Who's That Girl?

So this was my photographer yesterday. She works with a totally cool camera and film--not digital. She had lights from the 1940s . . . very fun. And in the sad turn of events of my life, turns out I DID need someone to dress me and she arrived with bags and BAGS of clothes, jewelry, and shoes. And she was pregnant and I gave her my favorite maternity outfit. And my makeup artist probably had 500 makeup brushes (of which Oldest Daughter and I were envious), palettes and palettes of colors and so on. And I am trying to set her up with one of my best guy friends, so if she's reading this . . . I'm telling you, he is VERY cute.

So here was the thing . . . when all was said and done, and my photographer gave me some Polaroid test shots (the real pictures are off to the magazine), I look part-Asian--distinctly so. The makeup artist had been saying that . . . and my hair was done in a straightened "China doll" style, which is how it's cut right now. And it was so funny to me, because I saw my heritage on my face. My father's mother always looked Asian--a diminutive Russian, she had the cheekbones and facial shape of, what I presume, was genes from Mongolia, from ancestors way past. People always used to say she looked like the Soviet Georgians from the old Dannon yogurt commercials (remember those?). And then mixed with that is my Slovakian side, high cheekbones, strong noses. Because the photos were so crisp, so artistic, not like family photos, I saw not ME, but . . . me going back into my lineage.

Which was cool.

And of course it got me thinking about writing, and how often I bring into it the flavor of family and bits of who I am. The Russian father in The Roofer. And the women? My heroines, they are often unmistakable in their appearance--Italian, Irish, Russian. Georgia Ray--who did regret her hair but was cool with her curviness--was bi-racial. There is some, I guess, when I write, some sense of clan, of coming from somewhere--some family that defines you. I don't have brown-haired, brown-eyed heroines and leave it at that. The thread of identity is woven through.

In my latest wip, the hero-boy is Russian. His nickname is Koyla, and the clan defines him. It's thematically, despite being a fantasy trilogy, about an American boy pulled into the embrace of the people he didn't know he had. Of finally finding a sense of belonging. That theme is resonating with each page I write during Mary's challenge.

My kids are funny . . . they very much identify themselves as Mexican, or Mexican-American. They are VERY proud of that. And my family, they know is Polish and Russian. But the three older ones also thought my dad was African American. I am talking that my OLDEST daughter thought I was half black until she was 12. It never occurred to her that my father WASN'T black. My next two kids were the same. They mistook his dark Russian appearance for being of African origin. And because I insist they identify people as "flesh-colored," it never dawned on them for a second that we weren't part black--this despite two of them are blue-eyed and one turned out looking Irish. Which I guess says as much about how prejudice is born of parents . . . because they never learned to see race the way some people do.

So, anyway, is heritage part of your characters? And is it your heritage? Or do you research other cultures? And what traits do you think it imbues your characters with?