Thursday, July 8: Femme Fatale
THE SALAD DAYS
by Deborah Elliott-Upton
We’re going to a backyard barbecue tonight and I’m asked to bring potato salad. The first time I remember taking it for a crowd was at a beach party by the seawall of the North China Sea on Okinawa. All the soldiers were young in both years and rank. Mostly we were newlyweds, but a couple of guys brought dates. We were homesick and most of us spending our first 4th of July away from home. Independence Day required a barbecue or picnic to most of us. Burgers sizzled on a hibachi while we feasted on sangria and stories of home.
I inherited a huge Pyrex bowl from another soldier’s wife when they returned stateside. With a ten pound bag of potatoes and a few other not-so-secret ingredients, I managed to fill the green bowl to the rim with potato salad. That evening, there wasn’t a bit to be scraped from that bowl. I sincerely believe someone may have swiped his fingers along the inside, then licked the dregs of potato salad from his fingertips.
I was a hit, but from that time on, whenever we got together, I wasn’t allowed to bring anything but potato salad. I had been as typecast as George Reeves after he became TV’s Superman and couldn’t secure an acting job as any other character. Did the soldiers believe I didn’t have another good recipe or were they simply unwilling to allow me the chance to try because they adored my potato salad. Although I loved making that salad, I grew tired of it being what was expected of me.
I enjoy writing mysteries almost more than anything, but when asked at a recent writer’s conference what I write, I said, “As a mystery writer, I seem to sell a lot of nonfiction these days.”
I’ve sold to writer’s magazines and writer’s newsletters, essays to writer’s calendars and book reviews to magazines and newspapers. There have been a few columns for Criminal Brief, too. The truth is, I just like to write. Nonfiction seems to fill the need to express myself, too.
Successful authors advise writers to focus on one market, but that reminds me of the potato salad. I’ve perfected that particular recipe and while I will surely want to make it again, can’t I try a new recipe here and there?
Several of my friends write poetry and I admit to dabbling. It isn’t going to win me a spot as a Poet Laureate, but it makes me happy to stray from the beaten path occasionally and write something just for fun.
Not all writing has to be published to keep the Muse satisfied.
Many authors who write in more than one genre use a pseudonym when writing in another. Lemony Snicket wanted to hide his identity. S.E. Hinton wanted to use a name without clear gender for her stories. When Doris Meredith began writing mysteries, she chose to write as D. R. Meredith, perhaps because more men were being published at that time in her choice of genre. Ellery Queen was a pen name chosen by two other pen names, Frederic Dannay (nom de plume of Daniel Nathan) and Manfred Lee (Nathan’s cousin Manford Lepofsky). They also used the name Barnaby Ross to write four non-Ellery Queen novels.
Could I choose another name for my work that is not mystery? Would that soothe those wanting me not to stray from one genre? Maybe I could be known as the Potato Salad Queen – if it’s not already taken.
You lost me at salad.
Actually I know exactly what you mean. As you well know my writing mostly falls in one of two categories … romantic women’s fiction or debaucherous comedies about men behaving badly.
Not sure the audience for one will appreciate the other.
I’m having trouble picturing you as George Reeves, Deb. I didn’t know that the Ellery Queen pseudonym disguised other pseudonyms. Reminds me of Ed McBain, which was a pseudonym for Evan Hunter, who was born, if memory serves Salvador Lombino.
Travis– it isn’t really salad, you know. It is mostly potatao and so fits into your meat and potato menu realm. Rob — maybe it’s just because you haven’t seen me in my Wonder Woman’s cape yet.
It was Salvatore, not Salvador—Italian, Mr. Lopresti, not Spanish—and he legally changed his name to Evan Hunter before he became a famous author, although the name was originally one of his many pseudonyms.
Dennis Lynds, Gayle’s late husband, was another writer who used a whole stable of pseudonyms, the most famous of which was Michael Collins. Ross Macdonald was really Kenneth Millar. He changed his byline because his wife Margaret Millar, also an MWA Grand Master, had earlier success than he and he didn’t want to ride on her coattails.
I use my middle name in my byline so people won’t think I’m Forrest Ackerman’s publisher, although a lot of people still ask.
Wonder Woman had a cape?
I’ve seen you in your Wonder Woman cape….Velma BEWARE!!!!!
I use my real name no matter what. Or initials. A. Dollar.
People comment on how “wealthy” I must be. HA!
I tell them I have a dollar to my name….it is borrowed and I ain’t givin’ it back!
That potato salad looks yummy.
I live in the shadow of … The Shadow!
(Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of man?
The Shadow do!)
Pseudonyms are fascinating. Around the time the EQ team were bringing out ghost-written paperback originals, which undoubtedly hurt their reputation while helping their bank accounts, some paperback historicals appeared under the Barnaby Ross name. At the time, I thought the use of the name was just a coincidence, but sure enough, I later learned, the Ross books, also ghosted, were licensed by the cousins. My favorite double fakeout pseudonym is M.D. Lake, who wrote paperback mysteries about a campus cop named Peggy O’Neill. As you point out, many women writers were using a pair of initials instead of a feminine forename, P.D. James being the most famous example. Thus, with a female protagonist and a indeterminate byline, the author had to be a woman, right?Not so fast. Lake was the pen name of a man, Allen Simpson (not the former senator).
Congrats on the potato salad. I’ve eaten a lot of uninspiring potato salad.