Dear Ms. Gref:
Dee Diller writes lists, mostly about her unsatisfactory fourth grade life. When her mom accidentally flashes the entire class at Parent PE Day, Dee’s humiliated. She figures this is the worst thing that could happen to her. Unfortunately for Dee, school gets worse. Way, way worse. A popularity book lands on her desk and Dee is shocked. People don’t think she’s Funny, or Pretty, or Athletic. Nope, Dee Diller is the Messiest kid at school. There’s an excellent chance Dee won’t ever overcome this awful title. She turns to her secret lists, hoping they’ll save her from a fate of social ruin.
THE DEE LIST is complete at 20,000 words and will appeal to fans of Lauren Child’s CLARICE BEAN series. I’m a member of SCBWI and a Most Promising Middle Grade SCBWI Award Winner.
I understand you’re looking for all genres of MG fiction and while I was reading your well-written blog, sky lavender and cornerless, I discovered you’re a list maker. With this in mind, I thought you might connect with Dee. Thank you for your time and consideration.
My very best,
THE DEE LIST
Facts about my Name
I’m named after my great aunt who I never met and she’s dead now.
That’s really bad luck.
One of the nicknames for my name is Desi.
I do not let people call me Desi.
Desi sounds like someone who likes to drink pickle juice.
My middle name ends with the word man.
Which is weird because I’m a girl.
Desdemona Hillman Diller.
Most people call me Dee.
As if being born with the name Desdemona wasn’t horrible enough, my school had to go and create something called Parent PE Day. God help me. If my mom shows up, school will go from bad to one hundred percent unbearable. She’s the worst athlete I’ve ever seen. When she moves quickly her toes point in towards each other and she flaps her arms all over the place like a bird.
“Sweetheart!” Mom shouts across the field. "Sweetheart, it's me!"
It's as if she knew I was just thinking about her, except I'm sure she thinks I want her to come, the exact opposite of the truth. I sink my head towards my lap. When I look back up, Mom stands next to Mr. B.
“Hahahahaha,” she laughs.
“Hahahahaha,” he responds.
“Mom,” I interrupt the giggling, on purpose.
“Darling!” Mom says. “Your teacher was just telling me we’re going to be tied together for some sort of race. What fun for us!”
I’d love to dig a hole and hide myself inside it.