The 'Bee' and Me - Mom from Florida Makes Broadway Debut! by Diane Fredel-Weis

Recently, my husband, son and I took a vacation to New York City.

In spite of a terrible heat wave, that of course only lasted while we were in town, we had a fabulous time. We did the typical tourist stuff. We went to MoMA, took the Shark boat ride at South Street Seaport that splashes by the Statue of Liberty, rode our bikes around Central Park (well actually, my husband and son rode bikes while I sat on a bench, in the shade, sipping lemonade) and we saw a Broadway show.

We got tickets to the Tony award-winning musical, "The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee." I had heard terrific things about this show where adult actors portray nine, eccentric, grade school spelling bee finalists.

I also had a special interest in the subject matter.

As a writer, I considered myself an above average speller, who feels like a big cheater when using "spell-check."

I actually caught the spelling bug or it caught me in elementary school. My friends thought I was strange to look forward to the annual spelling competition that they avoided by staying home with fake bellyaches. But my enthusiasm could not overcome my spelling shortcomings for I never got beyond the written part of the test. I never achieved a place on stage, in the auditorium, with a number pinned to my chest.

Over the years though, I challenged myself to become a better speller.

When my husband, son and I walked into the lobby of the Circle in the Square Theatre, home of "Putnam County Spelling Bee," a woman hugging a clipboard approached us.

She fired a round of questions at us and diligently wrote down our responses. Or doodled. It was hard to tell.

She asked if any of us considered ourselves good spellers. In perfect harmony, my husband and 9-year-old son pointed their fingers at me.

Then she followed up by asking what type of work I did. As I answered, "writer," my husband blurted out "homemaker!" I corrected him and repeated, "writer." Then added that, "I am a stay at home mom that writes."

After she finished smirking, she explained that four audience members are selected to be in each performance as finalists in the spelling bee along with the cast and would I consider participating in that evening's show?

You know, it's fun to speculate and dream about doing exciting things like hang-gliding, bungee jumping or being in a Broadway show, but when the opportunity actually presents itself, it's more like a feeling of intense nausea.

Not wanting to disappoint my son, I replied a half-hearted, "I guess so."

The clipboard-carrying woman pointed to a man who would "continue the selection process" with an interview. "Continue the selection process?" I thought to myself. "This was for a part in a play, right? Not for a seat on the Supreme Court."

As we walked across the lobby, my husband lamented that they were not going to select a writer to be in the show. He was sure my occupation was the kiss of death.

A man in an official, periwinkle "Spelling Bee" t-shirt interviewed me while a crowd of at least 30 waited their turn. He asked why I wanted to be in the show. Even though I was still on the fence, I told him it would be good inspiration for my 9 year old who liked spelling as much as spinach which he hated.

Ten minutes later, the man in the periwinkle shirt explained to the crowd that they had made their selection of two men and two women and he hoped that those who were not chosen wouldn't hate him.

Then he called the first name.

It was mine!

I was stunned. I was scared. I looked at my husband in disbelief.

Before I had time to freak out or pee in my pants, I was being ushered into a tiny, dark booth with the three other "finalists."

The man in the periwinkle tee was flanked by four other behind-the-scenes show people who looked serious and seemed to be assessing us for something sinister.

We were told that we had been selected because we were good spellers. Well, we said we were good spellers. It was further disclosed to us that the show works better with participants who can spell.

"Ha! Homemaker," I thought to myself.

Then our periwinkle-shirted prep guide rattled off instructions.

"When you get to the microphone ask for the definition of the word and for it to be used in a sentence. Don't try to act and don't make any jokes. Take cues from the actors."

I sat there listening so hard I thought my ears would bleed. I didn't want to make a fool of myself, ruin the show or most importantly, embarrass my 9 year old.

The show. I was going to be in the show! A Broadway show!

Gulp. I was both thrilled and terrified.

The directions were done and we all walked to our seats.

I sat down next to my son. He was so excited. His mom in a Broadway show, or so I thought until he flopped a bag of M& M's in front of my face and said, "Look what dad got me!"

I stuck my hand in my bag for my compact but couldn't find it. "Oh no!" I fretted. I had taken it out when changing purses. I quickly turned to my son and asked him to check my teeth for anything green. He told me I looked fine. I said to him, "Fine?" "Fine?!" This is not the time to tell me I look fine. This is the time to tell your mother she looks prettier than Angelina Jolie!"

I put on some lipstick, fluffed my hair with my hands and starting doing deep breathing exercises.

I thought about what I was wearing. A long, black circle skirt, black camisole and black cropped jean jacket with black maryjanes. Perhaps a little severe for a spelling contest.

Within minutes of the start of the show, my name was called.

I stood up, walked across the aisle (only stepping on a dozen or so feet), down the stairs and onto the stage.

Immediately, a blonde actress grabbed my hand and guided me to sit next to her on the first row of a three tiered bleacher, which was just one of the three set pieces on stage that also included a microphone and judge's table.

There I was, sitting between William Barfee, (Tony winner, Dan Fogler) the character who has a magic foot that helps him spell and Logianne Schwartzandgrubenierre, (Sarah Saltzberg) an overachiever whose last name is a fusion of her two gay dads'.

Suddenly, the music began and I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to my left to see the tonsils of Logianne, as she sang an inch in front of my face. I wondered, "What should I do? Act surprised?" although it wouldn't be an act. "Just look at her with no expression or focus on why her tongue was so red?"

After the song in my face ended, Vice Principal Doug Panch, one of the judges, called my name. And just like the real actors who were accompanied to the microphone by very funny and clever anecdotes about their characters, so was I.

"Here comes Diane Weis. She is dressed all in black because she considers herself "the Spelling Ninja."

The audience laughed and so did I. I then realized those extra people in the booth were writers accessing us for material. My black outfit turned out to be great fodder for them.

I looked out at the audience. Whoa! There were a lot of people. At least a million hundred billion, as my son would say. And they were all looking at me.

Surprisingly, I wasn't nervous. I actually felt pretty calm except for a slight fear that the audience could see through my skirt. Then I got an overwhelming urge to belt out "What I Did For Love" from "A Chorus Line." Only two things stopped me. I don't know the words and I can't sing.

I composed myself and waited for my word. "indigent." As directed, I asked for the definition and for the word to be used in a sentence.

I spelled the word correctly, the audience applauded and I walked back to my place onstage and sat down.

It suddenly hit me that I was in the middle of something truly extraordinary. I was one of a privileged few who got to personally interact with this amazingly, talented group of Broadway actors. I was HERE watching them THIS close. It was almost too much to comprehend.

Just as I was basking in my awareness of this once in a lifetime opportunity, a new song began and two cast members lifted me by my arms to cue me to get up. "Cue" might be an understatement. "Yank my shoulders out of their sockets" would be more accurate.

They took my hands and engaged me in a sort of chorus line dance, kicking and skipping from one side of the stage to the other. I was a bit overwhelmed (my husband later described it as a look of horror) which probably added to the entertainment value as well as the ticket price of $100.

During our time in the booth, dancing was never mentioned. Nor was jumping up and down or taking a wild ride on a high-speed revolving bleacher. It felt at times like I was a participant in "Survivor: The Broadway Show."

After awhile, my name was called again and when I got to the microphone, received a word I had never heard. You could say I was spellbound.

"Come again?" I wanted to ask. But simply requested the definition, which was "a fermented drink from mare's milk." I then asked for the word to be used in a sentence but it was no help.

Another instruction they had emphasized was not to take too much time figuring out how to spell the words. But I wanted to spell this word correctly. I really did. I looked back at the judges and so wanted to request word origin, any other pronunciations?

I knew how to spell other difficult words. Words like affidavit, bologna, Dalmatian (from my days as a writer for Disney), and Squidward. Why couldn't they have given me one of those?

But then I had to get real. I had to tell myself, "This is not a real spelling bee. This is a Broadway show."

Furthermore, they probably gave me this ridiculous word to get me off stage.

It worked. I could not spell "Koumiss."

I did try though. I combined cumin and hummus and ended up spelling "C-u-m-m-i-s."

The Judge's bell rang and the Comfort Counselor immediately appeared to give me a warm hug and a cold juice box.

Enthusiastic applause from the audience helped to ease the crush of being "voted off the island" as I returned to my seat.

I had been on stage for at least 45 minutes and now looked forward to watching the rest of the show like a normal show goer. But I couldn't. I kept thinking about "Koumiss." K-O-U-M-I-S-S. And wished I had the knowledge to have spelled it correctly.

It didn't help that my son in all seriousness asked, "Mom, why didn't you spell that word right?"

When the show ended, we walked back to the lobby. On the way, dozens of people came up to me congratulating "the Spelling Ninja." I wasn't a celebrity but felt like one for about five minutes.

Still in a daze with fermented mare's milk on my mind, I left the theatre without getting a picture of myself with the cast, which I regret.

But I have this amazing, extraordinary memory which at times seems more like a dream, of being a finalist in a spelling bee and guest-starring in a hit Broadway show.

Diane Fredel-Weis is the screenwriter of the comedy, "Inconceivable," on Lifetime Television. Her new script, "Single With Parents" is in development.