Virtual Cover

I was goofing around the other day and made myself a cover for The Measure of SIlence. I'd been looking for a sixteenth-century portrait of a woman holding a book and was thrilled to find this one (although I didn't note the artist or title, and now I can't remember where I found it!). Anyway, I proceeded to cut off most of her head--otherwise no one would realize the book is a historical novel. *wink* I don't have an art program on my laptop, so just imagine my name and the title in the blue area in the upper left. Voilà. They say if you want to succeed at something, visualize yourself doing the thing successfully. We'll see how it works!

Literary Stocking Stuffers

There has been much internet talk about buying books as Christmas gifts in order to bolster the publishing industry. Lucy Pick has started a meme describing ten books she's enjoyed this year in order to give people ideas of books they might like to read themselves or buy for another. Here's my contribution to the effort:

Lawrence Hill, Someone Knows My Name: A beautifully written fictional account of the life of an African woman during the colonial era: her abduction by slave traders as a child, her harrowing journey to South Carolina and its indigo plantations, her escape to New York and relocation to Canada, and her eventual return to Africa and work with British abolitionists. I learned many new things about British involvement in both the slave trade and the abolition movement. The colonial timeframe is a nice change from the standard Civil War setting.

Vanora Bennett, Portrait of an Unknown Woman: Although I haven't finished this one yet, I'm finding it an engaging account of the interaction between the painter Hans Holbein and the family of Sir Thomas More, with an intriguing twist on the story of the Princes in the Tower. The depiction of sixteenth century life and thought is quite detailed and accurate.

Irene Nemirovsky, Suite Française: The interrelated stories of a vast cast of characters caught up in the German Occupation of France. Beautifully executed characters detailed from a wryly ironic perspective; the author explores human weakness and the heroic self-sacrifice in ways that makes both extremes sympathetic. 

Alice McDermott, After This: A lyrical account of the inner lives of the members of an Irish Catholic American family during the Vietnam War era. McDermott captures the dynamics of the large Irish Catholic family so perfectly as she charts the course of the various Keane siblings during a turbulent era.

R. J. Knecht, Renaissance Patron and Warrior: The Reign of Francis I:  A thorough account of the life and times of François I, who ruled for thirty-three years as the Renaissance blossomed in France. The author shies from a strictly chronological approach and organizes the material thematically within loose boundary dates. Well chosen photographs and artwork support the text, which introduces many major figures the sixteenth-century Europe. If you've always wondered when or why something happened in Renaissance France, this is the book to start with.

The other books I've loved this year I've already blogged about: Catherine Delors's Mistress of the Revolution, C.W. Gortner's The Last Queen, Michelle Moran's Nefertiti.  If I can remember others (why do I always go blank when someone asks me for book suggestions?) I'll add them to the list. 

Happy book browsing. I hope you find lots to like this season at your neighborhood bookstore!

It's Conference Time!

Exciting news: registration is now open for the Historical Novel Society North American Conference.

This year the conference will be held June 12-14 at the Hyatt Regency Woodfield in Schaumburg, IL. The guests of honor, both of whom will speak, are bestselling historical fiction novelists Margaret George and Edward Rutherford. Many other authors--among them Catherine Delors, Michelle Moran, C.W. Gordon, Diana Gabaldon, Anne Easter Smith and Lauren Willig--will be in attendance. The registration fee includes an opportunity for attendees to pitch to one of the agents or editors who come to the conference looking for new talent.

This conference is wonderful because it's open to all lovers of historical fiction: readers and writers, editors and agents. The panels are timely and informative, the entertainment high spirited, and the networking possibilities endless! Best of all, everyone there loves to talk about what you love best--historical fiction. The conference is limited to 300 registrants, so if you're interested, visit the registration site soon.

If you have any questions about the conference, I'll be happy to try to answer them. I attended the last conference in 2007 and have been counting the days until the next one.

See you in Schaumburg in June!

Talents, Rank and Beauty

Poking around on the web today, I found a wonderful site that reproduces exquisite color plates of French women's costume from the twelfth to the eighteenth centuries. The plates are taken from a collaborative work by eighteenth-century artist Louis-Marie Lanté and engraver Georges-Jacques Gatine entitled Galerie française de femmes célèbres par leurs talens, leur rang ou leur beauté (French Gallery of Women Famous for their Talents, Rank or Beauty), published in 1827. The author-artists are known, among other things, for recording French regional costumes of their era. The Galerie features "portraits" of many of the women featured here--Louise de Savoie, Queen Claude, Marguerite de Navarre, Madame d'Etampes, Catherine de Medici.... I'm trying to find out how accurate the costume portrayals are, but to first order they appear trustworthy. In any case, they're beautiful. I couldn't find any public domain images to post, so be sure to visit the site. Click on a thumbnail to view a larger version. The sixteenth-century columns and personalities begin with Queen Claude's mother, Anne de Bretagne, in the middle of the fourth row and continue through the eighth row and the court of Henri IV.

A Plum of a Queen: La Reine Claude

Despite his taste for forbidden fruit, François I felt true affection for his first wife, Claude de France (1499-1524). Claude's father, King Louis XII of France, betrothed her to François in 1506 when it became clear that Francois would inherit the throne. Claude's mother, Anne of Brittany, disapproved of the match--she was still hoping to produce a male heir herself--so the couple was unable to marry until Anne's death in 1514. François and Claude's marriage lasted ten years, until Claude died after a brief illness in 1524. Together they had seven children, five of whom lived past infancy.

Claude was plain, her body contorted by scoliosis--a stark contrast to the stunning women who surrounded François at court. Yet her sweet nature and pleasant conversation made up for her lack of physical beauty. A visitor to court described her thus: "The Queen is young and though very small in stature, plain and badly lame in both hips, is said to be very cultivated, generous and pious." He also noted that "It is a matter of common report that he [the king] holds his wife the Queen in such honour and respect that when in France and with her he has never failed to sleep with her each night."

Constantly pregnant or recovering from birth and by nature drawn to spiritual matters, Queen Claude withdrew from the hedonistic glamor of François's court. Her household, which included Anne Boleyn (Anne was the same age and probably served Claude as an English translator), spent most of the time in retirement at Amboise and Blois. Claude only rarely participated in public events, although she did appear, heavily pregnant, at the Field of Cloth of Gold, the famous meeting between François and Henry VIII of England at Calais in 1520. 

Claude died at Blois in 1524. François, who was a prisoner of Charles V at the time, mourned her loss and claimed "If I could bring her back with my life, I would gladly do so." Her body was embalmed and temporarily housed in the chapel at Blois. It was later moved to the Abbey of St. Denis in Paris in 1527 after François returned to France.

A great patroness of the art of the miniature, Claude commissioned two exquisite works, a Book of Prayers in 1511 and a Book of Hours in 1517. The Morgan Library and Museum has the entire Book on Prayers on virtual display here. The book, which fits into one's hand, is a stunning example of sixteenth-century devotional art. 

Today, a tribute to Queen Claude lives on in the "Reine Claude" plum, a richly flavored cultivar of the fruit introduced into France from Italy during François's reign and named after the queen. They are also known as "la bonne reine," "the good queen," plums, in honor of Claude's gentle disposition. 

(Sources: R.J. Knecht, Renaissance Warrior and Patron; E. Ives, The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn)

A NaNo Snippet

I can't resist. I'm so excited about the new novel I thought I'd share a snippet with you. Remember, it's an early draft, so don't judge too harshly. I hope you enjoy it.

I scrape away the globs of white with the palette knife and swirl a touch of blue onto my brush. Jamet will never equal Father in skill, of that I am certain. Whereas if Father would only give me a chance…

I should be thankful to be at court painting feathers and bows instead of scraping carrots in my mother’s kitchen, yet each day spent at Fontainebleau tries me past endurance. An army of artists slaves to transform this hunting lodge into the showcase of Europe, and all I can do is watch. Rasping saws and clanging chisels taunt me as I sit at Father’s desk, tallying accounts; whiffs of wet varnish, undercutting the reek of courtiers’ perfumes, entice as I arrange the fall of sitters’ skirts. Marble gods beckon for caresses as I cross the palace gardens toting Father’s paintbox; tumbling putti wave as I pass beneath cloud-swathed vaults with pails of water to launder chalk dust from Jamet’s sleeves. Knowing I’ll never plaster the garlanded frescoes or tint the stuccoed fauns eats at me like acid on an engraver’s plate. I shan’t even gild the “F’s” that monogram the paneled walls of the king’s grande galerie.

“Is it ready?” Jamet fills the doorway, blocking the light that streams in from the courtyard.

Finishing the last of the pearls, I don’t look up. “Father says she doesn’t expect it until next week.”

“Not the portrait. My bag.” I hear him grunt as he spies his leather satchel on the bench beneath the window. “I do hope you packed new chalk. That last batch of black splintered under the slightest pressure.” He clucks his tongue as though I fired the faulty charcoal myself, just to vex him.

Sibling rivalry takes on an entirely different dynamic when women's roles are severely circumscribed ...

The Right Tool for the Job

Not much writing to report, but my new Macbook arrived today! Can I rave? This machine is beyond awesome. No more clicking--just tap the mousepad. Scroll up or down pages with a two-fingered swipe of the pad. The glossy screen is crisp and clear. I'm sure there are many more amazing features I just don't know about yet. I'm trying to get everything set up quickly so I can get down to some serious work.

No more excuses for not writing, since no one is allowed to use this laptop but me. I no longer have to cede the desktop to high schoolers with homework and toddlers who want to play Curious George. I can escape the noise and the chaos and retreat into my imaginary world. It had better be a productive one, though, to justify the expense of creating it.

Off to write now...

Save the Publishers!

The book industry, like many others, is suffering from the economic downturn. Moonrat, the anonymous editor who gives authors wonderful advice at her website Editorial Ass, discusses the difficulties particular to publishing in this important post. Among other things, the situation is resulting in a reluctance on the part of publishers to take on previously unpublished authors. Moonrat explains what lovers of books can do to counteract these dangerous trends. Please be sure to read her post before you begin your holiday gift shopping!

Never Say Never

Just poking my head in during a quick break from writing. I'm so excited about my new book and how it's coming together. I'm surprised (astounded might be a better word!) to find myself doing two things I swore I never would--writing in first person and using present tense. I've always been partial, as a reader and a writer, to close third person as a narrative perspective. That's how I wrote Measure of Silence and I began writing this second book that way, too. But after a few thousand excruciatingly slow words, I found it just wasn't working. I fought making a switch out of principle, but since I have, words are flying off my fingers and the main character is showing me just how different she is from the protagonist of my first book. Writers are always called to challenge themselves, so I figure doing something out of the ordinary (for me, at least) can only help me grow. It doesn't hurt that first-person narratives are the popular ones these days in the genre (the novels of Michelle Moran, Catherine Delors, C. W. Gortner, and Lawrence Hill are all written in first-person).

As for my use of the present tense, which I've always viewed as an empty stylistic flourish--all I can say is this story insists on it, at least at this point. Whether I leave it in present or not, it's too early to tell.

I haven't abandoned third person all together. The way I envision it, sections from the main character's perspective will be in the first person, alternating with chapters from the secondary character's viewpoint in close third. I was wondering whether this sort of structure would fly when I began reading Vanora Bennett's Portrait of an Unknown Woman. Guess what? Bennett does exactly what I was considering. The chapters of her book told from Meg Grigg's point of view are in first, those from Hans Holbein's in third. I'll be in good company, it seems.

Do you, as readers of historical fiction, have preferences in regard to the use of first or third person? I'd love to hear what you have to say. Meanwhile, back to writing...

A Cover for Silver Phoenix

Isn't it gorgeous? This is the cover of Cindy Pon's novel, Silver Phoenix: Beyond the Kingdom of Xia, a YA fantasy novel to be published by Greenwillow/ HarperCollins in summer 2009. The jacket copy reads:

No one wanted Ai Ling. And deep down she is relieved—despite the dishonor she has brought upon her family—to be unbetrothed, free, and not some stranger’s subservient bride banished to the inner quarters.

But now, something is after her. Something terrifying—a force she cannot comprehend. And as the pieces of the puzzle start to fit together, Ai Ling begins to understand that her journey to the Palace of Fragrant Spring in search of her beloved father—missing these many months—is so much more than that. Bravery, intelligence, the will to fight and fight hard . . . she will need all of these things. Just as she will need the new and mysterious power growing within her. She will also need help.

It is Chen Yong who finds her partly submerged and barely breathing at the edge of a deep lake. There is something of unspeakable evil trying to drag her under. On a quest of his own Chen Yong offers that help...and perhaps more.

Cindy is thrilled with the cover--as well she should be!--and says she was kept abreast of the design process every step of the way. Her editor showed her mock-ups of the cover before they reached a final version. Photographers took 500 photos of the model in five different Chinese costumes! The amount of input Cindy had is unusual for a debut author and shows the confidence HarperCollins has in Cindy and her book.

Cindy said she'd be glad to answer any questions you might have about the cover itself or the process. Ask away! She did reveal on another forum that hair is very important in the story and she was happy the designers featured the model's long braid so prominently.

(In the context of our earlier discussions on cover art, I'm just glad the model got to keep her head!)

Congratulations, Cindy, on your amazing journey. I, for one, can't wait to read Silver Phoenix and share it with my daughter and friends.

Visit Cindy, learn more about her book, and view her own beautiful Chinese brush painting at cindypon.com

All Aboard!

So I've jumped on the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) bandwagon. I thought it would be a great way to forge ahead on Fontainbleau. I doubt I'll hit 50,000 words by the end of November, but I'd be more than happy to reach 30,000. 1000 words a day--4 typed pages. It's more than I'm used to writing (slow writer that I am), but if I push myself I should be able to do it.

Anyone else participating? I'm julianned on the NaNo website, if you'd like to friend me. We also have a thread running on Historical Fiction Online.

Happy writing! If you're watching from the sidelines, keep an eye on my FB wordcount over in the sidebar and prod me if I start falling too far behind, okay?

A Harrowing Journey, à la Sixteenth Century

Welcome to all those traveling today on the rounds of Angela Nickerson's Blogapolooza! Angela asked the thirty or so bloggers participating to recount a strange or scary travel journey. Try as I might, I could think of no harrowing journey of my own to share, so I decided to borrow one from Marguerite de Navarre . This is the opening to Marguerite's book of tales, The Heptameron (published in 1558, although composed during the 1540's). Flooded inns, washed-out bridges, drowned companions, lame horses, murderous bandits, hungry bears: it's enough to make one more than grateful for the comforts and relative safety of modern travel.

"On the 1st of September, when the baths of the Pyrenees begin to have efficacy, several persons from France, Spain and other countries were assembled at those of Cauterets, some to drink the waters, some to bathe in them, and others to be treated with mud; remedies so marvelous, that patients given over by physicians go home cured from Cauterets. [...] [A]s they were preparing to return home, there fell such excessive and extraordinary rains, that it seemed as though God had forgotten his promise to Noah that he would never again destroy the world with water. The houses of Cauterets were so flooded that it was impossible to abide in them. [...] [T]he French lords and ladies, thinking to return to Tarbes as easily as they had come from it, found the rivulets so swollen as to be scarcely fordable; and when they came to the Béarnese Gave, which was not two feet deep when they crossed it on their way to the baths, they found it so enlarged and so impetuous that they were forced to turn out of their direct course and look for bridges. These, however, being only of wood, had been carried away by the violence of the current. Some attempted to break its force by crossing it several together in one body; but they were swept away with such rapidity that the rest had no mind to follow them. They separated, therefore, either to look for another route, or because they were not of the same way of thinking...

"[A] widow of long experience, named Oisille, resolved to banish from her mind the fear of bad roads, and repair to Notre Dame de Serrance. [...] She met with no end of difficulties; but at last she arrived, after having passed through places almost impracticable, and so difficult to climb and descend, that notwithstanding her age and her weight, she was compelled to perform the greater part of the journey on foot. But the most piteous thing was that most of her servants and horses died on the way, and that she arrived with one man and one woman only at Serrance, where she was charitably received by the monks.

"There were also among the French two gentlemen who had gone to the baths rather to accompany the ladies they loved than for any need they themselves had to use the waters. These gentlemen, seeing that the company was breaking up, and that the husbands of their mistresses were taking them away, thought proper to follow them at a distance, without acquainting any one with their purpose. The two married gentlemen and their wives arrived one evening at the house of a man who was more a bandit than a peasant. The two young gentlemen lodged at a cottage hard by, and hearing a great noise about midnight they rose with their varlets, and inquired of their host what was all that tumult. The poor man, who was in a great fright, told them it was some bad lads who were come to share the booty that was in the house of their comrade the bandit. The gentlemen instantly seized their arms and hastened with their varlets to the aid of the ladies, holding it a far happier fate to die with them than to live without them. On reaching the bandit's house they found the first gate broken open and the two gentlemen and their servants defending themselves valorously; but as they were outnumbered by the bandits, and the married gentlemen were much wounded, they were beginning to give way, having already lost a great number of their servants. The two gentlemen, looking in at the windows, saw the two ladies weeping and crying so hard, that their hearts swelled with pity and love, and falling on the bandits like two enraged bears from the mountains, they laid about them with such fury, that a great number of the bandits fell, and the rest fled for safety to a place well known to them. The gentlemen having defeated these villains, the owner of the house being among the slain, and having learned that the wife was still worse than himself, despatched her after him with a sword-thrust. They then entered a room on the basement, where they found one of the married gentlemen breathing his last. The other had not been hurt, only his clothes had been pierced and his sword broken; and seeing the aid which the two had rendered him, he embraced and thanked them, and begged they would continue to stand by him, to which they assented with great good-will. After having seen the deceased buried, and consoled the wife as well as they could, they departed under the guidance of Providence, not knowing whither they were going.

"[...] They were in the saddle all day, and towards evening they descried a belfry, to which they made the best of their way, not without toil and trouble, and were humanely welcomed by the abbot and the monks. The abbey is called St. Savin's. The abbot, who was of a very good house, lodged them honorably, and on the way to their lodgings begged them to acquaint him with their adventures. After they had recounted them, he told them they were not the only persons who had been unfortunate, for there were in another room two ladies who had escaped as great a danger, or worse, inasmuch as they had encountered not men but beasts; for these poor ladies met a bear from the mountain half a league this side of Peyrchite, and fled from it with such speed that their horses dropped dead under them as they entered the abbey gates; and two of their women, who arrived long after them, reported that the bear had killed all their men-servants. The two ladies and the three gentlemen then went into the ladies' chamber, where they found them in tears, and saw they were Nomerfide and Ennasuite. They all embraced, and after mutually recounting their adventures, they began to be comforted through the sage exhortations of the abbot, counting it a great consolation to have so happily met again; and next day they heard mass with much devotion, and gave thanks to God for that he had delivered them out of such perils." (Excerpted from Walter Kelly's online English translation)

Several other of the original companions at the baths show up at the abbey, after having endured similar adventures; while waiting the twelve days necessary to construct a new bridge, the group amuses itself by telling and discussing tales of love--a most excellent activity for those inevitable dead hours that occur on every trip. If you're not one for telling tales yourself, you can read Marguerite's next time you're stuck in an airport somewhere. I assure you, lost luggage or a cancelled flight will no longer seem like a "harrowing travel adventure" when you're through.

A big thank you to Angela for inviting me to take part in her Blogapalooza. Be sure to visit her fabulous travel and book blog, Just Go!, and register for one of the three marvelous goodie bags she's giving away. You'll also find links to all the other blogs participating in the party. Please visit as many as you can and comment. I'm sure you'll be adding several of them to your blog roll.

Bon voyage!

A Second Unrealized Tudor Match

As I revealed in my last post, François's sister Marguerite d'Angoulême was offered as a child bride to the young Henry VIII of England. Fortunately for her, perhaps, she was rejected. Another match between the Tudors and the Valois--this one between François's second son, Henri, and Henry VIII's first daughter, Princess Mary--came much closer to fruition.

Mary was three years older than Henri, and discussions regarding the union of the two royal children grew serious around 1530, while the young prince was being held hostage by Charles V in Spain [subject for a post of its own]. The Peace of Cambrai (1529), which secured the ransom of François's sons, included a clause affirming the French-English marriage. But in October 1530, negotiations with England stalled, for two reasons: François suspected Henry VIII intended to use Henri as security for the debt François owed him, and secondly, questions over Mary's legitimacy were beginning to cloud the issue. Henry VIII was by this time seeking an annulment of his marriage with Mary's mother, Catherine of Aragon, and François feared marrying his son to a bastard. Negotiations did continue until 1532, but once the outcome of Henry VIII's suit became evident, François abandoned the match. Instead, he wed Henri in 1533 to Caterina Maria de Medici, the cousin (often called the niece) of Pope Clement VII. 

How would the match between Henri and Mary, had it occurred, have changed history? It's interesting to speculate. It doesn't seem as though it would have derailed Henry VIII from his quest to rid himself of Catherine of Aragon, since he continued with his suit even as he negotiated with France. What is interesting is what would have happened once Henri became Dauphin. At the time of the negotiations, he was only second in line to the French throne. However, his older brother François died in 1536. The couple would eventually have ruled both France and England. This surely would have had great repercussions on the playing out of the religious question in the two countries.

[Source: Henry II, King of France 1547-1559 by Frederic Baumgartner (Duke UP, 1988)]

A Pearl among Pearls: Marguerite de Navarre

Two posts ago, I told you about Louise de Savoy, the mother who concentrated all her energy and sacrificed her physical and personal freedom to ensure her son François became king. A third, equally devoted individual complimented this mother-son pair: François's older sister, Marguerite, the eventual Queen of Navarre. François and Marguerite maintained throughout their lives the close affectional bond nurtured during the childhood years they passed as virtual prisoners with their mother. Playing upon one of the meanings of her name, the king fondly--and proudly, given his sister's accomplishments--referred to her as "La Marguerite des marguerites," a pearl among pearls.

Marguerite was born in 1492, two years before François. Raised in enforced seclusion by their mother after their father died and François became the heir presumptive to the throne, Marguerite shared in the expansive humanist education Louise provided for her son. Tutored by the finest of scholars, she learned to read Latin and to speak Italian fluently. Her love of letters and learning remained constant throughout her life. As princess and queen, she supported writers and poets and animated literary circles at court. She herself wrote poems and plays and authored the Heptaméron,  a collection of tales and debates about love modeled after Boccacio's Decameron. The Heptaméron, one of the earliest works of prose fiction written in French, first appeared in print in 1558, although it circulated in manuscript form well before that.

Much of Marguerite's work is religious in nature, as she was a strong supporter of the burgeoning Protestant faith. Although she herself never broke with the Catholic church, she supported the early evangelicals Guillaume Briçonnet and Jacques Lefèvre d'Etaples, humanists who called for reform from within the church itself. She protected writers such as Clément Marot and Bonaventure Des Périers when they got into trouble with religious authorities. She invited Guillaume Farel to preach at her court in Nérac and corresponded with Jean Calvin. Several of her own works came under censure by the Sorbonne for their unorthodox religious content, although her proximity to the king protected her from punishment. It was primarily through her influence that François remained tolerant of the new faith for as long as he did.

When Marguerite was eleven, her mother had tried to marry her to Henry VIII, but was refused. Marguerite's one true love, Gaston de Foix, died a hero in the Italian wars in 1512. At seventeen, Marguerite was married to Charles d'Alençon in a political match; after he died a few years later, she wed Henri II, King of Navarre. She bore Henri a daughter, Jeanne d'Albret, in 1528; her only son, born when she was 38, died in infancy. Sister to one king, Marguerite became the grandmother of another: her daughter Jeanne's son Henri became King of France (as Henri IV) in 1589.

In addition to her learning and openness to new ideas, Marguerite de Navarre was known for her great charity and kindness. In her later years, she devoted herself to good works and provided education for poor children in her kingdom. Born two years before her beloved brother, she died two years after he did, in 1549. This "pearl among pearls" was indeed one of the most influential women of the Renaissance. Her poems, plays and prose allow us to witness the evolution of evangelical thought in France and provides us a vivid example of the curious mingling of the earthly with the divine that characterizes Renaissance culture.

If you'd like to read some of Marguerite's tales, you can find an English translation of the Heptaméron here.

100th Post!

This post is the hundredth post on Writing the Renaissance. When I began the blog back in January, I was worried that I wouldn't have anything to say. Somehow, that hasn't been a problem! I've been amazed at how subjects for posts often seem to fall in my lap just when I need them. I've found I have a lot to say, but unfortunately, not enough time to say it all. 

I've really enjoyed sharing my passion for historical fiction and the sixteenth century with you. I thank all my regular readers for their faith that I might actually say something interesting! I'm humbled and inspired that you return again and again to read and to share. I'd also like to thank authors Michelle Moran, C. W. Gortner, and Catherine Delors for graciously sharing their time and expertise by answering interview questions and participating in discussions. I have made many new friends in the historical fiction community since beginning this blog, and I value each and every one of them. Thank you all for welcoming me into the writerly blogosphere. I've had a wonderful time and look forward to participating for years to come.

In honor of the centennial, I'd like to open the post up to you. What do you like especially about the blog? What would you like to see more (or less) of? Should I expand the focus a bit or are you happy with the spotlight on France? I'm open to any and all suggestions--I want to keep this blog interesting for you, the reader.

And if you don't have any comments about the blog, I'm curious to know--what is it about the sixteenth century that draws you in? If you could go back to sixteenth century France for a day, what would you most like to see?

Thanks again for your support! I'm looking forward to reading your comments.