Vincent Zandri - My Muse Florence: An Italian Travel Journalism Single

PRAISE FOR VINCENT ZANDRI

Sensational... masterful... brilliant.

New York Post

My fear level rose with (Scream Catcher) like it hasn't done before. Wondering what the killer had in store for Jude and seeing the ending, well, this is one book that will be with me for a long time to come!

Reviews by Molly

I very highly recommend this book... It's a great crime drama that is full of action and intense suspense, along with some great twists... Vincent Zandri has become a huge name and just keeps pouring out one best seller after another.

Life in Review

A thriller that has depth and substance, wickedness and compassion.

The Times-Union (Albany)

I also sat on the edge of my seat reading about Jude trying to stay alive when he was thrown into one of those games... Add to that having to disarm a bomb for good measure!

Telly Says

a gripping psychological thriller that will keep you riveted on the edge of your seat as you turn the pages.

Jersey Girl Book Reviews

This book is truly haunting and will stay with you long after you have closed the covers.

Beth C., Amazon 5-star review

"The action never wanes." --Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinal

"Gritty, fast-paced, lyrical and haunting." --Harlan Coben, bestselling author of Six Years

"Tough, stylish, heartbreaking." --Don Winslow, bestselling author of Savages

My Muse Florence

The first time I came to Florence it was for love. At least, being in love was the plan since I was on my honeymoon with my first wife. This is back in the late 1980s when I harbored the insane idea that getting married right out of college would be the fun thing to do. Barely in our twenties (I couldnt even grow a beard yet), we returned Stateside from the honeymoon to no money, mounting bills, and misery. I was a young writer looking for his start which no one would give me, or so it seemed at the time, and it didnt take too long for my wife and me to realize our major mistake. She went her way and I packed up my bags, went straight on to writing school.

The second time I came to Florence with a woman I loved was in the late 1990s. It was a crazy time for me then since I was trying to find out how many different ways I could piss away a $250K advance from Delacorte Press for the publication of my first big book, The Innocent (formerly titled, As Catch Can ). Despite my partying like a rock star (and even playing drums in my editors band, Straw Dogs), the book would go on to sell a ton of copies over three editions. But the marriage, alas, would not fare so well. As much as I loved my second wife, she could not compete with the love I had for words and the nomadic writing life. We split up, but I never stopped loving her.

The third time love brought me to Florence was in the late 2010s. This time the love interest was an artist and art professor from New York. It was her first time in the Renaissance city and I recall leading her by the hand down the narrow Via Faenza all the way to where the Via Zannetti ends at the Via De Cerretani and the Piazza Del Duomo. I asked her to close her eyes while we inched our way out into the piazza. When I told her to open them, the first thing she saw was the marvelous white and green marble of the massive cathedral. I thought she would pass out from shock. In any case, she cried real tears over the experience. I must admit, I too became choked up at her come-to-Jesus reaction. Three months later she broke off the relationship without warning.

So when it comes to Florence and love, I guess you could say Im three and out. Or, in the words of my publicist, Ive come to expect the unexpected.

I havent always come here for love however. Ive been coming to Florence for a number of years now to work. Initially, it seemed like a good place to base myself back when I was writing for RT , and some other global news and trade outlets. I might travel on assignment to West Africa or Moscow, and then instead of heading back to the States and locking myself in my one bedroom apartment, I found it much nicer to work out of romantic Florence. Unlike my love life, Florence always seemed to work like a lucky charm for me when it came to my writing.

I recall just three years ago, I was here working on some stories for RT when I got word that the then Governor of New York declared that the Empire State was going to go bankrupt in just two weeks time. It was late in the day and Id already started on a cold beer when I quickly pitched the story to my editor out in Gorky Park. She approved it, giving me just a couple hours to research and write it. Somehow I managed to deliver the piece in just under an hour and half. That night it was the lead story in Eastern Europe. Dumb luck? Or did Florence have something to do with it?

After that experience as a freelance journalist, I kept coming back to Florence for longer and longer stays. This time as a novelist. Since 2008 Ive managed to write at least three novels here. These include my two Florence thrillers, Blue Moonlight (Yes, theres a rooftop chase scene atop the Duomo) and The Shroud Key (The main character is a writer/adventurer who lives in New York and Florence and whos always in trouble with the ladies Go figure!). Presently Im here completing the first drafts of two new novels. Moonlight Weeps and a new stand-alone, The Breakup . Ive been here only a week, but thus far, Im ahead of schedule.

If I had to put my finger on it, I really couldnt tell you why Florence works for me as a writer. My life here isnt all that much different from my life back in New York. I get up, make the coffee, sit down at the computer and, in the words of Papa Hemingway, bite on the nail. Towards noon Ill get in a run and/or a visit to the gym. Then Ill write until maybe five oclock at which time Ill head to a favorite local watering hole for a beer or two. My adopted local tavern in Florence is the Fiddlers Elbow in the Piazza Santa Maria Novella. Like they do when I walk into my favorite bar in New York, the barflies will welcome me with a Hey Vin! On occasion someone will ask me if I won the war of words today. Ill usually respond with, Ive won the battle, but never the war.

So then, why do I keep coming here, year after year? Is it the coffee, the food, the wine, the way the rain-soaked stones in Piazza Della Repubblica glisten from the bright lights that shine down on them from the revolving carousel? Maybe its never being sick of walking past the Florence Cathedral and seeing the larger than life stone chiseled faces of Cambio and Brunelleschi, the former looking dejected in his failure to engineer a proper dome for the structure, the latter looking upwards at his crowning achievement. Perhaps its the way the mighty Arno makes you feel when you walk along its banks, the heavy brown-silted water making its way towards Pisa and eventually, the sea. Or maybe its simply the art. For Florence is a living museum. Its all about the art.

Sure, Florence isnt without its faults. Its full of mosquitoes and drunks who walk the streets in the middle of the night wailing indiscernible words to no one in particular. There are hordes of tourists especially in the summer and early fall months. Its certainly not the cheapest place in Italy. All I know is that every time I come here, I can depend upon something good happening to my career. Two years ago I spent the much of the summer here with my son, Harrison, who is now also a writer. During our stay I got a call from my agent. Hed landed me a seven book deal with Thomas & Mercer along with a very nice advance. And just a day after I landed here last week, he sent me an email telling me hes working on a possible movie deal for my standalone literary thriller, The Remains .

So the luck continues, but not the love. Or perhaps Im wrong about that.

You might recall the second wife I mentioned just a few paragraphs ago. The one I left but whom I still loved? Shes coming to see me for the holidays. Turns out, were giving our love another try. Or, in the context of this thread, were rewriting our story together. A small part of that story will once again take place in Florence. Its true that this ancient city of art and inspiration will always be my writing muse. The one place I can count on for providing me with strings of sentences, paragraphs, and polished pages. But it will never take the place of finding true love. True love is where the heart is. It knows no bounds, no limits, no geography. It certainly cant be pointed to on a map or discovered in a travel magazine. Love just is.