... A favor of you guys? Camp NaNoWriMo is coming up fast—in fact, it’s coming up close in three days! I have a general novel idea in mind with a character I’m really excited to write about, but I want to know what you guys think of her.
Meet Cornelia Beatrice Harvard, or “Bee”, for short.
10th grader, though ninth grade by age, a thirteen-year-old in appearance, and a farm girl by blood.
On the shell, she’s analytical, opinionated, judgmental, and antisocial.
On the inside, however, she’s awkward, eccentric, and particularly ordinary—in the ways that matter.
I know, you all want to read a snippet about her from my novel, right? I don’t normally reply to the comments on my writing page, but I do end up granting requests, which, in this case, is posting more writing! So, without further ado, I’ll present you… Bee!
I am a child of the bees.
Ever since I was young, family friends always greet me with a pinch of the check and praise how the blood of the true countryside runs through my veins. After all, why wouldn’t I? My parents are the land, in flesh and blood.
My complexion says otherwise. During the rare occasions I stride into town, there would always be that one person who will question if I am a native to these fields. Compared to Mother’s, my hair is an unbalanced proportion of golden and sandy. Freckles, which I spent my elementary school years to erase with an eraser, sprinkle my fair complexion. My eyes were a rusty hazel.
No, I am not a bright southern farm girl that people expect. I am simply the girl in the background, the one who almost blends into the brown of faded photographs. I doubt that anyone from the high school in town knows how I am.
So, where do the bees necessarily come in? Primarily, I think the life purposes of bees and people are the same. Both strive to work hard and attempt to make their lives sweet. The farm business a hard industry to be in, and you have to work hard to survive.
One thing that sets people apart is that there are some who have life easy. No matter what the task is or how hard it is, they come out as survivors. Heroes. Role models. Some force from up above—whether it’s nature, the world, God—must make it easy for them.
Currently, my parents are survivors. To commemorate and remember their success, they named me Cornelia Beatrice Harvard, or “Bee” for short. I am a product to the sweetness of their success.
Yet, the winds have decided for this course to change.
So, what do you think? Please leave a comment and tell me!