You will not write about the beekeeper, but if you do you will study bees obsessively, you will learn all the rules of the trade. You will know that Apis mellifera is the scientific name of the honey bee typically found in America. You will learn how the queen gets fertilized, how bees get sick and die. You will know that American foulbrood is deadly while European foulbrood is not, and that the names have nothing to do with geography. Then you will study tools that a beekeeper uses. You will live inside his brain. You’ll be prepared to use the decoy hive and anchor stray swarms when the time comes. You will not mention these things anywhere in your fiction, but if you don’t know the facts your writing will be lighthearted and it will not convince anyone.

You had good hands for masonry when you were young. An old master told you that a stone should be observed from its invisible side before it’s laid down. You turned stones in your hands for a long time looking for that invisible side. When you put them down they fit perfectly. You will not mention that you read this on page twenty seven of a book written by Mirko Kovač, the writer you admired. Although you know now that it was only a metaphor, that’s how you want to write, always observing things from their invisible side.

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