Val Dumond

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Articles on Writing, Grammar, and Publishing
by Val Dumond

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Val writes articles on grammar, the art and science of writing, and publishing, for budding writers and seasoned authors alike. These articles are not only informative and educational, they're entertaining - written as only Val can. Enjoy this latest of her articles:

Queedo's Special Day
by Val Dumond
©Copyright 2012 - Val Dumond

Queedo sat up in bed. "My special day," she whispered, spreading out the words. With one hop, she leaped onto the floor and hastily put on the special clothes she had laid out the night before for her special day.

"No, it's not my birthday," she told her teddy bear. "It's s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g day!" She slipped into her shoes and headed for the k-i-t-c-h-e-n.

"Morning, Mama," she sang out.

"Umph! Cereal's on the table." Queedo's mother had worked late the night before and was grumpy, as usual.

"My special day," the child told her mother, sitting down and reaching for the cereal box. "It's the s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g b-e-e today, Mama. Today's the day I become champion speller of Miss Harald's fifth grade."

"Umph. I wouldn't count on it. You could be disappointed."

"Nope! I'm the best speller and today everyone will know it. I'll be f-a-m-o-u-s."

"Just talk, Queedo. You don't have to spell things for me."

"I know. I just love to spell. I l-o-v-e to spell e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g."

"Okay, enough. Eat your cereal. The bus'll be here soon."

Queedo spooned the flakes into her mouth, secretly spelling b-r-a-n, f-l-a-k-e, r-a-i-s... e... no, o-n, and a-l-m... o-n-d.

Her mother stuffed a banana into her daughter's lunch box and turned around. "Why are you wearing that sweater? It's too small for you. Why don't you... "

"Mama, this is my lucky sweater. I wear it to all the spelling bees."

"Never mind. You have four minutes to brush your teeth and run for the bus. Get going."

Queedo ran up to the bus just as it was about to pull away. Her friend, Amy, had got the driver to wait by distracting his attention with childish patter.

"You made it! Whew, I was running out of things to say," Amy told Queedo as they walked toward two empty side-by-side seats.

"Thanks. But I don't care. I could probably fly to school today..."

"Oh yeah, the spelling bee."

"Uh-huh. T-o-d-a-y is the d-a-y. And I'm going to w-i-n!"

"I don't like spelling. But I'm happy for you. I know you'll win. You're the best speller in the whole wide world."

Amy and Queedo had become friends almost from the beginning. Both girls came from homes with a single mom. While Amy had a little brother, Queedo was an only child. Still, they shared the loneliness of being the only daughter in a family without a father. They needed each other to talk to and talk they did. About their dads, their sadness, and those other things that young girls don't talk about with their mothers.

As the bus pulled into the school yard, the girls exchanged their secret good luck signs and raced... "Walk, don't run!" ...walked to their classrooms. For the two years they had known each other, they still couldn't talk anyone into placing them in the same classroom.

Queedo smiled demurely at Miss Harald as the pupils took their seats. She pulled out her textbook and notepaper and looked around for her pencil. After roll and the Pledge of Allegiance, the students worked quietly on the day's first assignment. Queedo wiggled restlessly in her seat, anxious to get through the first half of the day, ready and waiting for the spelling bee in the afternoon.

Somehow, she made it. The clock showed 1:15 as the class returned from recess and noisily shuffled to their desks. Queedo sat down, straightened her back, folded her hands, and waited.

"Today, class, is the final spelling bee," Miss Harald announced importantly. The winner of today's bee - the last one standing - will continue on to the district competition and, maybe, to the state." She then named the five contestants, who eagerly took their places at the front of the room.

Well, no need to drag this out. After sixteen rounds of words that became increasingly difficult, Queedo found herself one of the two remaining spellers. Her opponent, that scruffy Michael Kramden (where did he learn to spell like this?), took the first word. For a moment, he paused, rubbed his head, shifted his feet, and began, "s-p-e-s... no, ch-a-... oh, can I start over?"

"Of course, Michael. Take a deep breath."

"S-p-e-c... uh," he paused, then "a-i-l," he finished quickly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Michael. All right, Queedo, it's up to you."

"Thank you, Miss Harald. "S-p-e-c-i-a-l," she rattled off the letters.

At first a hush fell over the class. Then, after a stern nod from the teacher, the fifth graders erupted into applause and whistles and "Yeah Queedo", over and over.

Queedo absorbed it all. She smiled quietly, but her insides were brimming over with tingles and jingles and that warm feeling of pride. I did it! I did it! her brain repeated over and over. Now her mother would be proud of her and maybe tell her father about his bright and beautiful daughter and he'll come... Where did beautiful come in? I feel beautiful. Winning feels beautiful.

As the cheering died down and Miss Harald ceremoniously shook hands with Queedo and Michael, the Special Speller turned to the boy and reached out. "I couldn't have chosen a better a-d-v-e-r-s-a-r-y," she spelled.

"Thanks. We'll do this again next year and maybe I'll be the c-h-a-m-p-i-o-n." He smiled weakly and the two returned to their seats.

On the bus ride home, Amy heard the good news and asked, "How does it feel to be a champion speller?"

"Oh, Amy, I'm so happy. Maybe spelling is the only thing I do well, but, gee whiz, I love doing it. What made this day so special was the word I won with: s-p-e-c-i-a-l. A glorious, wonderful, catastrific Special Day."

For more fun with choices and opportunities to ask your questions, check into my blog: The Anarchist's Guide to Grammar.

Val has two soon-to-be-published books: The Anarchist's Guide to Grammar and The Creative Instinct. Meanwhile, check her new books on Kindle:

Ahlam's Stories - Stories of life in Iraq as you haven’t seen it. —Love, marriage, children, work and play, pleasures and tragedies, hope and … life— as told through the eyes of a woman who dearly wants the West to know the real Iraq and its people the way it was before…

Elements of Inclusive Language - How to write without excluding others

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