8 Pieces of Advice for Weaving Your Heritage Into a Novel

I’m a Jewish kid from New Jersey, and I will probably tell you that within minutes of meeting me. Or maybe you’ll just guess; I really wear it on my sleeve. But also, I’ve got stories to share.

(3 Things I Learned While Writing My Novel)

How my grandpa voted to acquit actor Jerry Stiller when he was impeached from the board of the BBR (Boys Brotherhood Republic—a way of keeping those Lower East Side boys from getting into trouble) for gambling, or that Bugsy Siegel made a play for my great-grandma (they lived in the same neighborhood), or how it’s rumored my grandma’s aunt kept a little black book for Murder, Inc. Once my grandma escaped to Chinatown for lunch on Yom Kippur (the shanda!)

The point is, my Jewish heritage, as secular and Seinfeld as it can be, runs through my veins and bleeds into my books because this is treasure to exploit. I’m pretty sure my grandfather would agree.

We all come from somewhere. We all have cultural gems, so mine those suckers for your work. I guarantee there is a reader like you who will beam at the representation.

Here are some ways to do that.

Listen, I hail from a diaspora. My secular Judaism is a far cry from that of my cousins who grew up in El Paso, Texas. Half of my high school English class went to the same synagogue. The only Jewish kids my cousins knew were probably the ones who went to their temple. And because there was such a small Jewish community in El Paso, they tended to be a bit more insular than we were in Jersey with a bagel shop on every corner.

Also, my great-aunt was from Mexico City and made her egg salad with avocado. It’s not feasible that I write from their multi-cultural perspective, so do not feel you need to represent your community, heritage, and culture from all angles. Weave in a background that is authentic to you. Not everyone will relate, and that’s OK.

In my opinion, not enough characters eat on the page. Show your protagonist chowing down on some good home cooking. Let’s go back to that egg salad with avocado, shall we? I was blown away when my aunt prepared that for me on a bagel (not a Jersey bagel, but it sufficed). She was also surprised that I didn’t like noodle kugel. My brother doesn’t eat latkes. (How Jewish does this paragraph sound, and all I’ve done is mention some food?)

You want to flesh out your characters and their world? Make them argue over a bolognese. Have them say macaroni instead of pasta. Man, I’m hungry just typing this.

There’s no way I could write an entire novel about a Jewish family and leave out the Yiddish. Also, why would I want to? It’s so fun.

In my novel, Death of a Dancing Queen, my protagonist’s grandfather refers to the neighborhood busybody as the yenta (because that’s what yenta means). Billie, despite being 24 years old, will bust out the occasional “oy vey” at the necessary times. When I turned 40, my dad called me an alte kaker (which I had to look up); he basically said I was an old man. Thanks, Dad! See? Fun.

Sprinkle in words, phrases, and expressions that reflect your heritage, and don’t worry about readers. They can use good old-fashioned context clues to figure out meaning.

Bookshop | Amazon
[WD uses affiliate links.]

I am a sucker for grandparents in stories. Death of a Dancing Queen is not the first book I have penned that has included grandparents. For me, age brings wisdom and astute observations.

Billie’s grandfather was a private investigator. If anyone has the right to tell her what to do it, it’s him. He has the benefit of experience. Plus, it may sound like a stereotype, but the older we get, the less we care about what people think—which leads to less filtering.

This could go a multitude of ways, leading to more humor, more cringe, or more conflict. None of that is a bad thing regarding storytelling. So, include Grandma and her tales of the Iron Curtain or your great-uncle who swore he met Elvis in a gas station—just include them.

My husband comes from a large Italian-American family. A birthday party isn’t a small affair with a few neighborhood kids. There are numerous aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, second cousins once removed … you get the idea.

In fact, I would wager my in-laws could never imagine an “intimate gathering” if their lives depended on it. And you know what? All the better for a good, albeit loud, time. My husband was lucky enough to grow up within a five-mile radius of the majority of his family. You’d think I’m kidding, but I am not. If you grew up that way too, sweep it into the manuscript.

Give your protagonist a best buddy cousin who turns out to be pretty damn good at solving crimes. Or an aunt who’s such a gossip, it turns out to be crucial in the third act. Or a stepsibling who helps your main character bury a body. You get the idea. Don’t fear big casts; there is room for everyone.

Sometimes a holiday gets in the way of the plot, so I have to check the calendar. For example, say I want to set my novel in March, but Passover is early that year. Passover is kind of a big deal, not to mention even the most lax of us do something to commemorate it.

It might be a bit of an inconvenience if my main character is trying to solve a murder while also preparing for a seder. But also, how cool would it be to set a locked-room mystery during a seder?! *jots that down.*

Anyway, if a holiday becomes an issue, I’ll switch the timeline to another week. But if I want to sprinkle in some conflict, a holiday meal is the perfect place to do it. Or lack of a meal if it’s Yom Kippur and my character is observant. Imagine tracking a suspect when you’re fasting.

Because I write mysteries, death is naturally part of the plot. That said, how one’s family honors the dead can make for excellent storytelling.

In my young adult novel, School Lies, my protagonist Levi attends the unveiling for his father, a man he has very complicated feelings about. In Jewish culture, an unveiling is when the family gathers to unveil the headstone. This can take place three to six months after the funeral. Also, we bury our dead within 24 hours. So, if a Jewish person dies in my novel, the funeral service (typically graveside) is held quickly after. We sit shiva and do our mourning in the home with everyone gathered around for comfort as opposed to a Catholic wake.

In Death of a Dancing Queen, Billie attends a wake and struggles to hide her discomfort. This is not a judgement on her part, but rather an adjustment she must make because it is so far outside her cultural lens.

You know those stories I mentioned in the introduction? So, help me, I will someday weave my great-great-aunt’s shady connection to Murder, Inc. into a novel. It’s too good to leave untouched. And that nugget about Jerry Stiller? That’s my icebreaker if I ever meet Ben Stiller in person.

We all have stories passed down to us, so use them. After all, the best way to honor our background is to bring it into the foreground of our manuscripts.

By the way, I asked my grandpa why he didn’t vote to kick Jerry Stiller off the board of the BBR for gambling, and he said, “Because I gambled too.” Sidney Kasner was no hypocrite.

Click to continue.