Thursday. The regular old run-of-the-mill. Or should I say, run-of-the-hive.
So began my first published short story ever.
It was 2009 and I don't even remember how it felt to see my words in print but I do remember being very excited about it. For some context, I was a freshman in high school and wrote stories and articles for fun. Being a writer was something I had and have aspired to since I figured out how to string letters together.
Apparently I had tucked that issue of the Ontario Bee Journal magazine in between art class sketches and forgot about it. As I unpacked all my stuff in our very first home last week, the magazine slid out from between a messy stack of papers I was organizing. I read through the piece, cringing and chuckling.
The story is about my beekeeper dad coming home from a rough morning working on the bees. The grammar surprised me. I always thought I was a better writer then I actually was back then [insert smirk emoji]. I was amazed that it was published a) in the first place and b) like that.
I can hear my parent's input and edits in the story, their voices in the dialogue and can see my siblings scrambling around as bees fell from my dad's clothes.
Complete with all the grammatical and technical oddities that made it past the editors pen, you can see the whole article in the photo below. I am itching to edit it but this is how it appeared in the magazine 10 years ago in all its amateur glory. Enjoy!
PS: Honeybees are not the aggressive, chase-you-around-in-an-angry-cloud type of creature shown in my old article and Winnie the Pooh cartoons. They sting to protect their hive and only if absolutely necessary. Usually they are gentle, pleasant insects to work with!
PPS: The photo embedded in the article is not my dad or his bees.