew about my reading habits, they’d have kicked my ass.”

“So, you tried to pretend you weren’t smart? How’d that work out for you, college boy?”

He opens his mouth to respond but laughs instead. “Hey, you mentioned gothic romance, and that reminds me. I dug your story. A contemporary Charlotte Brontë! It was so original. I don’t have very many revision notes for you, because the story flowed. And I’m worried that if you rework it a lot, you’ll lose that.”

“Thanks, I’m glad you liked it. I liked your story too, and not just because you liked mine.” Shifting my weight, I say, “Should we go inside and get to work?”

He nods. “Yeah. Let’s do that. Follow me.”

At this moment, I’d be happy to follow him anywhere.

Guest Post

How My Grad School  Experience Influenced The Side Project

When The Side Project opens, it’s Rylee’s first day of her graduate creative writing program. She’s frustrated to still be in Bemidji, rather than at USC with her on-again/off-again boyfriend Jack, who’s a darling in literary fiction circles. She hides the truth from him, that she writes and self-publishes romance novels. Because that’s just not something you admit to people who are serious about writing literary fiction.

Like Rylee, I had already self-published several novels when I began my MFA program. Also like Rylee, I didn’t share that information with my classmates. I wasn’t actively keeping it a secret, but part of me was nervous that they’d judge me for it.

So, Rylee becomes torn between seeking validation and following her own path. One of the stories she writes for class is something I came up with while in grad school. And it just might be my favorite thing I ever wrote.

The story is called “You and Jane.” It’s written in second person, as if the reader is a modern-day, parallel universe Charlotte Bronte. She and her husband are receiving genetic counseling because she’s pregnant, and Charlotte (who everyone refers to as Jane, as in Jane Eyre), must reveal her family’s incredible history. The whole thing grows more and more absurd. I was inspired by David Barthelme’s “The School,” an absurdist short story that I read for another grad school class.

Anyway, when I shared the story with the rest of the class, some people loved it. Others did not. It wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I liked to think it was a nice hybrid of literary and genre fiction. Accessible and funny, yet unique.

And, I got it published! You can read  “You and Jane” here, in Abandon Literary Journal.

Let me tell you, getting short fiction published in a reputable literary journal is almost as difficult as finding a publisher for your novel. I’d sent out “You and Jane” to a lot of places, and received a couple of really nice, personal rejections. Months later, when I finally received the acceptance from Abandon, I squeaked with joy. My son was in the room, and he thought I’d received bad news!

By that time, I was already done with my graduate program. The same was true for when I found a publisher for The Side Project. But it was really fun, incorporating “You and Jane” into my novel. Like I could let go of my need for validation.

Spoiler alert: by the end of The Side Project, Rylee also releases that need, but she does it in a much grander way than I ever did.

The best part? Letting your protagonist learn from your experiences is an awesome experience in itself!