tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-721915580300807122024-02-19T04:20:40.830-05:00Donna Russo Morin<center>It is the function of the history book writer to tell us what happened;<br> it is the goal of the historical novelist to tell us how it felt. <br>
Here is the history behind 'her' stories.<br>
For more visit my website <a href="http://donnarussomorin.com/">www.donnarussomorin.com</a>
Purchase here <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=donna+russo+morin&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Adonna+russo+morin/">Donna Russo Morin Books</a></center>Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.comBlogger136125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-32844369961882120692020-06-16T12:01:00.001-04:002020-06-16T12:01:58.624-04:00GILDED DREAMS: The Journey to Suffrage Launch Event<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/YZmMmqZ11SA" width="480"></iframe>Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-17043254827856940182019-10-18T14:11:00.001-04:002019-11-14T12:56:49.432-05:00VENTURE DOWN THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED AND INTO A MAGICAL PLACE....IRELAND WRITER TOURS!<br />
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If you want one-on-one time with dynamite professionals
while experiencing the beguiling splendor of Ireland, read further to find out
more.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><span style="color: #990000;">CRAFTING IRRESISTIBLE PAGE-TURNERS:</span></b><b><span style="color: #990000;">HOW TO WRITE A NOVEL THAT FLIES OFF THE SHELVES</span></b><b><span style="color: #990000;">12-19 JULY 2020</span></b></h3>
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Before this conference and tour week begins, you will be
invited to submit a number of manuscript pages for the author/editor and agent
to review. Each will edit your pages ahead of time and, during the conference,
offer advice in one-on-one sessions. They’ll also offer group classes, lead
activities and discussions, and teach necessary marketing skills. You'll have
opportunities to brainstorm, network with professionals, and meet potential beta
and critique partners. A unique feature of this conference is the individual
attention, which ensures that the week is flexible enough to engage and
challenge writers of all levels—from the novice to the advanced, published
author.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Writers' Conference with Tours of Counties Galway, Mayo
& Clare<o:p></o:p></div>
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with<o:p></o:p></div>
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Multi-published, international bestselling author, Writers'
Digest University instructor, and twenty-year profession author consultant and
editor (and the first day of the conference is her birthday...let's celebrate together!)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>DONNA RUSSO MORIN</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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In addition to being a successful, internationally published
author of eight multi-award-winning novels, Donna has also been a professional
editor and story consultant for the past twenty-five years. Her work spans more
than 40 manuscripts. She is also a writing instructor for Writer’s Digest
University and teaches writing courses at her state’s most prestigious adult
learning center. Donna has presented and conducted workshops at national and
academic conferences for nearly twenty years, including the Historical Novel
Society Conference, Writer’s Digest Annual Conference, Hollihock Writers’
Conference, and many more.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Donna’s personal writing successes include GILDED SUMMERS,
an International Amazon Bestseller. Its sequel, GILDED DREAMS, will release in
June of 2020.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her other titles include
PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY: Da Vinci’s Disciples Book One (a finalist in Foreword
Reviews BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR, hailed by Barnes and Noble as one of ‘5 novels
that get Leonardo da Vinci Right’), and THE COMPETITION: Da Vinci’s Disciples
Book Two (EDITOR’S CHOICE, Historical Novel Society Review),<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>THE FLAMES OF FLORENCE: Da Vinci’s Disciples
Book Three, The King’s Agent, recipient of a starred review in Publishers
Weekly, The Courtier of Versailles, The Secret of the Glass, and To Serve a
King. She has also authored, BIRTH: ONCE UPON A TIME BOOK ONE, a medieval
fantasy and the first in a trilogy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Find out more about Donna at <a href="http://www.donnarussomorin.com/" target="_blank">Official Website of International Bestselling Author Donna Russo Morin</a> on Facebook at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AuthorDonnaRussoMorin/" target="_blank">Author Donna Russo Morin</a>; Instagram <a href="https://www.instagram.com/donnarm.telleroftales/" target="_blank">Donna Russo Morin Teller of Tales</a>; Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/DonnaRussoMorin" target="_blank">Author Donna Russo Morin</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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and <o:p></o:p></div>
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successful agent with Marsal Lyon Literary,<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>PATRICIA NELSON</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Patricia Nelson has been a literary agent with Marsal Lyon
Literary Agency since 2014, representing all genres of young adult and middle-grade fiction, as well as women's fiction and romance. Her clients include
award-winning and bestselling authors, and recent sales include books placed
with Penguin Random House, HarperCollins, St. Martin's Press, and Simon &
Schuster, among others. She holds master's degrees from the University of Texas
at Austin and the University of Southern California and has previously taught
literature and writing at the college level. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Find out more about Patricia and her clients at<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="https://www.marsallyonliteraryagency.com/the-agents/patricia-nelson/" target="_blank">Marsal Lyon Agent, Patricia </a>Nelson and on Twitter @patricianels.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>ABOUT THE CONFERENCE </b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Successful author, Donna Russo Morin, and successful agent,
Patricia Nelson, have more than just success in common. Not only have they
gotten many books published, but they’ve also both taught and mentored a multitude of
writers who are enjoying their own successes. While Donna’s award-winning
novels are historical fiction, she’s coached and edited in multiple genres.
Patricia represents clients writing YA, MG, as well as Adult historical
fiction, upmarket commercial, women’s fiction, and plot-driven literary. From
Writers’ Digest classes to genre-specific mega-conferences, to smaller learning
facilities, these ladies have shared their expertise on how to create fiction
that flies off the shelves.<o:p></o:p></div>
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During the conference week, Donna and Patricia will teach a
variety of important aspects of the craft, like formulating a compelling
premise, and how to keep readers turning pages. As a multi-published author,
Donna will share tips on how to stay productive, keeping both your publisher and your readers, happy. Patricia can share tips about current trends in
publishing, and what it takes to snare an agent’s attention.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If you want to learn the secrets of literary success, join
us for this conference and tour in the beautiful west of Ireland. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>TOUR ITINERARY: </b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Your conference and tour base will be a tiny village in the
west of Ireland. This tranquil setting is home to quite a few artists,
musicians and writers because of its inspiring atmosphere. The peace and
dramatic beauty of the area can have a profound effect on your writing. At the
same time, you'll be touring throughout the western half of the country to the
varied sights listed below. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Sunday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Our Tour begins at 2:00pm with a shuttle pick up in Galway
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Participants are whisked away to the hotel where they can
freshen up before -<o:p></o:p></div>
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A tour of a 14th Century Abbey, the best-preserved ruin of
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Evening - Back to your hotel for a brief rest before the
welcoming banquet and a talk from our featured guest teachers.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Monday </b><o:p></o:p></div>
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A tour of –<o:p></o:p></div>
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---12th Century Castle <o:p></o:p></div>
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--Ancient Stone Circle <o:p></o:p></div>
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--Stop for lunch in a Quaint Old Village with loads of history
and legend, followed by:<o:p></o:p></div>
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--Opening workshop with Donna and Patricia <o:p></o:p></div>
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On the tour trail again to - <o:p></o:p></div>
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--A 7th Century Abbey <o:p></o:p></div>
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--The largest lake in the Republic of Ireland <o:p></o:p></div>
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--A hike through a faerie forest to a cave with eerie true
stories <o:p></o:p></div>
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--Dinner at your leisure in the village<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Tuesday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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A full day of writers conference, exercises, and individual
editing, with a break for lunch<o:p></o:p></div>
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Drinks with an agent while you pitch your story<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Wednesday </b><o:p></o:p></div>
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A tour of -<o:p></o:p></div>
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--The tallest round tower in existence, circa 7th century<o:p></o:p></div>
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--Beautiful bay with picturesque sailboats and currachs <o:p></o:p></div>
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--A castle featured in so many photos, you’re sure to
recognize it! <o:p></o:p></div>
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--The Burren<o:p></o:p></div>
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--The most famous dolmen in Ireland, a burial site of ancient
king <o:p></o:p></div>
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--Charming seaside town with excellent homemade Irish fudge<o:p></o:p></div>
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--Cliffs of Moher – possibly the most photographed and
breath-taking scenery in Ireland <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Thursday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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A full day of writers conference, exercises, and editing,
and workshopping your manuscript, with a break for lunch<o:p></o:p></div>
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--Visit to the 16th-century castle home of a pirate queen<o:p></o:p></div>
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--Dinner in Galway and a pub crawl<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Friday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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The day begins with a ferry ride to Inis Mór, the largest
Aran Island off the coast of Galway. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Once there, you may choose a bike or van tour of the island,
including Dún Aengus, the prehistoric ring fort perched on cliffs high above
the ocean, an ancient holy well, a seal colony, and, of course, the famous Aran
handknit sweaters (available on the island at a greatly reduced price).<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Saturday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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--A half-day of writers conference, exercises, and editing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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--Lunch<o:p></o:p></div>
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--A tour into the heart of Connemara, including yet another
castle.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Sunday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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We say our good-byes and the shuttle returns you to Galway
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<b>*This tour involves walking and possibly a bit of low
climbing </b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This conference/tour
will be limited to twelve to fifteen participants to ensure individual
attention, and will be tailored to the needs of the writers who enroll.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>DON'T MISS YOUR CHANCE FOR THIS ONCE-IN-A-LIFETIME EXPERIENCE</b></div>
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<b>CONTACT: <a href="http://www.irelandwritertours.com/p/july-2017-tour.html?m=1" target="_blank">Ireland Writer Tours</a></b></div>
<br />Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-31539995480554252232019-02-14T13:36:00.000-05:002019-02-14T13:36:47.002-05:00FANTASY…FROM AN AWARD-WINNING HISTORICAL NOVELIST? UM, WHAT?<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s a good question, one deserving a bit of skepticism. If you’ll allow me to share a couple of points of interest, I may just turn your incredulity into excited acceptance.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMu86HwNahHHSTcydX7RRaP2aa5R3Xt8gS_3sMmBEAH5ZZ5mSOQIkGCgFo5dYcDYBSfdRA4x5iDR9ZVJ4HK73JlHr4tFzQiupJ4-Ullk2et_keaoAKJUk0LBxe4ESREGSWs9fbX5AT_7vN/s1600/Birth-Main-File+%2528427x640%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="427" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMu86HwNahHHSTcydX7RRaP2aa5R3Xt8gS_3sMmBEAH5ZZ5mSOQIkGCgFo5dYcDYBSfdRA4x5iDR9ZVJ4HK73JlHr4tFzQiupJ4-Ullk2et_keaoAKJUk0LBxe4ESREGSWs9fbX5AT_7vN/s200/Birth-Main-File+%2528427x640%2529.jpg" width="133" /></a><br /><b><i>BIRTH: Once, Upon a New Time Book One</i> </b>is, in fact, the very first novel I ever wrote…twenty-eight years ago while carrying my first child. Back then, it was all one book rather than a trilogy, and it was over eight hundred pages long. I had been (and always will be) a great lover of fantasy, the pure escapism that comes with magical lands and strange creatures, a certified devotee of all things Tolkien and Lewis.<o:p></o:p></div>
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However, back then fantasy wasn’t nearly as popular as it is today and I wasn’t nearly the writer I am today. I pitched it about to agents and received polite, instructive rejections. My first son was born, then my second, and I started reading <i>Outlander </i>by Diana Gabaldon. I could see the writing on the wall well enough; it was a time when historical fiction was much more popular. And it suited my writer’s ‘voice.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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I set about learning the craft of crafting historical fiction. The research, the eras that ignited passion in me…a must to put that passion into my words. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimMKZZ9Kecevn0wSc-scmX1vwN2fQTYoAFcQCh4IOOyFnnWoCIP8i1JFPsNGpYd-NO4-A2jJbJQRS32EJtxGTUgBbO4SPgwu0jz02LNMhPFs1p2tc-bMIQ3ER5NoAxYxSQPodMHvZ8mIfa/s1600/Kings+3+d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1356" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimMKZZ9Kecevn0wSc-scmX1vwN2fQTYoAFcQCh4IOOyFnnWoCIP8i1JFPsNGpYd-NO4-A2jJbJQRS32EJtxGTUgBbO4SPgwu0jz02LNMhPFs1p2tc-bMIQ3ER5NoAxYxSQPodMHvZ8mIfa/s200/Kings+3+d.jpg" width="169" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwHdTRgLpEThNrohHZIHFlMKG2n8a2SY6m7YnpwOTt5zCgkTY9_UMTIg9RTfO1-vImGlUXrlSyVUnHtdED9xsC259WJzxyHzdxcWinMRHOu939K4-O1izvpzUheLhaOo3s1ObGIMhk9aNT/s1600/Gilded-Summers-Promo-Paperback.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1064" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwHdTRgLpEThNrohHZIHFlMKG2n8a2SY6m7YnpwOTt5zCgkTY9_UMTIg9RTfO1-vImGlUXrlSyVUnHtdED9xsC259WJzxyHzdxcWinMRHOu939K4-O1izvpzUheLhaOo3s1ObGIMhk9aNT/s200/Gilded-Summers-Promo-Paperback.png" width="132" /></a></div>
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<br />I landed an agent with my first historical novel, and it was off to the races. My eight novels have garnered many awards, have been translated into five different languages, been well received by critics (one, <b><i>The King’s Agent</i>,</b> which has paranormal aspects, received a starred review in Publishers Weekly), and my latest release, <i><b>GILDED SUMMERS</b></i>, an Amazon #1 Bestseller, has sold over 100,000 copies worldwide.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But I never forgot my first love or my first book. And what I had learned through the years of writing historical fiction and the intense research required to craft good historical fiction—the rebuilding of worlds of the past—showed me how t<span style="text-align: center;">o world-build far better than when I wrote the original fantasy book.</span></div>
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I became the ‘research.’ I studied mythological creatures, I filled notebook after notebook of every detail—even the most minute—of what my ‘world’ would be. I ‘created’ the source material required, as it is in historical fiction, to rewrite my fantasy novel. And during all those years, interest in historical fiction has waned while the popularity of fantasy has grown.<o:p></o:p></div>
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With this acquired knowledge and world-building acumen, the book became longer and longer in an age when publishers want smaller and smaller books (oh, technology and the demise of attention spans). I broke that enormous book into three parts, connecting them with an over-arching theme, and pitched. The publisher of <i><b>GILDED SUMMERS</b></i> loved it and acquired it. The <i><b>Once, Upon a New Time</b> </i>trilogy, is my rebirth into the realm of fantasy.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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The moral of my tale is this…fantasy and historical fiction are not as different as it would appear on the surface, and one should never, ever forget their first love. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-46295620478721822802018-10-11T14:52:00.000-04:002018-10-11T14:52:57.870-04:00MY 'NEW' 'OLD' BOOK THE COURTIER'S SECRET IS NOW THE COURTIER OF VERSAILLES! FIND OUT WHY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxi_E5421NMsuQt9xOiIHm7urw07HLkuk6zaZOrvz9bNsCL5GRCtCaSeX7QPTlHF6mUntgFK4vFXAsLV4rbfw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
So thrilled by this wonderful opportunity. Listen to why in my own words!Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-58502247003518772052018-01-09T16:08:00.000-05:002018-01-09T16:18:56.934-05:00WOULD YOU READ THIS BOOK? READ WHAT SOME OF THE TOP EDITORS AT THE TOP PUBLISHING HOUSES HAVE TO SAY ABOUT ITNot to be too mysterious, but for the real surprise, read all the way to the end!<br />
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FROM KNOPF/DOUBLEDAY:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGOmPZHbR1oqIaCvbnSmrRbYioJBykRbaM-BmY-vdUhNvGqKXdC9BdaD_XFVfxWLf1agrKN1yEfQluvfRaSK0iQxpuxrXZsNS2sN_8jfEbDo0oApk5ipVk4z51va6fa9mayTI0ESh11khP/s1600/logo-knopf1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGOmPZHbR1oqIaCvbnSmrRbYioJBykRbaM-BmY-vdUhNvGqKXdC9BdaD_XFVfxWLf1agrKN1yEfQluvfRaSK0iQxpuxrXZsNS2sN_8jfEbDo0oApk5ipVk4z51va6fa9mayTI0ESh11khP/s1600/logo-knopf1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="127" data-original-width="153" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGOmPZHbR1oqIaCvbnSmrRbYioJBykRbaM-BmY-vdUhNvGqKXdC9BdaD_XFVfxWLf1agrKN1yEfQluvfRaSK0iQxpuxrXZsNS2sN_8jfEbDo0oApk5ipVk4z51va6fa9mayTI0ESh11khP/s200/logo-knopf1.png" width="200" /></a>It’s wonderfully atmospheric—I really got a sense of Newport, the glamour and the social striving, but also the class tensions and prejudices that exist. Ms. Russo is a lovely writer, with a real feel for her characters, especially Pearl and Ginevra. The question of why (cut for spoilers) immediately intrigued me. I enjoyed watching how their friendship evolved on even as it pushed up and against social norms of the time... There’s a lot to like here.</div>
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FROM HARPER COLLINS:<br />
Russo is a skilled writer and her characters are accessible and likable; I was really worried for Ginevra, so the ending was very satisfying.The story surprised me. I think this has potential to be a commercial title—especially considering the recent appeal of Downtown Abbey and the like.<br />
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FROM THOMAS DUNNE/MACMILLIAN<br />
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I absolutely loved the setting, and the author did a great job of evoking the mannerisms of the time and place.<br />
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FROM SKYHORSE<br />
I really fell in love with this: the stunning setting of Newport in the Gilded Age, inside looks into both the wealthy and their servants (neither fully happy), feminism, and the power of female friendship, and even a dash of romance. Pearl and Ginevra are strong, engaging protagonists, both as individuals and a pair. They are such fascinating characters ina fascination place and time...this world of the Vanderbilts and the Astors, of emerging feminism and the pull between independence and the expected notions of romance and family.<br />
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Intrigued? Ready for the surprise...these are all rejection letters. Yes, you read that correctly...rejections!<br />
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But I refused to hear no and I finally heard YES!<br />
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GILDED SUMMERS will be released in early summer 2018 by Creativia.<br />
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<span style="background-color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "new york" , "times" , serif; font-size: 16px;">GILDED SUMMERS is an upmarket women’s novel with elements of domestic suspense/murder mystery, set in Newport’s Gilded Age.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "new york" , "times" , serif; font-size: 16px;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Two girls, Pearl and Ginevra, grow up in the singular moment known as the Gilded Age in Newport, Rhode Island—one lives above the stairs, the other below. </span>These two young women must decide who they want to be in this world, and survive what it takes to get there…even if it includes murder.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f6b26b; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Surrounded by Astors and Vanderbilts, Pearl fills her days with teatime and shallow friendships, yearning for something more. A chance meeting with Mary Cassatt sparks in her a secret desire to be an artist, a “new” woman. Meanwhile Ginevra, fresh off the boat from Italy, finds her own dreams out of reach as she joins the unwelcoming household as a servant and seamstress.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f6b26b; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Kindred souls, the girls become fast friends but must keep their friendship hidden from Pearl’s controlling and social-climbing mother. Each summer, they meet in a hidden spot beneath the weeping beeches to talk of art and life, their struggles to break the barriers of their lives, and to draw inspiration from the writings of Lucy Stone. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f6b26b; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">But before long, the realities of adulthood begin closing in on them. Accepting a “suitable” marriage proposal, Pearl tries her best to fit into her new role, while Ginevra begins to harbor feelings of jealousy and resentment. The two young women must decide who they want to be in this world, and survive what it takes to get there…even if it includes murder.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f6b26b; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Going behind the façade of this glittering era, <em>Gilded Summers</em> is a gripping, richly detailed story of friendship, prejudice, and life-altering choices. The novel will appeal to fans of <em>Downton Abbey</em> and <em>The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood</em>. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f6b26b; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">As a born, raised, and still happy resident of Rhode Island, so many of my greatest moments took place on the island of Newport, and they still are...my son recently married there. This book has been a dream of mine and I can't wait for this glorious place, these enigmatic people, and this intriguing tale to at last go out into the world.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f6b26b; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Stay posted for more release information.</span></div>
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Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-88310390113569676612017-07-28T12:25:00.001-04:002017-07-28T12:25:28.049-04:00Writing Fun | Ep. 109 : The Competition with Donna Russo Morin<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/pN1RiKJ9EgU" width="480"></iframe><br /><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It was such an honor to be interviewed by </span><a class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=704537995&extragetparams=%7B%22fref%22%3A%22mentions%22%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/mmdunton?fref=mentions" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;">Michelle Marie Dunton</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> of Writing Fun. She asked some great questions which reveals a lot about the inspiration of my Da Vinci's Disciples trilogy, the truth of where the characters came from, and some hints about where they're headed. (And now everyone gets to see that yes, my children are correct, I am a cartoon).</span>Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-1721656991564401982017-06-13T11:46:00.000-04:002017-06-13T11:46:01.686-04:00SPEND YOUR SUMMER IN FLORENCE! EXCERPT AND INCREDIBLE SPECIAL PRICING OFFER<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;">So thrilled to share this incredible offer!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">EXCERPT FROM THE COMPETITION: DA VINCI'S DISCIPLES BOOK TWO</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 24.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">THE COMPETITION:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 24.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Da Vinci’s Disciples Book Two<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 24.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">By Donna Russo Morin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All rights reserved<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 24.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">C</span><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">hapter </span><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 24.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">O</span><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ne<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Inspiration, when it comes, comes on its own terms.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Specks of sand in a windstorm, eddying about, seemingly chaotic yet cohesive, unified within the calm, unseen core.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">They stood apart in the vast crowd and yet together, a feat they had managed to accomplish ever since those fateful days. None could see them and know them as a group; society would frown upon it. Few of their number—in truth, but one—cared little for the caprices of society. Their truth had already rendered it specious. But if their truth were known—the deepest, darkest depths of it—they would all be dead, a brutal death at the end of the hangman’s noose.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The boisterous throng swirled around them, ignorant to the revolutionaries they stood beside. With the crowd whirled the music, the voices, the change in the wind. Some of the women wore jewels and ermine trim, others simple muslin. Only in their smocks were their ranks and wealth negated. They stood united by what they had done, by all they created, and all they hoped yet to create. Such brazenness, such daring, such criminal activity bound them in a way little else could. They were—now and forever—united as Da Vinci’s Disciples.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Isn’t it breathtaking, dearest?” Natasia twittered to her husband, Pagolo, squeezing his arm with a plump hand in her zeal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tall and stick-like to Natasia’s round fleshiness, Pagolo Capponi shielded his slim, dark eyes from the midday sun as they watched the grand procession pass before them. “Yes dearest, splendid.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Viviana tucked her chin down, hiding her motherly grin; so much had changed, and yet some things never would. Natasia may be married now, as she had so craved to be, but her girlish giggles had not abandoned her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Viviana stood beside the couple and they beside Fiammetta and Patrizio, the Conte and Contessa Maffei, she with her face a blasé mask, he with bright spots of happiness on his round cheeks. Beside them stood Lapaccia Cavalcanti, simply attired as always, an ash walking stick in her hand. The widowed noblewoman held the arm of another elderly woman, a noble as well, down to her luxurious trappings. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">On Viviana’s other side stood Isabetta and Mattea, both in their finest—if simplest—muslin, both with the kiss of the sun emerging on their pale cheeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Viviana was the middle ground between the <i>ottimati</i> and <i>popolo</i> of their group, the elite and the common citizens. She was a widow herself, that of a disgraced lesser elite, disgraced by his own hands, deceased by hers and those of the women near to her. She was as in limbo in life as she was between these women, not exactly knowing her place, not exactly knowing where life would next take her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“About time things returned to normal,” Fiammetta grumbled. Viviana wholeheartedly agreed with her, which did not happen often.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Thanks to <i>Il Magnifico</i>.” Viviana felt gladness for him, and all of Florence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Lorenzo de’ Medici was not the man he had once been. The change came the day they murdered his brother in the great cathedral. It came when Lorenzo learned the murder was a conspiracy, with gnarled fingers that reached all the way to the Vatican. All goodness and light within him had been extinguished when he had avenged Giuliano’s murder in a massacre of near to one hundred men. He ruled darkly in the wars that followed, and in the years that followed those wars. What with the pope’s decree of excommunication upon <i>Il Magnifico</i> and all of Florence, the wars, and the plague, Florence and its citizens had suffered dearly in the intervening years. Lorenzo’s grief and anger had hovered over the city like an ominous black cloud. Today, at long last, he had allowed a celebration to take place. And what a spectacle it was. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> This <i>Festa di San Giovanni</i>, a celebration of John the Baptist, was unlike any the city had seen before. Under <i>Il Magnifico’s</i> rule, as every facet of life had become, it blazed with both pageantry and eminence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Florence dons her golden gown once more,” Isabetta said. “Would you look at that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">One had no choice. Fifteen wagons drawn by fifty pairs of oxen filled the street, their clomping the air, the cheering of the crowd the ears. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The women leaned away from the heat of the many girandole, their wheels of fire in the shapes of ships and houses, their fires crackling, popping, and spattering the crowd with sparks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Zigzagging their way through the wagons and platforms, the <i>spiritegli</i> hovered over all, their legs strapped to poles so tall they seemed to walk on air. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> A banner upon the lead wagon identified the <i>edifizi</i> upon the lead wagon: Lucius Aemilius Paulus. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“It is his vanity,” Fiammetta said once more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“It is his need to reassert himself,” Viviana argued with a whisper, not for her sake, but for Fiammetta’s; she had no wish for any to hear of her friend’s continued anti-Medicean attitude. There were those who shared Fiammetta’s feelings for the city’s ruler. Most hid behind a façade of Medici support, in dark corners and shadows, for their own purposes and pernicious agendas. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Lucius Aemilus Paulus was the Roman conqueror of Macedonia, from before the birth of Jesus Christ. His return to Rome, with overflowing bounty, had made him immortal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No doubt <i>Il Magnifico</i> wishes to make an identification,” Viviana raised her voice in concert with the rising roar of the crowd. “Lorenzo put much at risk to save our city, going to Naples, being held virtually hostage there for more than a year. His safe return, his success in saving Florence from further ravages of war—surely it is a bounty worth celebrating.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Humph,” was Fiammetta’s response. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Indeed, Florence is reborn,” Mattea agreed with Isabetta. “Already women are wearing their finest again, and palazzos are being built. Yes, Florence is reborn. But can it be as if nothing ever happened? Can it be as it was before?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Before</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">. The word had a strange effect. Did they really wish for it to be so? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Viviana studied each face, watched as her friends’ minds traveled back in time with her own. Lapaccia had never regained her health since the days and weeks she’d hidden in the convent. She had become what she had never been, no matter her age… an old, frail lady. Her son, Mattea’s lover, wandered, hiding, the small price he paid for the small part he played in the conspiracy to kill Guiliano de’ Medici and the attempt to kill Lorenzo. Mattea’s longing, her fear was ever there upon her face, in her eyes that did not sparkle as they once had, upon lips slow to curve.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Isabetta in her widow’s weeds, her husband whom she had loved and nursed for years now gone, though not so very long ago. A badge of guilt hung heavy on that woman’s neck. But not nearly as heavy as one did on Viviana’s, for Isabetta had not been the instrument of her husband’s death; that part belonged to Viviana and Viviana alone. Was it truly wrong? No, she had never thought so, not for a moment. What she feared more was that she had killed something within herself when she killed him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Fiammetta had slipped down the social ladder—an atrocity, in her mind, for staying on her perch was so very important to her. Her association with the Pazzi family—they who had led the assassination—had chipped away at her lofty standing. Watching her struggle to climb back up was like watching a child attempt to scale a mountain, a pitiable sight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Only Natasia—sweet, young Natasia—had come away unscathed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">They had even lost their mentor, if only temporarily. They’d lost Leonardo da Vinci to the Duke of Milan, or rather his uncle Ludovico, who acted as regent for his eight-year-old nephew. The wars Florence had endured had left no one to sponsor him, which da Vinci needed in order to become the maestro of the studio that he deserved to be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But something had happened, something glorious in the <i>before</i>. They had saved Lapaccia’s life, even Andreano’s, and they had created a masterpiece. It hung in the Palazzo della Signoria still, the towering building at their backs. It hung where the original masterpiece had hung and still no one knew the difference. The city and its keepers thought it a warning to all those who dare defy its leaders, most especially the Medicis, and so it remained upon its wall, an accusatory finger to be avoided. In truth, it was a living, breathing testament to the women’s growing prowess as artists. It didn’t matter that no one knew such beauty had come from their hands; at least that was what they told themselves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Viviana looked to the sky, to the small prison at the top of the tower where she herself had spent a night. No one knew she and these women, Da Vinci’s Disciples, had rendered the painting that hung in that tower. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">No, it didn’t matter. Or did it? The question had plagued Viviana more and more of late, as she searched for the same fiery purpose she had felt when helping to paint it. She now seemed to crave it, as the souse craved his wine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Like her city, Viviana carried the scars of those days, yet like Florence, she too was healing. She closed her eyes, raised her face to the sun, and let it warm her. She let gratitude consume her, let the crowd and the cheering and the song and the laughter fade away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I purchased that chapel in Santo Spirito three years ago.” The words spoken by the resonant, lofty voice of a man, somewhere close behind her, broke through her reverence and shattered it. “Now I shall finally be allowed to have it frescoed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Viviana’s eyes snapped open like a shutter in a gale. Through the haze, she saw the man who had spoken, knew his face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But more importantly, she saw it, the answer to what came next. </span></div>
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DON'T MISS THIS INCREDIBLE OFFER:</div>
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<a href="http://amzn.to/2q8c5ZV" target="_blank">Amazon</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/portrait-of-a-conspiracy-1" target="_blank">PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY ON KOBO</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-competition-19" target="_blank">THE COMPETITION ON KOBO</a></div>
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<a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Donna_Russo_Morin_Portrait_of_a_Conspiracy?id=EyKNCwAAQBAJ" target="_blank">PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY ON GOOGLE PLAY</a></div>
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<a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Donna_Russo_Morin_The_Competition?id=GTT7DQAAQBAJ" target="_blank">THE COMPETITION ON GOOGLE PLAY</a></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"></span>Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-47645718928996851632017-03-08T11:28:00.000-05:002017-03-08T11:28:53.531-05:00GOODREADS GIVEAWAY OFTHE COMPETITION!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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ENTER TO WIN ONE OF <u>TEN</u> COPIES OF</h2>
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THE COMPETITION: </h2>
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DA VINCI'S DISCIPLES BOOK TWO</h2>
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MARCH 8 - MARCH 16</h2>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/226477-the-competition" target="_blank">ENTER NOW!</a></h2>
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<br />Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-78564040880948785352017-01-26T12:24:00.001-05:002017-01-26T12:24:33.021-05:00SEE THE TRAILER...THE COMPETITION: Da Vinci's Disciples Book Two NOW AVAILABLE ON NETGALLEY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-22578946423988710202016-11-02T00:00:00.000-04:002016-11-03T11:06:04.417-04:00COVER REVEAL: THE COMPETITION: Da Vinci’s Disciples Book Two! And an INCREDIBLE Special Price on Book One!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">Ready (willing and eager) to see the cover of the much-anticipated second book in the Da Vinci’s Disciples trilogy? Well, you’d be better, because here it is (be sure to read all the way to the end of the post to discover an extra special bonus!).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But before we get to the gorgeous cover, here’s what the author has to say about the next book in this thrilling trilogy and its cover:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I knew I wanted the second book in this trilogy to be a little more personal, get into the lives of these courageous women, and da Vinci himself, a bit more deeply. Oh, they are still daring to go where women had never gone before in the Renaissance, and they put everything on the line for the love of their art—their marriages, their family relationships, even their lives—to do it, to bring their work out into the open, no matter the consequence. But in THE COMPETITION, I’ve pulled back more of the layers of their lives and the secrets they may hold. Desire love is brought to fruition, desire is ignited, disastrous illnesses change lives, and familial condemnations are shattered. All set amidst the glory that is Florence during the Renaissance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">These women are bold; there can be no doubt. But they are elegant women and this cover, like the first, captures that elegance to perfection. It is the seamless companion to the first, and they look dazzling together.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ready to see the cover? Not just yet. Here’s the official description first:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A commission to paint a fresco in the church of Santo Spirito is about to be announced and Florence’s countless artists each seek the fame and glory this lucrative job will provide. Viviana, a noblewoman freed from a terrible marriage, and now able to pursue her artistic passions, sees a potential life-altering opportunity for herself and her fellow artists. The women first speak to Lorenzo de’ Medici himself, and finally, they submit a bid for the right to paint it. And they win. The very public commission belongs to them.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But with the victory comes a powerful cost. The church will not stand for women painting, especially not in a house of worship. The city is not ready to consider women in positions of power, and in Florence, artists wield tremendous power. Even the women themselves are hesitant; the attention they will bring upon themselves will disrupt their families, and even put them in physical danger.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">All the while, Viviana grows closer to Sansone, her soldier lover, who is bringing to her a joy that she never knew with her deceased husband. And fellow-artist Isabetta has a flame reignited, sparked by Lorenzo himself. Power and passion collide in this sumptuous historical novel of shattering limitations, one brushstroke at a time.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Power and passion collide in this sumptuous historical novel of shattering limitations, one brushstroke at a time. <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">THE COMPETITION: Da Vinci’s Disciples Book Two goes on sale April 25, 2017. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Competition-Vincis-Disciples-Book-Two/dp/1682308065/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1476895685&sr=1-1&keywords=the+competition+donna+russo+morin" target="_blank">Pre-order a copy here</a></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32565575-the-competition" target="_blank">Add it to your Goodreads shelf here</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, are you ready to see the cover?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Really?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Are you sure?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Here it is!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Do you love it?! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: red;"><b><i>Haven’t read the first book yet? Now’s your chance at a special reduced price. For the next four days (beginning November 2 until November 9), the Kindle version of PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY IS ONLY $.99</i></b></span> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Portrait-Conspiracy-Vincis-Disciples-Book/dp/1682300609/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1476895844&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Order it here now!</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Read the first critically acclaimed book (a Top 20 Amazon Bestseller Italian Historicals), fall in love with these daring women, and get ready to fight beside them for the right to be who they truly want to be in THE COMPETITION. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Russo Morin’s elegant command of language and composition left me breathless, but the story itself, with its flawless depiction of power, corruption, defiance, intrigue, and retribution makes Portrait of a Conspiracy an absolute must read.” </span></i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Flashlight Commentary<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“...a page-turner unlike any historical novel, weaving passion, adventure, artistic rebirth, and consequences of ambition...a masterful writer at the peak of her craft.”—C. W. Gortner, author of THE CONFESSIONS OF CATHERINE DE’ MEDICI <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“This riveting book is filled with art, assassinations, retribution, and a sisterhood of fascinating women who inspire as well as entertain.”—Stephanie Dray, NYT Bestselling author of AMERICA’S FIRST DAUGHTER<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“In PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY, Russo Morin's prose is as sharp as a Medici dagger...Thwarting danger, finding love, and creating masterpieces, [these women] remind us just how powerful the bonds of womanhood can be.”—Marci Jefferson, author of THE ENCHANTRESS OF PARIS<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“A 15th-century Florence of exquisite art, sensual passion and sudden, remorseless violence comes vividly to life in Donna Russo Morin's new novel.”—Nancy Bilyeau, author of THE CROWN <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“In PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY, Russo Morin's rich detailing transports the reader to the heart of Renaissance Italy from the first page.”—Heather Webb, author of BECOMING JOSEPHINE <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Illicit plots, mysterious paintings, and a young Leonardo da Vinci all have their part to play in this delicious, heart-pounding tale.”—Kate Quinn, author of THE EMPRESS OF ROME SAGA <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-55272693433485464062016-08-04T10:02:00.001-04:002016-08-04T12:22:52.737-04:00PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY: DELETED SCENES. THEY'RE NOT JUST FOR MOVIES ANYMOREJust like movies, as a book goes through the editing phase, there are often great scenes that need to be cut for the good of the overall book. The first draft of PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY: Da Vinci's Disciples Book One came in at over 500 words. I feel in love with the true facts of the horrific assassination that opens the book. I wanted every facet of the gruesome event to be chronicled in my book. However, the political machinations between the great Medici family and their rivals, the Pazzis, are the main focus of the book. With a breaking heart, but an understanding mind, I took the advice of my great agent and editor, and paired down the multitude of details on the assassination.<br />
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That doesn't mean they are lost forever. Today I begin a series that will highlight those deleted scenes...just like a deluxe edition DVD.<br />
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If you haven't read the book yet, here's what you need to know:<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis8XhlopDkP-IyZj6ZcsrhrA59AxepCQ67rSs_UTLefhhejmuz-93UF6PNQZ85OgzKgzLLS2y4osfVtPOtdbWmXGRsvZGnA9nV9NIjflb_khFJY6mncDDhzf7U4GExQ9NHH41dWO9VHmdu/s1600/duomo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis8XhlopDkP-IyZj6ZcsrhrA59AxepCQ67rSs_UTLefhhejmuz-93UF6PNQZ85OgzKgzLLS2y4osfVtPOtdbWmXGRsvZGnA9nV9NIjflb_khFJY6mncDDhzf7U4GExQ9NHH41dWO9VHmdu/s320/duomo.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
In Florence on Ascension Sunday in the year 1482, the Pazzi family, with the help of mercenaries, priests, and possibly someone higher up in the Vatican hierarchy, plan the assassination of the powerful Medici brothers: Lorenzo de' Medici, the defacto ruler of Florence, and his peace loving brother, Giulino. The attempt takes place in the great Duomo of the largest cathedral in Florence,<i>Santa Maria del Fiore</i> (Saint Mary of the Flowers).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUmkitZaCQ1UVMHIPT_0YScTrmVqgMHS_8NLlWEkc0oev0JswmqFGrbw1DGf62IXO2oKK2EoTi9QGj6zFP5dvwqQD4ZZE_bUBoIQ8s9O86QQfaTu_q2jEZAe6e2PEX4CIk8XtqpjCaJ79h/s1600/pazzi+conspiracy+painting+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUmkitZaCQ1UVMHIPT_0YScTrmVqgMHS_8NLlWEkc0oev0JswmqFGrbw1DGf62IXO2oKK2EoTi9QGj6zFP5dvwqQD4ZZE_bUBoIQ8s9O86QQfaTu_q2jEZAe6e2PEX4CIk8XtqpjCaJ79h/s320/pazzi+conspiracy+painting+1.jpg" width="320" /></a>As the madmen draw their daggers, chaos and blood burst within the packed cathedral. Giuliano falls.Lorenzo escapes...but how? Here is the scene, firmly rooted in the actual history, that reveals it.<br />
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“Giuliano!”<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In the haze of half-life, Giuliano saw Lorenzo’s mouth form his name but could not hear the voice, the voice of his childhood, of his conscious, for the buzzing in his ears drowned all else out. He felt no pain, only gladness as he watched the attackers fail to assault his brother.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Their eyes met and, through them, all that ever lived between them—every moment, every word, all their love—was spoken for the last time.<br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsd36oLRljCmFasYwcelr3OOcEKceUr_2HPKDf8casrl8jOSeYNAKTuer9iF-Rd5YvkSV6AP_Td-tDlxkVBEzYImfSWa7_pjrWe0WUQYD_xZotqLxjQBWbVPybaVdc0Z3kbJlQTge0Jsw/s1600/pazzi+conspiracy+painting+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsd36oLRljCmFasYwcelr3OOcEKceUr_2HPKDf8casrl8jOSeYNAKTuer9iF-Rd5YvkSV6AP_Td-tDlxkVBEzYImfSWa7_pjrWe0WUQYD_xZotqLxjQBWbVPybaVdc0Z3kbJlQTge0Jsw/s200/pazzi+conspiracy+painting+2.jpg" width="143" /></a></span></div>
Giuliano’s bloodless lips spread as if in smile, as he watched his brother disappear from his sight, alive and safe, beyond the heavy bronze doors and into the sacristy. He turned his whole head, or did he—he could not tell—to the door, now closed where he last saw his brother. Now instead death appeared before him and he greeted it wide-eyed, beautiful mouth open in silent denial.<br />
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Nightmares exist in the wakeful moments of day</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Giuliano! My brother, my brother,” he shrieked with mania and anguish, not even the nasal twang enforced by the deformed nose could forsake the abject grief in his voice as Lorenzo pounded against the door, pulling and pushing against those who would keep him inside, keep him safe.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The battle raged within the cathedral still, but here friends fought against friend, Lorenzo against his protectors, as he quaked with vengeance to be released from their grip, to be freed from the small room where he was imprisoned away from his brother.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Leave me,” he screamed, veins popping out in blue ripples upon his reddened forehead. “Leave me be. I must get to my brother.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Golden chalices clanged raucously as they fell from the golden oak table once in the center of the rectangular room, now abruptly slammed against the back wall made of the same wood, the shimmering paneling encircling the entirety of the small space. Table legs screeched against the marble floor as the bevy of men fought to keep Il Magnifico from raising the barricade someone had quickly dropped into place upon their entrance, locking them safely within the sacristy’s confines. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“You cannot, My Lord. I cannot allow it.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Somehow the young Cavalcanti, a cousin branch to Lapaccia’s own, named for and devoted to the Medici Lorenzo, wedged his body between his namesake and the bronze door. But the older man abused the body as he had the bronze, barraging it with tight-fisted, blistering blows.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“But I must see to Giuliano. I saw him fall. Though he lives still, I know it.” Lorenzo’s dark eyes, protruding but sightless, bore into and through the young man’s face, seeing only the crumbling of his brother’s body over and over, losing sight of him again and again behind the legs of the crowd, tree trunks in a dense, demonic forest. The not knowing ate at him like famished vultures, teeth sharp and stabbing. “Or does he? Has he died? Do you know?”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The other men bundled in the small room peered at each other as if looking in a mirror. Gapping mouths, eyes wide yet unseeing, spatters of blood, it was all there in an indisputable portrait. But the fear now came from the great Lorenzo de’ Medici himself. Never had Il Magnifico behaved in such a way. His words, those of the most intelligent man they knew, made no sense. His hands moved in a frenzy; from his stomach, to his face, to pounding Cavalcanti’s chest, to reaching for the door as if he reached through it.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The young man shook his hair of oaken brown, now a tangled and stringy nest falling to his shoulders, his youth revealed in the quivering lip and tear-filled eyes. “Please, My Lord, please.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It was begging, no doubt, but for what was unclear; capitulation, perhaps, but of what sort.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Lorenzo, my friend.” The deep soothing voice came from behind the Medici, a voice now low and melodic, one Lorenzo had known since his memories began. He turned to the call as the bruised child would to its mother.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sigismondo della Stufa stood but a breath away, reaching out a hand, placing it upon his shoulder, and turning Lorenzo from the door and the spent Cavalcanti. Even taller than Il Magnifico himself, his was an imposing figure, to anyone. Lorenzo’s forehead creased as he raised his brows in silent, pathetic questioning.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“You cannot go out there, Lorenzo.” Sigismondo took Lorenzo by both shoulders, holding the shuddering man tightly with his eyes as well as if to still the tremors of both body and mind. “Those who long for your death may be waiting. They want your blood and nothing less.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The words were hooked arrow tips, wounding in as well as out. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“W…who?” Lorenzo stammered.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sigismondo shook his head of tight black curls. “The…the Pazzis, I know, but I cannot be sure which. Others with them.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“They would not. They could not,” Lorenzo protested, pushing the turban, long since twisted askance, off his head, thrashing it to the ground. “Not here, not so sacrilegious an attack. It cannot be.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But the stalwart Sigismondo did not move nor speak and the truth clung thickly to the silence.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Lorenzo dropped his head; the distemper once seizing him draining away, downward, like water expulsed from mountain rivers. It was then he saw it; the streak of thick blood, darkening as it dried, running from the beneath the door and past him, further into the small room. He followed it with eyes newly keen and his chest heaved and collapsed with the pain of the sight.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In the farthest corner, though but a few steps away, his friend and savior Francesco Nori laid in a pool of his own blood, hands gloved in his life’s liquid pressed uselessly against his open gullet.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A moan, a whimper, and a lunge; all compelled Lorenzo to his friend’s side, nudging— without thought—Antonio Ridolfi aside, he who had pulled Nori within.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Francesco. No, not our Francesco,” Lorenzo muttered, splotching his own hands with Nori’s blood as they touched the man’s wound, the man’s face. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The cold, wet contact roused the injured man, but barely.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Francesco’s blue eyes, ones so quick to glint with mischief, now the gray of a winter sky, fluttered open. The slits spread as if in smile at the face hovering above him. And, as if the sight were enough, the eyes closed…never to open again.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Lorenzo dropped his head back upon his shoulders, neck bent in half, convulsing; shoulders shuddering with silent sobs. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“What is this?” Beside them Ridolfo swiped at his own tears, rustled his damp fingers through his long ash brown hair, then took Lorenzo by the shoulder with one hand and pulled the cowl of the man’s robe away with the other.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There for all to see, a gash the width of a large dagger, bright with fresh bleeding, at the base of the neck, as if a line had been drawn upon Lorenzo’s collar bone.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sigismondo leapt to their side with two long strides, followed quickly by the shorter Loris Tornabuoni, Lorenzo’s cousin, he who had been keeping an ear to the door with Cavalcanti. Pulling Lorenzo’s tunic even farther aside, tearing it in the effort, Sigismondo saw, as did they all, the skin reddening in anger around the laceration.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Poison?” The venomous world slithered from between Antonio’s teeth.</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sigismondo silently nodded, jaw clenching beneath stubble-covered skin.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Still in a crouch, Antonio sidled once more to Lorenzo’s side, padded and pleated leather doublet creaking as he lowered his head toward the wound.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But Lorenzo came back from his grief at the movement, at the words. “I am fine. Be gone from me. I must get to Giuliano.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Be still, Lorenzo!” It was a bark, this time, from Sigismondo, no time or patience for coddling. “You could be dying. What help to your brother would you be then?”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Lorenzo took the slap but not without a dark stare. “You cannot tell me if he lives. Why should I care if I do?”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sigismondo rolled his eyes heavenward, but instead of returning to his stubborn friend, the suddenly curious gaze flit to the left wall, back up and then down. “Allow Antonio to extract the poison and I will endeavor to find out.” With his words, he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>All eyes followed and found what he had, a slim and slithering spiral staircase, of the same highly polished golden oak wood of the walls, standing against the partition anonymously.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“You go and then—” </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“No!” Sigismondo ended Lorenzo’s negotiation before it began. “I will go while or I will not go at all.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Eyes closing in defeat, Lorenzo leaned back against the wall, raising his chin, and opening his wounded neck to Antonio.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>With the honor breed among these men, Sigismondo rose and made his way to the steps. As he climbed, Antonio lowered his head, this time Lorenzo allowed the man’s lips to latch upon his skin. The sounds of Antonio’s sucking kept time to the beat of each step Sigismondo took upon the rails, loud in this small room fecund with the odorous of blood and excrement. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A few draws and Antonio pulled back his head, spitting the viscous liquid of blood and saliva away and over his shoulder. A few more steps and Sigismondo reached the apex of the spinning stairs, those which would bring him to the entrance of the organ loft above the cupola.</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sucking again, Antonio spit, this time the liquid he spat made a clear glob upon the floor. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Just once more,” he said, to himself as well as Lorenzo. Doing so, he withdrew and stepped away, mouth still full, and hunkered down in the opposite corner. Spitting, emptying his mouth, he stuck two fingers down his throat. Up came more liquid as his body heaved, parts of his morning repast spewed as well, an assurance no poison remained in either of them. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Spent, Antonio dropped back on the floor, curled his slim body up with his head on his knees.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Lorenzo de’ Medici, the great leader of the Florentine people, a despot some whispered in shadowed corners, crawled to Antonio’s side and wrapped his arms about his care giver. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Your valor and service this day will not be forgot,” he told the exhausted man. Turning to the others in the room, he assured them all, “Nor that of any of you.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Almost dropping Antonio, Lorenzo released his hold and jumped to his feet. Sigismondo was no longer in sight.</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“He must have crawled into the loft,” Cavalcanti said in a voice as crooked as his bent neck.</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In silent minutes untold, they waited. Lorenzo could not even fathom how long they had been sequestered. Was it just this morning he had been in his brother’s chamber, berating him like an irate father? Or was it a day ago? A year?</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>With far more noise than accompanied his exit, Sigismondo entered the high space of the sacristy, descending the slim stairs with as safe a swiftness as possible.</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Lorenzo stepped to the bottom to greet him. “My brother? Did you see my brother?” He yelled upward.</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sigismondo’s foot slipped on a slim step; body pin-wheeling, he caught himself quick, righting himself with a grunt. “I will tell all whence I am down there, or else I will fall to my death and be able to tell naught.”</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Chided, Lorenzo stepped away, but his dark eyes remained locked upon the back of his friend.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Jumping down the last two rungs, Sigismondo bent over, hands upon knees, as he drew deep gasps of air into his depleted lungs, or perhaps to forego the coming conversation.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It was clear what Lorenzo thought. He crouched below Sigismondo. “Tell me all.”</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Raising his head, giving it a shake, Sigismondo reached out and gently pushed Lorenzo so he sat on the floor. Slowly sitting before Lorenzo, burly body collapsing, Sigismondo’s story had already begun. Before he said a word, Antonio turned his face back to the corner; Loris slithered down the wall.</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“I will tell you this first,” Sigismondo took the hands of the man across from him, a man he served without question, a boy he had called friend for the whole of his life. “There are no enemies on the other side.” He ticked his square head toward the ten-paneled bronze aperture. “There is no one there but more of your friends, more of your loved ones. Your father, for one, Loris.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Loris sighed to hear of his father’s safe keeping.</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“They wait for you, Lorenzo. I could hear their worried chatter from above though they could not hear my calls. They—”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“My brother is dead, isn’t he, Sigi?” Lorenzo found only the pet name as he squeezed the man’s hands. “My brother is gone.”</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sigismondo bit upon his own upper lip, clamped upon it till a small dollop of blood came forth. He nodded then, a small, simple gesture screaming the blasphemy. With a squeeze of his lids and a clench upon Lorenzo’s hands, Sigismondo pulled the man into his embrace. It was all he could do.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There was no sound; the world had become a hollowed, empty place…until the scrape of the bar upon the door broke it. All save Lorenzo watched as Loris lifted the barricade and slowly opened the door. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The men beyond the door made to rush in, but one large, raised hand by Sigismondo held them, slowed them. Giovanni Tornobuoni, the poet Poliziano, a Medici cousin Martelli, and others checked their relief at the life of Lorenzo in the face of his grief at the death of Giuliano.</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sigismondo raised the bereaved man to his feet, and, wrapping him in a silent blanket of care and tenderness, the men closed around Lorenzo, leading him out of the sacristy and the cathedral itself, steering him far from the covered body of his brother where others stood sentinel.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The silence held almost to the door. Almost.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There, knowing he left forever his beloved brother behind, Lorenzo loosened a cry to smash against the dome ceiling far above, to berate the Gods even higher.<br />
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Learn more about PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY: Da Vinci's Disciples book one <a href="http://amzn.to/1Oo9Ect" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="http://bit.ly/2ao1az1" target="_blank">here.</a></div>
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Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-22288521164866409542016-07-18T10:26:00.001-04:002016-07-18T10:28:35.594-04:00Massive Summer of History #Giveaway. You can win historical fiction books And $100 gift cert. <div class="MsoNormal">
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A couple of things I love to do is introduce my readers to
other great books in the genre. So what's better than having a chance at
winning one of my books this summer? How about a chance to win books and prizes
from 18 other top writers of historical fiction today? Best of all, it's just
in time for you to kick back, put your feet up, and enjoy the warm weather with
a great book.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAuIPpkeeea9hQCCcCKkY9gXb9WGeG0pQ3-LnwmtsSHzwzlxMh3S0-pxNcHcEQ7ZKlYs8eHJe54JsXYJhe6qHNh-3Axbhpe4WJnJDimxEtMfN3Nbi0PIW8MQ3qBIY7AWRTfHjTNLxkuy9-/s1600/Summer+of+History+%25281%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAuIPpkeeea9hQCCcCKkY9gXb9WGeG0pQ3-LnwmtsSHzwzlxMh3S0-pxNcHcEQ7ZKlYs8eHJe54JsXYJhe6qHNh-3Axbhpe4WJnJDimxEtMfN3Nbi0PIW8MQ3qBIY7AWRTfHjTNLxkuy9-/s640/Summer+of+History+%25281%2529.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />
<a href="http://upvir.al/14996/lp14996" target="_blank">Pick Five Books You'd Like to Win!!!</a></div>
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Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-19212478219824755132016-05-07T11:55:00.001-04:002016-05-07T11:55:49.542-04:00BOOK AND PENDENT GIVEAWAYGOING ON NOW!<h4>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">In celebration of my book's release day (May 10th), I'll be holding a giveaway starting Tuesday on my book's page (<a href="https://www.facebook.com/DaVincisDisciples/" target="_blank">Da Vinci's Disciples</a>). Like the page to enterto win a copy of PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY, as well as a key pendent as worn by the women of the secret art society! Become a Da Vinci Disciple!</span></h4>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvVa5Dtdl4LFeQ3rGd_sE1SS21YDac8NXE_F3M4Rp78N1O1g4yjrBdt87dnr6nYXPkB7PGMdZGDHJyEbh8BO1vW1UHQJMnWlc93sO7fPYq9iavQtuY31wcS6PHWVD4Zoyszb8andaww1q1/s1600/first+giveaway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvVa5Dtdl4LFeQ3rGd_sE1SS21YDac8NXE_F3M4Rp78N1O1g4yjrBdt87dnr6nYXPkB7PGMdZGDHJyEbh8BO1vW1UHQJMnWlc93sO7fPYq9iavQtuY31wcS6PHWVD4Zoyszb8andaww1q1/s640/first+giveaway.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-17346348034338769582016-04-15T10:34:00.001-04:002016-04-15T10:34:58.001-04:00JOIN MY SOCIAL MEDIA FLASHMOB!<br />
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A wise and talented man once told me that ‘it doesn’t matter
how great your book is, if no one knows it exists, they don’t know to buy it.’
As the quintessential ‘critically acclaimed, starving artist,’ my ‘resources’
to get my book in the public eye are limited. Now there’s Thunderclap. </div>
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Thunderclap is a new website that allows people to pledge to Tweet or Facebook
a message, all at the same time on the same day. It is by far the easiest way for
my family and friends to help me get word of my book out. Follow the link
below, where you agree to allow Thunderclap to post my designed post on the day
of its release on one or more social platforms. It’s a book blast flashmob! </div>
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I
PROMISE you, they will post this post, and ONLY this post. I’ve supported other
Thunderclap campaigns and have NEVER had a single problem with them posting
anything else. HOWEVER, this campaign will only take place if enough people
join the campaign.</div>
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I would be ever so truly grateful for your participation in
this campaign…for your support of my work. Thank you.</div>
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<a href="http://A%20wise%20and%20talented%20man%20once%20told%20me%20that%20%E2%80%98it%20doesn%E2%80%99t%20matter%20how%20great%20your%20book%20is,%20if%20no%20one%20knows%20it%20exists,%20they%20don%E2%80%99t%20know%20to%20buy%20it.%E2%80%99%20As%20the%20quintessential%20%E2%80%98critically%20acclaimed,%20starving%20artist,%E2%80%99%20my%20%E2%80%98resources%E2%80%99%20to%20get%20my%20book%20in%20the%20public%20eye%20are%20limited.%20Now%20there%E2%80%99s%20Thunderclap.%20Thunderclap%20is%20a%20new%20website%20that%20allows%20people%20to%20pledge%20to%20Tweet%20or%20Facebook%20a%20message,%20all%20at%20the%20same%20time%20on%20the%20same%20day.%20It%20is%20by%20far%20the%20easiest%20way%20for%20my%20family%20and%20friends%20to%20help%20me%20get%20word%20of%20my%20book%20out.%20Follow%20the%20link%20below,%20where%20you%20agree%20to%20allow%20Thunderclap%20to%20post%20my%20designed%20post%20on%20the%20day%20of%20its%20release%20on%20one%20or%20more%20social%20platforms.%20It%E2%80%99s%20a%20book%20blast%20flashmob!%20I%20PROMISE%20you,%20they%20will%20post%20this%20post,%20and%20ONLY%20this%20post.%20I%E2%80%99ve%20supported%20other%20Thunderclap%20campaigns%20and%20have%20NEVER%20had%20a%20single%20problem%20with%20them%20posting%20anything%20else.%20HOWEVER,%20this%20campaign%20will%20only%20take%20place%20if%20enough%20people%20join%20the%20campaign.%20I%20would%20be%20ever%20so%20truly%20grateful%20for%20your%20participation%20in%20this%20campaign%E2%80%A6for%20your%20support%20of%20my%20work.%20Thank%20you./" target="_blank">PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY Thunderclap Campaign</a> <o:p></o:p></div>
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<iframe frameborder="0" height="540px" src="https://www.thunderclap.it/projects/40457-portrait-ofa-conspiracy-launch/embed" width="250px"></iframe>Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-78008963901123668442016-04-07T10:48:00.000-04:002016-04-07T14:33:09.765-04:00A GOOD BOOK NEEDS A GOOD EDIT: NOTHING SCREAMS 'AMATEUR' LOUDER THAN A GLARING SPELLINGMISTAKE OR IMPROPER PUNCTUATIONNOW ACCEPTING CLIENTS<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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Russo Morin<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif; font-size: 18.0pt;">Editorial Services<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Kabel Bk BT";">It's next to impossible to edit one's own writing (or typing,
for that matter) with an objective eye.
Familiarity breeds errors. As a
twenty-five year writing professional, I offer expert editing and copy-editing
services. I am an internationally
published author of fiction and nonfiction with a BA in Communications from the University of Rhode Island, and
certification from the National Writer's School. I have many years of experience as an editor
for both print and internet magazines and I teach writing at my state's most
prestigious adult learning center. </span><span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Kabel Bk BT";"><br /></span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Kabel Bk BT";">My editing expertise lies in all areas: spelling, punctuation,
spacing, sentence variety, subject verb agreement, dashes vs. hyphens, bullet
points, jargon, syntax, confusing
phrases or modifiers; chapter headings consistency; presentation of numbers,
quotes, images, links, margins, headings; consistency of capitalization,
abbreviations, font, names, locations, character names, logic or paragraph
sequence; uniformity in presentation style/author’s voice.</span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Kabel Bk BT";"><br /></span></div>
<h3>
<i style="font-family: Sylfaen, serif;"><b>It is my sincere goal to try to teach authors where their weak
points are and give suggestions on how to correct them, empowering them with
evolved writing skills; to not only improve their book, but improve their craft
overall.<br /></b></i></h3>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Kabel Bk BT";">Three levels of service are available:</span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Kabel Bk BT";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Kabel Bk BT";"> </span><span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Kabel Bk BT";">Express Proofreading-spelling, typing, punctuation and basic
grammar.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Kabel Bk BT";"> </span><span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Kabel Bk BT";">Basic Copyediting-with above, word choice, clarity, phrasing,
grammar and syntax.</span></h4>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Kabel Bk BT";"><br /></span></div>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif;">Advanced Editing-with above, extensive rewriting and reworking
of text for readability and style. In addition, I provide an in-depth analysis
of the work overall, making suggestions on the plot arc, character development,
and much more</span><span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif;">.<br /></span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Kabel Bk BT";"> </span><span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Kabel Bk BT";">*A page is defined as standard manuscript size, using
double-spaced lines (cost for single-spaced material is one and a half times
the listed rates).</span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif;"><br /></span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif;">My CV, including all clients and their works, is available upon request.</span></h4>
<h4>
<br /><span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif;">Contact me at donna@donnarussomorin.com for rates and availability.</span></h4>
<h4>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif;">TOGETHER, WE CAN MAKE YOUR GOOD BOOK INTO A GREAT BOOK!</span><span style="font-family: "sylfaen" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Kabel Bk BT";"> </span></h4>
Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-68080286433863953952016-03-29T09:29:00.001-04:002016-03-29T09:29:25.597-04:00GOODREADS GIVEAWAYPORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4p6mItcMmgCc1_U3PyAzyFgpTnehZLlq2Zw_gglHw3nZBRDb7lXs-iVFr6oikZu0y3Fycz0S0INDerujQdv6BlhJk7e32NbxElh8Yl0-YAlIgLLEIBeXVsjsjgPDdJSAUc3FVPNe5rHu/s1600/goodreads+giveaway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4p6mItcMmgCc1_U3PyAzyFgpTnehZLlq2Zw_gglHw3nZBRDb7lXs-iVFr6oikZu0y3Fycz0S0INDerujQdv6BlhJk7e32NbxElh8Yl0-YAlIgLLEIBeXVsjsjgPDdJSAUc3FVPNe5rHu/s640/goodreads+giveaway.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/179430-portrait-of-conspiracy" target="_blank">ENTER HERE</a>Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-65657969246702516632016-03-02T12:46:00.000-05:002016-03-02T12:46:32.843-05:00PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY IS NOW AVAILABLE ON NETGALLEY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNchosLWGxaIikr4kr7WcZW3pfmKT33H9Z4x6yiy7RWnulcYEX7VeT6K0Nv43HFOGgHjGjJOh0fwMPD05A3D1R1UX-Mo6mWRPCYQiP-5JGQlMo59ab3SRMj-VR5PVT3fc09yPKwdR8wD2L/s1600/poc+final+cover+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNchosLWGxaIikr4kr7WcZW3pfmKT33H9Z4x6yiy7RWnulcYEX7VeT6K0Nv43HFOGgHjGjJOh0fwMPD05A3D1R1UX-Mo6mWRPCYQiP-5JGQlMo59ab3SRMj-VR5PVT3fc09yPKwdR8wD2L/s320/poc+final+cover+%25282%2529.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #232629; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 32px;">To all my blogger and professional reviewer friends, the first book in my Da Vinci's Disciples series is now up on NetGalley. I would be ever so grateful to those who love historical fiction, to give it a read and let me know what you think. I am always so thankful to anyone who takes the time to read my book and to share their thoughts, opinions, reviews, and ratings. I value your time and opinions. Please feel free to share the link with any other bloggers or reviewers. With gratitude!</span><br />
<span style="color: #232629; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 32px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #232629; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 32px;"><a href="https://www.netgalley.com/widget/open?widget_id=84379_81333_145686020356d5ec2b88c5d_9781682300596_US" target="_blank">PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY ON NETGALLEY</a></span>Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-44775223115353154922016-02-11T09:56:00.001-05:002016-02-11T09:56:51.823-05:00AUTHORS AT THE MERCY OF ALGORITHMS #1Many readers, and perhaps some authors, don’t know of the power of algorithms and how they can make or break the success of a book. The first instance is pre-orders. Pre-orders will determine if online retailers (cough, Amazon, et. al) send messages and feature any one book. The more pre-orders, the more they’ll feature the book. It will also determine how many books their publisher will print. The best written book can fail if these algorithms aren’t put into play. It is no longer just about the craft, as it should be.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSKm-maC1IK1HqHUDKdO_67eo_Do458-eWETyq5Wuc4T0Qh9OYuyK6DtDJ5fpgbkmyb5F2Hjs0kuov8E964ISm2RZVL5wdGkCAMKMipVMNWof2Da599ohA6VRQrYzhNgYqsc8QBt6mwr0X/s1600/poc+final+cover+%25282%2529+%2528424x640%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSKm-maC1IK1HqHUDKdO_67eo_Do458-eWETyq5Wuc4T0Qh9OYuyK6DtDJ5fpgbkmyb5F2Hjs0kuov8E964ISm2RZVL5wdGkCAMKMipVMNWof2Da599ohA6VRQrYzhNgYqsc8QBt6mwr0X/s200/poc+final+cover+%25282%2529+%2528424x640%2529.jpg" width="132" /></a></div>
Three months before its release, both the print and e-version pre-order links of my book, PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY, are now available. I’m so thrilled to be working with a publisher attuned to being competitive.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>The e-version is ONLY $4.99!!!! </b><br />
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I would be ever so grateful for any interested readers to make their way over to their favorite online retailer and put in your pre-order. Sharing this post would be a big help in assisting me to triumph over the algorithms.<br />
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Here are the links to the two biggest online sellers:<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Portrait-Conspiracy-Vincis-Disciples-Book/dp/1682300609/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1455201507&sr=8-1&keywords=portrait+of+a+conspiracy" target="_blank">PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY ON AMAZON</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/portrait-of-conspiracy-donna-russo-morin/1122936488?ean=9781682300602" target="_blank">PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY ON BARNES AND NOBLE</a><br />
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With gratitude.<br />
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Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-60782132441673890202016-01-10T14:37:00.001-05:002016-01-10T14:37:27.869-05:00WHAT I DON'T WRITE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUC7w9IU2EB_K_mr0g_7T0YdoDVFaA2hyphenhyphenekpcWmKkJGPM23gMZJw4ZtC9O2CXZaDyvcEqucWK_oirO0rqjSbP9cr2fhZF7b7ZJ2V8p3SXxkdD9yO_c_Kg7BbxVZxVcitw3E6cjQaxzTSeS/s1600/red+bow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUC7w9IU2EB_K_mr0g_7T0YdoDVFaA2hyphenhyphenekpcWmKkJGPM23gMZJw4ZtC9O2CXZaDyvcEqucWK_oirO0rqjSbP9cr2fhZF7b7ZJ2V8p3SXxkdD9yO_c_Kg7BbxVZxVcitw3E6cjQaxzTSeS/s320/red+bow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I do not write stories where everything ends tied up in a
pretty bow and I do not apologize for it. That’s not life. Yes, there are
pretty bows here and there, for some more than others. Yes, I write stories of
women from the past, but their lives often had fewer pretty bows; their
struggles were often simply to survive. I believe the women and men who read—or
would read—my books, are of an intellect and maturity that allows them to appreciate
not only the truth rather than the fairy tale, but also know what it means to
cherish the little bows that trickle through our lives, for they are often far
more precious. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-28981128336011721212015-11-10T13:00:00.000-05:002015-11-11T13:37:02.050-05:00COVER REVEAL! PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY Da Vinci's Disciples Book One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpIF-Wg4_uCqTaIPWYzLqvoNr0IopnTG9TJLZICqrZcTfvl05ZTDqpKzneBRBKvUThctWbJVcNy9OEVavFaOT7ETyF4S9AhtWDyaK9e7Zb1c5kYPqoAKJZ6MfZKjmB3evJa1dk4WmdJip/s1600/poc+final+cover.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpIF-Wg4_uCqTaIPWYzLqvoNr0IopnTG9TJLZICqrZcTfvl05ZTDqpKzneBRBKvUThctWbJVcNy9OEVavFaOT7ETyF4S9AhtWDyaK9e7Zb1c5kYPqoAKJZ6MfZKjmB3evJa1dk4WmdJip/s640/poc+final+cover.jpe" width="424" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">May 10, 2016</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Available for pre-order now!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
See links below!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
It is with great pride and excitement that I reveal the cover of the first book in my upcoming series, Da Vinci's Disciples: PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY.</div>
</div>
<br />
One murder ignites the powder-keg that threatens to consume a city. Amidst the chaos, five women and one legendary artist weave together a plot that could bring peace, or get them all killed.<br />
<br />
Seeking to wrest power from the Medici family in 15th Century Florence, members of the Pazzi family draw their blades in a church and slay Giuliano de' Medici. But his brother Lorenzo de’ Medici survives, and seeks revenge on everyone involved, plunging the city into a murderous chaos that takes dozens of lives. Bodies are dragged through the streets, no one is safe.<br />
<br />
Five women steal away to a church to ply their craft in secret. Viviana, Fiammetta, Isabetta, Natasia, and Mattea are painters, forced to hide their talent from the world, but freed from the restrictions in their lives by their art. When a sixth member of their group, Lapaccia, goes missing, and is rumored to have stolen a much sought after painting as she vanished, the women must venture out into the dangerous streets to find their friend and see her safe. They will have help from one of the most renowned painters of their era—the peaceful and kind Leonardo Da Vinci. It is under his tutelage that they will flourish as artists, and with his access that they will infiltrate some of the highest, most secretive places in Florence, unraveling one conspiracy as they build another in its place.<br />
<br />
Historical fiction at its finest, Donna Russo Morin begins the series, Da Vinci’s Disciples with a novel both vibrant and absorbing, perfect for the readers of Sarah Dunant.<br />
<br />
<i>Da Vinci’s Disciples</i>, the trilogy, is the story of a secret society of women artists, under the tutelage of the great Leonardo da Vinci, who must navigate the treacherous life of 15th century Florence while trying to bring their artistry to the world. PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY will be followed by THE COMPETITION and THE FIRE (tentative titles).<br />
<br />
<i>‘A riveting page-turner unlike any historical novel you’ve read, weaving passion, adventure, artistic rebirth, and consequences of ambition into the first of a trilogy by a masterful writer at the peak of her craft.’ </i> <br />
-C. W. Gortner, author of<br />
The Confessions of Catherine de’ Medici and The Vatican Princess<br />
<br />
READ AN EXCERPT: <a href="http://www.donnarussomorin.com/PortraitofAconspiracyexcerpt.pdf" target="_blank">PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY EXCERPT</a><br />
<br />
PRE-ORDER PURCHASE LINKS:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Portrait-Conspiracy-Vincis-Disciples-Book/dp/1682300609/ref=sr_1_12?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1446221756&sr=1-12&refinements=p_30%3ADiversion+Publishing%2Cp_n_feature_browse-bin%3A2656022011" target="_blank">Amazon<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaXw5GMrkeJrGolzGt72DgqOjstX_WrL5SlzD6NmOWNDSVYnibHkvx_spdE4oKvXaL0A38lUUapTkyufr1A8zyYcZSt5Sb7eAcGPT0dOQOs175kUcwMaKTqvSrsqwcFrmOCw1QjGzXiJlW/s1600/Duomo-Florence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaXw5GMrkeJrGolzGt72DgqOjstX_WrL5SlzD6NmOWNDSVYnibHkvx_spdE4oKvXaL0A38lUUapTkyufr1A8zyYcZSt5Sb7eAcGPT0dOQOs175kUcwMaKTqvSrsqwcFrmOCw1QjGzXiJlW/s320/Duomo-Florence.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Duomo, Florence, Italy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</a><br />
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<br />Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-73702534223644537842015-10-01T14:27:00.001-04:002015-10-01T14:27:28.913-04:00THE MEDICI RETURN TO FLORENCE<div class="MsoNormal">
The years between 1494 and 1512, found the Medicis without a
homeland, nomads on the search for a place on the peninsula of Italy and for
powerful support. That support came from the Vatican itself. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Tn3X34JXrRoJ5fApGb7jQypl1yCyOFelXAh0yR71XInSEaOWxAOEdO8C7nTK4q__YNXw6JnrRJVUEvV_yqpJxzbEot4DOKkdiTtyaehfDniIaJ3ybEhnhrbP07rq8d_S6we59T-cYXKb/s1600/Pope_Julius_II.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Tn3X34JXrRoJ5fApGb7jQypl1yCyOFelXAh0yR71XInSEaOWxAOEdO8C7nTK4q__YNXw6JnrRJVUEvV_yqpJxzbEot4DOKkdiTtyaehfDniIaJ3ybEhnhrbP07rq8d_S6we59T-cYXKb/s1600/Pope_Julius_II.jpg" /></a></div>
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Pope Julius II, born Giovanni della Rovere, known as ‘The
Fearsome Pope,’ ‘The Warrior Pope,’ set to ‘clean house’ from the moment of his
election. He rid the Vatican of any trace of his predecessor, The Borgia Pope.
Julius’ maneuverings rendered it impossible for any Borgia to regain a smidgen
of control. He denounced and defiled them with a righteous whip, “I will not
live in the same rooms as the Borgias lived. He [Alexander VI] desecrated the
Holy Church as none before. He usurped the papal power by the devil's aid, and
I forbid under the pain of excommunication anyone to speak or think of Borgia
again. His name and memory must be forgotten. It must be crossed out of every
document and memorial. His reign must be obliterated. All paintings made of the
Borgias or for them must be covered over with black crepe. All the tombs of the
Borgias must be opened and their bodies sent back to where they belong - to
Spain.” The apartments of the Borgias remained closed, sealed away from any
eyes, until the 19<sup>th</sup> century. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But they were not Julius’ only targets. <o:p></o:p></div>
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By reconciling two powerful families, the Colona and the
Orsini, his power in Rome was solidified. He freed Venice, Bologna, and Perugia
from the despotic rulers and issued a dispensation allowing Henry VIII to marry
Catherine of Aragon, his brother’s widow. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It was this pope, one who never shied away from conflict or
war, who created the conditions for the<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzsMGNZXlMode0tqUEaDDpjH5QzPq3CsMgVwvKEvCxBd596tMrMX0tybx9zD5Hm3J5ydacMNHQK2kouCL-xMl82xloPgaGLQdt4ZT7rfWDQXRQzy-7Uo1ZZ-upY_ehn2UeaSpjcSt-hKWn/s1600/220px-Piero_Soderini_%25281450-1522%2529%252C_by_Ridolfo_del_Ghirlandaio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzsMGNZXlMode0tqUEaDDpjH5QzPq3CsMgVwvKEvCxBd596tMrMX0tybx9zD5Hm3J5ydacMNHQK2kouCL-xMl82xloPgaGLQdt4ZT7rfWDQXRQzy-7Uo1ZZ-upY_ehn2UeaSpjcSt-hKWn/s200/220px-Piero_Soderini_%25281450-1522%2529%252C_by_Ridolfo_del_Ghirlandaio.jpg" width="142" /></a></div>
enemies of Piero Soderini—Soderini having
controlled Florence since the Medici exile—to rise up and take action. As the
Holy League battled the French on many fronts, the Soderini and their ilk
remained allies, underestimating the power of the League and their friends in
Florence. Many of these papal friends desired reconciliation with the Pope and
demanded Soderini’s removal. Though the Great Council of Florence continued to
lay their support on Soderini, collusions erupted all around him. As the
Florentines gathered 350 armed knights, 500 light cavalry, and 14,000 infantry,
their lack of cohesive ruling could not agree on where to place them. On
Sunday, August 29, 1512, Spaniard Ramon Folc de Cardona, Viceroy of Naples, and
his troops were placed by the Pope and by Cardinal Giovanni de’ Medici in
Prato. The attack was a quick, murderous sack, leaving hundreds dead in the
wake, leaving all Florentines to question their leader. <br />
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Only four days later, four young nobleman stormed the
Palazzo della Signoria, demanding release of the thirty Medici friends who had
been imprisoned as a precaution. Soderini, when notified of the actions in the
government palace, sent Niccolo Machiavelli to bring Franceso Vettori, a
commissioner of the city’s internal defense force, to rush to the palace to
mediate the dangerous standoff. Vettori found Soderini isolated and helpless, hurried
him away, from the palace, from Florence, and into exile, where he would remain.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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For weeks Florence floundered, many of the nobility cried
out not only for the Medici return but for their rule. Cardinal Giovanni de’
Medici, having returned to the city barely noticed, dressed in civilian clothes
and shaved faced, walked in as a private citizen, walking through the city with
friends. Yet the divisiveness was still rampant. Action had to be taken. Under
Giovanni’s orders, Cardona carried out a coup on September 16, seizing the
piazza and the palazzo. Any resistance by the <i>popolo</i>—the citizens—was dampened by the distribution of bread and
the rumor that 6,000 Spanish infantry were on their way to the city. Florence
was once more in the hands of the Medici.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Though the most logical and popular leader would have been
Giovanni himself, his duties as Cardinal and Papal legate kept him far too
often in Rome and Bologna. Thus enters Giuliano II de Lorenzo de’ Medici.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDRhPqHF8AQ6mhPY4FRm4iLnpHj-wW76Mi5DtXnoHky1HoTpzNP9ua2O8bI-Ef-m279n7zHrlc42bS2L5IhDyPHqi3k-rtah9aT6o1BbH7bd3y5EmIW6XODANSOJhFM7RzDKQllCLFhX66/s1600/young+Giuliano+II.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDRhPqHF8AQ6mhPY4FRm4iLnpHj-wW76Mi5DtXnoHky1HoTpzNP9ua2O8bI-Ef-m279n7zHrlc42bS2L5IhDyPHqi3k-rtah9aT6o1BbH7bd3y5EmIW6XODANSOJhFM7RzDKQllCLFhX66/s200/young+Giuliano+II.jpg" width="138" /></a></div>
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Born in 1479 to Lorenzo de’ Medici and Clarice Orsini,
Giuliano—named for Lorenzo’s assassinated brother—was only sixteen when the
family was exiled. His young adulthood was not spent in council chambers or
ruling palaces, his education was not one of a destined leader. And yet that is
what he became in 1512. Most call his leadership simply moderate. As was said
of him, ‘he does not understand the affairs of the city’ and was unable to
contemplate the views of the citizens which had become more self-interest
motivated rather than simply Medici followers. Giuliano did little to dispel
the notion, did, in fact, add to it with his frequent absences from the city.
He relied on a strong inner cabinet led by one or two powerful men to resolve
disagreement and make decisions. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Such apathy was as despised as despotism. In February of
1513, a conspiracy to assassinate Giuliano was discovered. Within days it
leaders and conspirators were rounded up and executed. And though he took no
part in it, Niccolo Machiavelli’s outspoken skepticism concerning the new
Medici leadership found him ,arrested, tortured and jailed for a month. This
conspiracy, concurrent with the criticisms from the growing Savonarolan
circles, ended the moderate ruling stance of the Medici. <o:p></o:p></div>
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On March 11, 1513, when Giuliano’s cousin, Giovanni, became
Pope Leo X, the Medici fortunes, and their power, rose to new heights. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPSbWOeU5d5Lwa1GtfvPmUAvZxWJ8dfyNIalO6qNiKYRuEsJZtNr1PPUPMjS_pvue35M5R_0-5OToy1b_UE5jqXcCchywPH0q5y964el7cm1Gl1WvJl1jrQe2E4CmIwGyZs8Tyx8d-74y3/s1600/220px-Raffaello%252C_giuliano_de%2527_medici.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPSbWOeU5d5Lwa1GtfvPmUAvZxWJ8dfyNIalO6qNiKYRuEsJZtNr1PPUPMjS_pvue35M5R_0-5OToy1b_UE5jqXcCchywPH0q5y964el7cm1Gl1WvJl1jrQe2E4CmIwGyZs8Tyx8d-74y3/s200/220px-Raffaello%252C_giuliano_de%2527_medici.jpg" width="153" /></a></div>
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On February 22, 1515, Giuliano married Filiberta of Savoy,
daughter of Philip II, Duke of Savoy, adding tighter knots to the ties to
France. That same year, Francois I, Fliiberta’s nephew, conferred upon Giuliano
the title of the Duke de Nemours. It was a short, barren marriage, though
Giuliano did sire a son, Ippolito, born four years prior to the marriage. Giuliano’s
rule was short and inconsequential, ending with his young death in 1516 at the
age of 37.</div>
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Giuliano was succeeded by his nephew, Lorenzo II, and his
tomb resides in the Basilica of San Lorenzo, as do many of the Medici. Because
of his name, his tomb is often mistaken for that of his namesake. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-79717694136805406152015-08-31T12:46:00.000-04:002015-08-31T12:46:23.708-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix0rt09kCwd-BcXX1OMHwjD-W2GJYPxYz0eznTV0hPHACz6Atr1qpirOEQUy1_kVcbDzrJgH547yqIx8rsPhbzKRBYnLwRjaATlEXk-duln91SxYSsDQPBiqhjN1Qn8ROoznlAUrpu_61y/s1600/POC+prologue+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix0rt09kCwd-BcXX1OMHwjD-W2GJYPxYz0eznTV0hPHACz6Atr1qpirOEQUy1_kVcbDzrJgH547yqIx8rsPhbzKRBYnLwRjaATlEXk-duln91SxYSsDQPBiqhjN1Qn8ROoznlAUrpu_61y/s640/POC+prologue+pic.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
To read an excerpt from this upcoming series about the birth of the female Renaissance artist, visit this page: <a href="http://www.donnarussomorin.com/portraitofconspiracy.html" target="_blank">Excerpt: Da Vinci's Disciples: PORTRAIT OF A CONSPIRACY</a>Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-71235652808539972942015-07-27T09:12:00.001-04:002015-07-27T09:12:41.953-04:00THE KING'S AGENT BOOK TRAILERAt the recent Historical Novel Society Conference in Denver, Colorado, it was my pleasure and privilege to speak on writing about art and artists. The King’s Agent is based loosely on the life of Battista della Palla-a patriotic plunderer, a religious rogue-of the 16th century, a lifelong friend to the great Michelangelo.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksN667QKiNYwDvz_94-MpQUdMDmNqLBKyBGyUIC_KJSZx6Cmo9tmwzMfMfOYyFsjB_OHDFxcnrgPzAaDNJcOY6uHn_1mZJvl5yB8P03SEua28IVzI7SMV5YFtPK9Qkp-ZL_fNu5SLhLp8/s1600/michelangelo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksN667QKiNYwDvz_94-MpQUdMDmNqLBKyBGyUIC_KJSZx6Cmo9tmwzMfMfOYyFsjB_OHDFxcnrgPzAaDNJcOY6uHn_1mZJvl5yB8P03SEua28IVzI7SMV5YFtPK9Qkp-ZL_fNu5SLhLp8/s320/michelangelo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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As the cloistered ward of the Marquess of Mantua, Lady Aurelia is a woman with a profound duty, and a longing for adventure. In search of a relic intended for the King of France, Battista and Aurelia cross the breathtaking landscape of Renaissance Italy. Clues hide in great works of art, political forces collide, secret societies and enemies abound, and danger lurks in every challenge, those that mirror the passages of Dante's Divine Comedy. It is an adventurous quest with undercurrents of the supernatural, powers that could change the balance of supremacy throughout Europe.<br />
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In this short trailer, the works of art providing the clue can be seen as well as the actual locations in Italy where the challenges took place.<br />
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<a href="http://www.authorstream.com/Presentation/jwriter-2388039-kings-agent-trailer-draft-black/" target="_blank">The King's Agent Book Trailer</a><br />
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Many thanks to the talent Mary Burns, trailer creator and producer!Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-4200459328148011742015-07-09T09:06:00.002-04:002015-07-09T09:06:56.207-04:00Recap of the 2015 Denver Historical Novel Society Conference panel-talk “Art and Artists in HF”<header class="entry-header" style="margin: 0px auto; width: 584.265625px;"><h1 class="entry-title" style="border: 0px; clear: both; font-family: inherit; font-size: 36px; font-style: inherit; line-height: 48px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 15px 0px 0.3em; vertical-align: baseline;">
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We love art. We love artists. We love art history. We write about art, artists and history. Art-based historical fiction is an expanding and exciting niche in the historical fiction genre. At this year’s Historical Novel Society Conference in Denver, June 26-28, writers Alana White (<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The Sign of the Weeping Virgin</em>), Donna Russo Morrin (<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The King’s Agent</em>), myself Stephanie Renee dos Santos (<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Cut From The Earth</em>), Mary F. Burns (<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Portraits of An Artist</em>), and Stephanie Cowell (<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Claude & Camille</em>) came together to share our collective wisdom on how and what special challenges arise when writing about art and artists and what to keep in mind when delving into the world of the creative arts. A special thanks to the forty writers who attended our discussion. We hope each of you left with something to aid and enhance your stories!</div>
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<strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Here’s the recap of the writing points we covered at the panel-talk:</strong></div>
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<b>Alana White:</b> “Using art to advance the story in action and dialogue.”</div>
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In <em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The Sign of the Weeping Virgin</em> the setting of this historical mystery series is the Italian Renaissance when my protagonist, lawyer Guid’Antonio, conducts investigations for the powerful Medici family. In the novel, the young ruler of Florence, Lorenzo de’ Medici, asks Guid’Antonio to investigate two mysteries for him. One involves a weeping panel painting of the Virgin Mary, the other centers on a missing girl. While there is considerable art in the narrative, it is Sandro Botticelli’s fresco of Saint Augustine that provides the clue to solve the mystery of the young woman who has disappeared.</div>
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Since this is a mystery, I wanted to “plant” the clue that enables Guid’Antonio to solve the riddle four times. While painting the “Saint Augustine” in Guid’Antonio’s family church, Botticelli overheard some young monks arguing among themselves. Amused, he recorded four lines of their dialogue at the top of the painting in the scribbled lines of a geometry book. (Restorers discovered the lines while cleaning the fresco in the relatively recent past.)</div>
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<li style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">We see Sandro painting the lines at the top of the fresco:</li>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Is Brother Martino anywhere about?</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Brother Martino just slipped out.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Slipped out where?</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Through the Prato Gate for a breath of fresh air.</em></div>
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<li style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Guid’Antonio has gone into the church to inspect the panel painting on the altar—the reportedly weepin</li>
<li style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">g painting. On the way out, he notices Sandro’s newly completed fresco on the south wall. While Guid’Antonio sees the scribbles high up in the gloom, he cannot read the lines. “Guid’Antonio made out a fringed tablecloth and a couple of books, one leather bound, the other open to a page scribbled with a few odd markings and, hidden as it was in the shadows, a bit of text he could not make out. Like his spirit, all the rest of Sandro’s masterful work was lost in a world of dark, and so he turned away.”</li>
<li style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Very brief, but advances the mystery elements of the story. By now, Guid’Antonio—and we—suspect “Brother Martino” has something to do with the missing girl.</li>
<li style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">While Guid’Antonio is standing near the church front, his nephew and secretary, Amerigo Vespucci, swings the doors open, admitting sunlight. At last Guido reads the dialogue. Realizing Botticelli must know something about “Brother Martino,” he hurries to Botticelli’s workshop. Now close to the novel’s end, Sandro provides Guid’Antonio with the clue Guid’Antonio needs to wrap up the loose threads concerning the girl, and the mystery of the weeping Virgin Mary painting, too.</li>
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<a href="http://www.stephaniereneedossantos.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/edited-Donna-Russo-Morrin.jpg" style="border: 0px; color: #2027ea; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="edited Donna Russo Morrin" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-18480" height="541" src="http://www.stephaniereneedossantos.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/edited-Donna-Russo-Morrin.jpg" style="border: 1px solid rgb(221, 221, 221); clear: both; display: block; height: auto; margin: 0.4em auto 1.625em; max-width: 97.5%; padding: 6px; width: auto;" width="721" /></a></div>
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<b>Donna Russo Morin:</b> “Using specific artworks to reveal time period and/or social/political attitudes – to depict an art history advancement.”</div>
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<li style="background-color: white; border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; color: #373737; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 24.375px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Civilizations are remembered, discovered, through their artists and their art.</li>
<li style="background-color: white; border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; color: #373737; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 24.375px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">There are certain eras where humanity made significant social/cultural changes. The Renaissance is one of those times.</li>
<li style="background-color: white; border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; color: #373737; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 24.375px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The Italian Renaissance artists changed the very nature of their mediums.</li>
<li style="background-color: white; border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; color: #373737; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 24.375px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The Renaissance signaled the reemergence, the ‘rebirth,’ of Humanism, the belief in the intellectual potential and overall experience of <i>humankind</i>. Art reflected Humanism, turning to more realism.</li>
<li style="background-color: white; border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; color: #373737; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-style: inherit; line-height: 24.375px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-weight: inherit;">A perfect example is Michelangelo’s David. In this scene, my female protagonist in </span><i style="font-weight: inherit;">The King’s Agent </i><span style="font-weight: inherit;">sees the statue for the first time: </span><i style="font-weight: inherit;"><i>It was indeed a giant; Aurelia guessed it to be taller than three men. When she studied the face, all of David’s mysteries were revealed. The face was, as she had heard, a bit large for the size of the head, but upon his features, she saw all of the fear, tension, and aggression the real David must have felt when attacked by the colossal Goliath. Wrinkles perforated his forehead, thick brows drawn together, with a scornful twist to his full lips; fearful, yest, but with an inner assuredness that all evil could be felled. There was great nobility to the man etched into immortality, a beautiful determination astounding the eye as well as the soul. </i></i></li>
<li style="background-color: white; border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; color: #373737; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 24.375px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Art mirrored the turn from religious themes; were instead infused with sensation that paintings were modeled after real people/real life. In this quote, the male protagonist scours a painting by Carlo Crivelli: <i>The painting was a combination of hard angled buildings and gracefully rounded people. It projected a vanishing perspective, with Mary glimpsed in the foreground just through an open door, two men in the gallery beside the building, and others in the background, the success of the dimensions depicted, were a function of the perfect spatial and size balance of each person and object rendered</i>.</li>
<li style="background-color: white; border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; color: #373737; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 24.375px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">This is the sort of realism that found its birth in the rebirth of the Renaissance.</li>
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<b>Stephanie Renee dos Santos:</b> “Use of artist space to depict action in story – moments of crisis and conflict.”</div>
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I elucidated this point with excerpts (condensed versions shared here) from my forthcoming novel<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </em><em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Cut From The Earth, </em>the story of an empathetic Portuguese tile maker, Piloto Mendes Pires, who risks everything to save slaves and escape The Great Lisbon Earthquake of 1755 that ushers Portugal into a New Age.<strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </strong></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">Example 1: Chracter Conflict</span></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The back alley door slammed open as Rafa picked up a large rolling pin, double the size of a baker’s.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">In stormed Senhor Guimares, the owner of the nearby Red Clay Tile Factory. His dark mustache quivered on his flushed face.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“Where’s Padre Piloto?” he demanded.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Piloto peered down through the floor’s grid. He remained quiet, waiting to hear what he’d come for.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“Hand me the template,” Rafa said to Jawoli calmly. Rafa placed the 14 x 14 metal template on top of a flattened slab of clay, and began cutting tiles out with a knife.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“I asked a question you ignorant peças!” Senhor Guimares bellowed. “Where is the Padre!?” He shook his index finger at them.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Piloto cringed. He rushed to the stairway. How to deal with this man?</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Senhor Guimares stomped by the kilns and over to where the men worked.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“Who’s in charge?” he demanded, his mustache now twitching. “Comer o pao que o diabo amassou! I’m speaking to you!” Sweat ran down his temples and dripped onto his pressed linen shirt, taut on his keg belly.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Rafa put the scoring tool down and stared coldly at the intruder. “Padre Piloto.”</em></div>
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<li style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">This excerpt shows how one can use the artist space and materials to demonstrate and create conflict between characters, while allowing the reader deeper into the specifics of the artists world.</li>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">Example 2: Crisis</span></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">A jolt shot through Piloto’s body, ejecting the tile from the tong’s grip. It shattered on the floor. He dropped the iron-tongs. They clattered upon the shards. Barrels of chalky glazes shook, their thick soups boiling over their rims, mixing paddles churning in the vats. The viscous substances ebbed and flowed down the sides of their holding containers: manganese-browns, copper-greens, cobalt-blues, iron-oxide oranges, creating an amalgam of colors on the ground.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Rolling pins fell off counters, and ricocheted end-on-end before congregating in a pile, next to the vats. Dried goat balls the size of peaches filled with liquid glaze vaulted to the floor, glaze paints squirting out their nozzle ends. Buckets of paintbrushes careened, the brushes scattering like plucked feathers. Work pedestals spun. Small glass jars of pigments vibrated across tabletops; others wobbled off, exploding. Water spilled from barrel containers, housing gooey slip used to join clay pieces, and formed puddles on the floor’s low spots. The holding tank of white iron-oxide cracked down the front, its contents oozed out. Stacks of clay blocks toppled, hitting the floor with loud thuds. Pails of wires, paddles, anvils, and ribs shimmered off back shelves, while the shelves themselves threatened to pitch forward.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Piloto dashed from spot to spot, arms outstretched, catching items and picking up others. He filled his arms.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">What is going on? </em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The earth heaved again, a second more severe shock, a violent undulating ocean wave.</em></div>
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<li style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">This scene uses the visually unique and exotic tile making factory to recreate what it might have been like for a tile maker the fatal day of November 1st, All Saints Day, when The Great Lisbon Earthquake leveled Lisbon, Portugal in 1755.</li>
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<a href="http://www.stephaniereneedossantos.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/edit-Mary-F-Burns.jpg" style="border: 0px; color: #2027ea; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="edit Mary F Burns" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-18485" height="541" src="http://www.stephaniereneedossantos.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/edit-Mary-F-Burns.jpg" style="border: 1px solid rgb(221, 221, 221); clear: both; display: block; height: auto; margin: 0.4em auto 1.625em; max-width: 97.5%; padding: 6px; width: auto;" width="721" /></a></div>
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<b>Mary F. Burns</b>: “Seeing and thinking through the eyes and heart of the artist.”<u></u><u></u></div>
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A question for all historical fiction authors is: Do you have to be a (<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Fill in the Blank</em>) in order to write about one as a character? Lawyer, Doctor, Midwife, Artist? No, but it helps if you have an affinity for the work that person does, and of course, you have to understand how that kind of person thinks, feels, sees, understands, communicates.</div>
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I learned enough about how John Singer Sargent painted—his style, his technique, his preferred media—to be able to realistically portray him in his studio and as an artist. He was very expressive and entertaining for his sitters—he fed them, played the piano and sang, dashed around the room with a cigar in his teeth, laughing and telling jokes.</div>
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But away from the canvas, I learned from biographies, he had a hard time with words, found it difficult to express himself, a very private person, genial, kindly, energetic. He loved light and shadow, as most painters do, and having a complicated personality himself, he wasn’t averse to showing both the lighter and darker sides of his subjects.”</div>
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However, he denied that he consciously depicted the “psychological” state of his subjects, said he “merely painted what was before his eyes.” But even his closest friends said otherwise. If he simply accurately painted what he saw, then it must be that our feelings, our principles, our character and background and griefs and joys are written upon our bodies, because that’s what appear in his portraits, which is why ultimately, I decided to write my novel with fifteen different voices telling the story, the voices of people who sat for portraits by Sargent, some of them dear friends, some one-time clients, but all providing different perspectives and clues as to who Sargent really was. As Oscar Wilde said, “Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.” And Sargent definitely revealed himself through his portraits.</div>
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* A special thanks to Mary for creating our artsy book trailers for the talk!</div>
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(All except Stephanie Cowell’s which was made by her talented son!)</div>
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<a href="http://www.stephaniereneedossantos.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/edit-SC.jpg" style="border: 0px; color: #2027ea; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="edit SC" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-18486" height="541" src="http://www.stephaniereneedossantos.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/edit-SC.jpg" style="border: 1px solid rgb(221, 221, 221); clear: both; display: block; height: auto; margin: 0.4em auto 1.625em; max-width: 97.5%; padding: 6px; width: auto;" width="721" /></a></div>
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<b>Stephanie Cowell:</b> “How much artistic ‘process’ to reveal in scenes – when is enough enough?”</div>
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You cannot write truly and deeply about anyone’s work (be it laundress, cellist, teacher, or painter) without showing them doing their work yet you must be careful how you write this. I try to reveal the work of my protagonist in scenes in which he is also living his life. In the panel, I read a scene where Monet has a fight with his wife, rushes off to paint to calm himself and loses track of the hours; when he comes back to his actual life, having been gone for a long time, he finds something bad has happened. So there is a contrast between the ecstatic, all-consuming hours of his painting and the relatively ordinary needs of the people he loves. In the case of an artist, the art is indivisible from the person. But the language of any profession is unique to that profession and you can’t go so far into the way an artist works that you confuse the reader with terminology. You also can’t have so much of the creation of art that you lose the plot tension. But you can’t ever just say that someone is anything without showing how it affects everything, even the aches in his body. Painting ruled Monet’s life; if he felt it didn’t go well he would be in total black despair and you couldn’t go near him. So you have to show that. Art was so huge for him it was like being drunk; it affected everything in him and everyone to whom he was close.</div>
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<strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">For the Love of Art in Historical Fiction! </strong></div>
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<strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">To find out more about each author, their books, and to purchase their art-based historical novels: </strong></div>
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<strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Alana White: </strong><a href="http://www.alanawhite.com/" style="border: 0px; color: #2027ea; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">www.alanawhite.com</a></div>
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To buy:<strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> <em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16034436-the-sign-of-the-weeping-virgin" style="border: 0px; color: #2027ea; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Sign of the Weeping Virgin</a></em></strong></div>
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<strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Donna Russo Morin: </strong><a href="http://donnarussomorin.com/" style="border: 0px; color: #2027ea; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">donnarussomorin.com</a></div>
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To buy: <strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/11996019-the-king-s-agent" style="border: 0px; color: #2027ea; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The King’s Agent</a></em></strong></div>
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<strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Mary F. Burns: <a href="http://www.sargent-pagetmysteries.blogspot.com/" style="border: 0px; color: #2027ea; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </a></strong><a href="http://www.sargent-pagetmysteries.blogspot.com/" style="border: 0px; color: #2027ea; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; color: blue; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">http://www.sargent-pagetmysteries.blogspot.com/</span></a></div>
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To buy: <strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17276711-portraits-of-an-artist" style="border: 0px; color: #2027ea; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Portraits of An Artist</a></em></strong></div>
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<strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Stephanie Cowell: </strong><a href="http://www.stephaniecowell.com/" style="border: 0px; color: #2027ea; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">http://www.stephaniecowell.com/</a></div>
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To buy: <strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6797515-claude-camille" style="border: 0px; color: #2027ea; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Claude & Camille</a></em></strong></div>
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<b style="color: #373737;">Stephanie Renee dos Santos: </b><span style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">http://www.stephaniereneedossantos.com/</span></span></div>
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Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72191558030080712.post-79976698373991559482015-06-01T17:22:00.001-04:002015-06-01T17:22:11.397-04:00THE SON OF LA TIGRE, CATERINA SFORZA, BRINGS A TITLE OF NOBILITY TO THE MEDICIHis parents were wed in secret, many thought of him as a bastard; he was baptized with the name Ludovico (named for a Sforza uncle); he was the son of one of the most famous and powerful woman of the Renaissance…and he became the first titled Medici.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXyk7eVlVAT2vYK03x8CuJYRarFM4toa3m9FzlP7RQZE8vZS5JH0-37t5rtEiexZ5e7tIxrO0d6CygXCTEwEm-wPOQlGGIyV5EEoOVDDMmhqriDqt8ENmCcReBs3LbI5bXNnxHX85M0JB/s1600/giovanni+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXyk7eVlVAT2vYK03x8CuJYRarFM4toa3m9FzlP7RQZE8vZS5JH0-37t5rtEiexZ5e7tIxrO0d6CygXCTEwEm-wPOQlGGIyV5EEoOVDDMmhqriDqt8ENmCcReBs3LbI5bXNnxHX85M0JB/s320/giovanni+2.jpg" width="208" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bianca Riario and her<br />half brother Giovanni</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Caterina Sforza’s son, Ludovico, was born in April of 1498; his father, Giovanni de’ Medici, died just five months later. When Ludovico, now renamed Giovanni for his deceased father, was still a baby, his mother was captured by Cesare Borgia and imprisoned in Rome, first in the Belvedere Castle then—after a failed escape attempt—in the Castel Sant’Angelo. During the years of his mother’s imprisonment, the care of Giovanni was entrusted to his eldest sister, Bianca Riario—twenty years his elder. Together, they sought refuge in a convent until the release of their mother.<br />
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Once more under the tutelage of his mother, in possession of her fiery, aggressive temperament, Caterina brought out the best and the worst in her youngest son. From an early age, Giovanni’s interests lay in physical activities and his training in military arts began in his youth. Caterina devoted herself to his education, attempting to instill in him the values of the Italian nobility of her family. The combination was deadly, but not for Giovanni.<br />
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At the death of his mother in 1509, Giovanni came under the protection of the Canon Francesco Fortunati and the wealthy Jacopo Salviati of Florence. Salviati did his best to keep the recalcitrant youth under control. It was a battle waged and lost. Salviati returned to Florence without Giovanni, who, though only 11, was left to run wild. Stories abound of his mischievous behavior in the Tuscany region…in Florence, in the Mugello Valley. His companions were the low, the peasants and the gangs of the area. Giovanni committed his first murder—most likely a gang killing—at the age of 12.<br />
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The act was too egregious for Salviati to remain impassive. He called Giovanni to Florence and soon brought the youth to Rome when Salviati was appointed ambassador to that city. But the change of location did nothing to curb Giovanni’s violent proclivities. Salviati sent him back to Florence and enrolled him in military academy, hoping to put Giovanni’s aggressive tendencies to good use. It was a wise choice.<br />
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Called to Rome by the pope, Leo X, Giovanni’s cousin—the son of Lorenzo Il Magnifico de’ Medici and Clarice Orsini—Giovanni first became a <i>politiziotto</i>, a policeman, in Vatican City. But it was not long before Giovanni’s military prowess found him greater position and power. In March of 1516, Giovanni became a military captain of a cavalry with no less than one hundred men under his control. His captaincy began with a trial by fire. During the War of Urbino, the pope commissioned Giovanni and his men to strip the Duke of Urbino, Francesco Maria della Rovere, of his title and his lands. So great was the might of this cavalry, they defeated the duke in a mere twenty-two days.<br />
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Perhaps his resounding victory did much to raise Giovanni in the eyes of his one-time protector, Jacopo Salviati. In 1517, Giovanni married Salviati’s daughter, Maria. But married life and the birth of a child did little to slow Giovanni down.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge-YpYYcDtaZQihbuI_dnH247CidCu09toB_rSrjOjSgKxiregXfOJwah_tuOaLoLh-0GFwOMHT0ES4_y4vmHVqtR4TLvnSxXGCzozaMocwO4kfyOHSyKul8wLo_X50YqbYUIwQNrYFcHQ/s1600/giovanni+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge-YpYYcDtaZQihbuI_dnH247CidCu09toB_rSrjOjSgKxiregXfOJwah_tuOaLoLh-0GFwOMHT0ES4_y4vmHVqtR4TLvnSxXGCzozaMocwO4kfyOHSyKul8wLo_X50YqbYUIwQNrYFcHQ/s1600/giovanni+1.jpg" /></a>Now renowned as a great <i>condottiero</i>, Giovanni became a master at the new form of battle, creating masters of the men in his company. He instituted new methods of training, aiming for a compact, disciplined structure of offensive. Giovanni mounted his company on lighter, faster, quieter horses, making them lethal with stealthy ambushes. Even in regards to uniforms, Giovanni used thinner, lighter armor padded with black leather.<br />
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Giovanni’s training techniques were as intense as they were novel. Any man desiring entrée into his forces must already be adept at the use of weapons and combat on horseback. But that wasn’t nearly good enough for Giovanni. He pushed his men harder, made them deadlier. Those who excelled on the training field were rewarded; those who didn’t, those Giovanni called cowards and traitors were banished from camp, or worse, sentenced to death. His efforts did not go unnoticed or underutilized.<br />
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Giovanni and his men fought for Pope Leo against the French in 1521. In the same year, Pope Leo X died, a death that touched Giovanni deeply. In mourning and constant reverence, Giovanni added black stripes to his insignia, naming himself forever as Giovanni della Bande Nere (John of the Black Stripes). In 1522, he turned his weapons and fought on the side of the French. He then switched to the Emperor’s side in 1523 and defeated the Imperial and Swiss forces at Caprino Bergamasco in 1524.<br />
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Another cousin now sat on the papal throne, Clement VII, the once Giulio di Giuliano. Clement, still supporting his military cousin financially, ordered Giovanni to return his arms to those of the French. Giovanni did so in 1525. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSk1Tb9XNyhyphenhyphenBU6xGZLETVBpHiZUaRQlIL4wjPs0hKD9_ZpC4Ip913K0lcjJaSLcf8eHEzTk5Ja9BoodkAmJn48VYO-aGY87RqNJ-TyGstOSfZOPZysrHsS8zTNtuN7M2icG0K-t1egbH4/s1600/g+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSk1Tb9XNyhyphenhyphenBU6xGZLETVBpHiZUaRQlIL4wjPs0hKD9_ZpC4Ip913K0lcjJaSLcf8eHEzTk5Ja9BoodkAmJn48VYO-aGY87RqNJ-TyGstOSfZOPZysrHsS8zTNtuN7M2icG0K-t1egbH4/s320/g+1.jpg" width="242" /></a></div>
For this powerful, fearless man who made violence and war his life’s purpose, it was no great war or battle that brought about his demise, but a skirmish.<br />
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The War of the League of Cognac broke out in 1526. During an early scuffle, Giovanni was wounded in the thigh by a harquebus. Seemingly superficial at first, the wound refused to mend. With a few of his Black Band, Giovanni made for Venice and their superior physicians. Though he missed the famous Battle of Pavia, he re-entered the never-ending wars on Italian soil, appointed as Captain General of the Army Infantry Italian League.<br />
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On November 21, 1526, 12,000 German <i>Landsknechts </i>under the command of Georg von Frundsberg, marched on Venice, a force that had already overcome Venice’s Alpine defenses. Giovanni worked together with Francesco Maria della Rovere, Captain General of the League in Italy. Giovanni devised the plan…leave the French and the Swiss troops in front position while Giovanni and his Black Band, along with Rovere’s troops, rounded on the Germans, to attack from a different vantage point.<br />
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Rovere withdrew his troops under the onslaught of the <i>Landsknechts </i>in Milan. Giovanni and his band remained, attacking from the rear at the confluence of the Mincio and Po Rivers. His troops reigned triumphant, but not unscatched.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62_2WMxbGMrWMv0j5HA51DcjYCGCv1ja6-pgyL_8aK-Brw0Yg5d8ipUWaFXKVgod94VJXvyfvCDBcIeBC74xTLoJLtZQCV35ZcVjyKC-l7u2dmZ-hjHPhZSPvDfkmX1EM65JkeREEhyJH/s1600/g+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62_2WMxbGMrWMv0j5HA51DcjYCGCv1ja6-pgyL_8aK-Brw0Yg5d8ipUWaFXKVgod94VJXvyfvCDBcIeBC74xTLoJLtZQCV35ZcVjyKC-l7u2dmZ-hjHPhZSPvDfkmX1EM65JkeREEhyJH/s1600/g+2.jpg" /></a>At the very end of the battle, Giovanni was shot by a falconet, a wound that was thought to have <br />
shattered the femur in his right leg. Too much time passed as they transported Giovanni to Mantua and the home of his friend and fellow soldier Luigi Gonzaga. The delay rendered useless the expert treatment and eventual amputation of the limb by the renowned healer, Mastro Abramo.<br />
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His recovery is a moment captured in a letter from an eyewitness to the event, Pietro Aretino, who wrote to Francesco Albizi:<br />
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<i>“Not even twenty,” Giovanni said smiling, “could hold me,” and he took a candle in his hand, so that he could make light onto himself, I ran away, and shutting my ears I heard only two voices, and then calling, and when I reached him he told me: “I am healed,” and turning all around he greatly rejoiced.</i><br />
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Giovanni did, indeed, stand again. But the gangrene—or septicemia—was unstoppable. Giovanni knew his end was near, but he would not leave this world in bandages. Pulling them from his leg, he broke free and laid upon a camp bed. There he died on November 30, 1526.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96FW6H4vIiXYywg0gt2TpiltNpUlW9rlL0y5FFlD05qI_90qSZROE7p_0RLm-05Glo-mCWoqPjU7622xfSy5yGWQ5RPwu8TmJAf8Z1QFA-SfM0pIMn2MTxnYSO1ehYJjeUjAa-Cnw5Vn9/s1600/g+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96FW6H4vIiXYywg0gt2TpiltNpUlW9rlL0y5FFlD05qI_90qSZROE7p_0RLm-05Glo-mCWoqPjU7622xfSy5yGWQ5RPwu8TmJAf8Z1QFA-SfM0pIMn2MTxnYSO1ehYJjeUjAa-Cnw5Vn9/s320/g+3.jpg" width="240" /></a>In 2012, Giovanni della Bande Nere was exhumed, along with his wife, in an effort to preserve his remains. The exhumation showed no breakage of his right thigh, where the fatal wound was supposedly located. The bones of the lower leg were removed, but the femur itself showed no damage. The most convincing theory is that the wound itself was not fatal, but its infection was.<br />
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Not long after Giovanni’s death, his mode of battle was rendered obsolete by the introduction of the mobile canon. For this reason, Giovanni’s death is the metaphorical end of the great <i>condottieri </i>of Italy.<br />
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<br />Donna Russo Morinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04159064474348180030noreply@blogger.com0