The Real People Behind My Characters

(Day 26 of 30 – story crumbs from the world of Loveandpizza.it 🍕)

Here’s a confession: almost nobody in Loveandpizza.it is entirely made up. They’re just never entirely real either. 🫣😅 Every secondary character in this book is a blend, two or three real people folded into one, which means if any of them ever read it, they’d struggle to point at a single character and say with certainty: “Hey, that’s me!” That was always the plan.

A Name Borrowed, Not a Person

Carolina’s own name came from one of my lovely students, a woman I used to love teaching, who also happened to be the mother of a boy called Fabrizio, and who also happens to make the best tiramisu I’ve ever eaten! 😋 I borrowed her name for my heroine, and I borrowed her son’s name for one of the men in the story, and neither of them has anything else in common with the characters wearing their names now. It’s one of those small, private jokes only I know the punchline to. Every time I write “Carolina” or “Fabrizio,” I think of a mother and son who probably have absolutely no idea I find their names so beautiful that I “borrowed” them for this book at all. Oh, and before I forget, another one of the characters, also Carolina’s students, borrowed the name of a third member of the same family, an adorable little girl, but I changed it a little bit and gave the name to a boy in the story. 

The Kindest Blend

Some of the gentlest people in the novel are the easiest to trace back, even if I’d never actually say who to their faces. Carolina’s confidante, the one who always seems to know exactly what she needs before she’s asked for it, was built from two of the kindest women I’ve ever known. One used to wait for me on cold, rainy winter days with a hot chocolate ready, no explanation needed, and cooks me a delicious lunch every time I visit Napoli (I love her whole family so much!). The other always welcomed me to her house with a big smile and lovely chats, and still, every time I visit, we meet for a hot chocolate. She and her son (my former student) are also very special to me. I gave Carolina that same small act of care and friendship I got from them, because it had meant so much to me that I couldn’t imagine leaving it out of a book about kindness in a foreign city.

Carolina also has a little bit of two sisters I taught while I lived in Napoli. Spirited, with a good answer for everything, brave, inquisitive, fun, adventurous and kind.

Stories I Didn’t Have to Invent

A few of my favourite moments in this book aren’t invented at all. There’s a five-year-old in one scene with a rather memorable habit involving glue and snot, and I promise you I didn’t dream that up. One of my actual students did exactly that, in exactly that way, and I simply couldn’t resist giving it to a character. There’s another moment, a teenager arriving to a lesson dressed in considerably less than the situation called for, that happened to a colleague of mine rather than to me, but the story made me laugh so hard when I heard it that it demanded a place in the novel too.

Why I Always Blend, Never Copy

None of this happened by accident. Every real person who found their way into this book, in pieces, was chosen carefully, either because I loved being around them, or because, in one or two cases, I very much didn’t. 😒 But I never let one person become one character wholesale. It was always a mixture, a mannerism from one person, a turn of phrase from another, a single real moment stitched onto an otherwise invented life. That way, even the people who inspired parts of this book couldn’t point to a page and say, with any real certainty, that’s me.

The only two who know for sure are the two I told outright. My own sister, the true inspiration behind Carolina, has known from the very beginning. And the real woman behind Carolina’s closest friend knows too, because I asked her permission properly before I ever put pen to paper.

I won’t pretend there wasn’t a small worry sitting underneath all of this, that someone might read a scene, half recognise themselves, and feel exposed rather than flattered. But mostly, I think, people are moved to find a piece of themselves treated with care inside a story, even a piece they didn’t know they’d handed over.

If there’s one thing I’d love you to take from today’s post, it’s this: every slightly odd landlord, every warm friend with hot chocolate waiting, every fast-talking, quick-witted boss with a heart of gold you’ve ever had, could genuinely exist inside a story like this one. Because in a way, they already have.

Your turn: has a writer, or even just a good storyteller in your own life, ever borrowed a piece of you without you fully realising it? 👇

Dani. x

New to the Loveandpizza.it world? Start here: https://danielapescuma.com/category/loveandpizza-it/ 

P.S. Loveandpizza.it is coming back in English, Italian and Portuguese. Save your slice and you’ll be first to know the moment your edition’s ready. 🍕