Vivika Widow's Blog, page 76
February 7, 2017
Conflict is about to erupt!
It’s a series that has been in the works for over a decade. I couldn’t be more excited to announce it is coming your way.
Set in the not so distant future, Conflict is a bold attempt to capture the global effect of war as seen from various angles, walks of life and cultures. It has been said that it the “political thrills are what captures the tension whilst the slight touches of science fiction offer a universe that is of epic proportions.”
But don’t just take my word for it or the words of the critics. Watch this space for updates, info and images from the highly anticipated graphic novel series, adapted from the award winning screenplay by Leo St Paul and my best selling novel ‘Fall of Freedom’.
With many sides to choose from, (each with their own heroes and villains) take your pick and prepare to battle.
Subscribe to this page and stay informed.
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January 19, 2017
Combating the Negativity
Being a writer can be a dream come true for most people. For many it can also be a nightmare. The very nature of the craft means that we are baring ourselves to public scrutiny and it won’t always be good. For some, this just comes as part of what to expect. However, it worries me that there are up and coming authors who have exciting, vibrant and much loved stories but the badgering they receive before they have even left the ground has put them off. There is nothing more tragic than a story that will never be told.
It does take a very thick skin to succeed as a writer but what chance do up and coming authors have when they are shot down at first attempt? All I can say to my fellow writers who are up and coming is don’t give up. Don’t let the negativity of others stop you. There will be readers who don’t like your book – that is unfortunate but all art forms are subjective. There will always be people who are just deliberately going out their way to be mean. The new digital age seems to have given them a platform to vent their poison to a wider audience. It is easier said than done but ignore them and let your writing speak for itself.
It’s a very true statement that an author can have one hundred great reviews but it is that one nasty one that will resonate with them. It is also true that people are more likely to be spurred into action (in this case writing a review) if they are feeling bad about it. How can you combat that? Trust in your own skill. Trust that you have written the book that you wanted to write. The rest will fall into place.
One thing that is also very upsetting to see is that authors (of various levels) are putting other authors down. The life is hard and alienating enough without us turning on each other. Why do that? Jealousy is the easy conclusion. They don’t like that someone else has written a book. There is no need to be jealous. The world is such a big place. There are so many different stories to tell and different ways of telling it. There is plenty of room in this world for all of us.
Support your authors. We are a large community but if you embrace it I’m sure you will see we are also a very loving one.
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Throw Back Thursday: The Launch of Myths and Tales
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I was incredibly proud of Myths and Tales Volume 1. I always loved short stories and poems so to write my own was a thrill.
First off the bat was the poem – THE MAN WHO WOULD NOT DIE. It was the first poem to be added to the collection and it was also the first that was ever read out loud to those who were kind enough to listen.
It is amazing to hear from readers who, after all this time, are still reading Myths. It is ambitious in that it caters for a variety of tastes and different genres so hopefully you can all find something enjoyable in it.
“The tried to rid of him, it took twenty tries,
For he was the man who would not die!”
Click HERE to read the full poem!
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January 17, 2017
A lesson in murder, kidnapping and beaut
A lesson in murder, kidnapping and beautiful music from a teacher with a sketchy past #thriller #maestro http://ow.ly/ZKVA3085Gc3
Well that got out of hand …
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Taking matters into your own hands can b
Taking matters into your own hands can be a bloody business #confessions #thriller #blackcomedy http://ow.ly/xp8b3085vcd http://ow.ly/i/qTQvl
January 10, 2017
We Need to Talk About Tracey
“Inmate 415. Name, Campbell. First name, Tracey,” announced the large burly officer with a pride that might have suggested he had apprehended her himself.
The professor looked over the thick, black rim of his spectacles. “Tell me a little about her. In your own words,” he requested as he poised a pen over paper preparing to take notes.
The burly officer knew this particular prisoner well. He had studied her as part of his training.
“She’s been in the Monte Fort prison for ten years now. Several of her anatomy classmates had went missing. Her student card was found at the scene of one of the crimes. When she was apprehended she admitted to five more murders. It seems she felt she could improve her chances of getting a better grade in class if she were to take out those who above her.
The professor had been writing vigorously. He stopped for a moment and looked up.
“In your experience of speaking with her, does she show any remorse?” he directed this question at the burly officer’s partner.
The petite, blonde haired, female officer offered a quick glance at her partner before answering the professor.
“It’s difficult to tell,” she said. “Miss Campbell can be very charming. She has made no secret of what she is capable of. She said that all she ever wanted was to become a doctor. Since there is no chance of that ever happening now she has turned her attention to writing which was another passion. She is taking her frustrations out in fiction now. I’ve read some of her notes. She’s actually quite good…” The blonde officer’s words trailed off at the end when she felt the stern gaze of her partner burn on the side of her face.
“From what I have read of her it seems to be a clear case of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. I can’t confirm this until I have examined her myself.”
The officers looked at each other. They shared a similarly nervous expression.
“She is up for parole in a few days time. We were hoping you could give us your opinion as to whether or not it is safe to let her go.”
Click HERE to read the full story
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January 9, 2017
Author’s Log: My Silly Little Confessions; part 5
So this is the week! It’s finally here!
I am so excited for Thursday and the release of My Silly Little Confessions.
With every book I finish it reminds of everyone who ever said, ‘You shouldn’t write’ ‘You could never become an author’. It is a relentless pursuit but a dream that is most definitely worth pursuing. It’s been over three years now since my first book was published and it has been the most incredible three years of my life.
I would like to say to all of my fellow authors out there who are still at the aspiring stage – GO FOR IT! Like a lot of careers in the media/arts it isn’t an easy one to get started in and it isn’t any easier to maintain but only you can decide on your limits. Your story deserves to be told just as much any other and I for one love to see the new and exciting plots heading my way from other readers.
No one can predict what the career will hold but that is the beauty of it. It is different for everyone. It is a way of life. It is in your blood. Shout your story from the rooftops because nothing could be sadder than a story that was never told.
Speaking of which, this particular new book of mine is available to pre order on kindle and paperbacks will be on the shelves on or shortly after the 12th. They are available via amazon, barnes and noble book stores, selected independent book stores and via vivikawidow.com.
I would also like to offer a gentle reminder that proceeds from My Silly Little Confessions will support the Ragdolls UK foundation who aid children and young adults suffering from genetic disorders. For more information on the projects visit ragdollscharity.com
Finally, a huge thank you to writers who have encouraged me, readers who have chosen me and social media friends from all round the world who inspire me on a daily basis.
Click HERE to pre order your kindle download! Available 12th January 2017
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December 19, 2016
The Bus Ride to Hell
I was a bad seed.
My whole life I wasn’t what one would call an angel. So it came as no surprise when I passed and death said,
“It’s Hell for you my dear friend Gus. You have been so bad you must take the bus.”
Not even the courtesy of a ride of a quick journey into the seventh circle for my eternal damnation.
So there I was, at the bus stop for the direct line to Hell. Torrential rain was falling and there was no shelter – although it did have the strong smell of urine that would normally accompany one.
Of course the bus was over an hour late. I was cold, miserable and just wanting to get to Hell already.
Death took some glee in my punishment.
“That’s what you get for being such a shit! You’re not going to like this, one little bit.”
The bus arrived. The most broken down, hideous piece of metal on four wheels you could ever hope to step aboard. The driver had a face so sour it could peel an onion.
“Get on!” he snapped. “I ain’t got all day.”
Death pushed me on board.
The seats were torn, broken and mostly filled with graffiti.
REG WAS ETERNALLY DAMNED ERE’
Death slumped beside me.
“I hope you are ready to press that bell. The next stop for you is the depths of Hell.”
Rude driver, broken chairs and a sticky floor you wouldn’t dream of touching. The bus to Hell was pretty bad. I think I’ve been on worse.
Enjoy this? Click HERE to read the full story!
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December 11, 2016
Knock, Knock Episode 15
It was late at night when a soft tap at my door stirred me awake. I hadn’t even realised I had fallen into the swamp of my dreams until I stirred awake.
I shuffled across the bare wooden floor. I opened the door and Dennis was stood in the shadows like a great ominous bird.
“If you are going, you have to go now,” he said.
I pulled a pair of over sized boots on. My coat hung on a stand by the door. I pulled it off and the coat stand came with it. Dennis snatched it before it toppled completely.
“Quiet,” he warned in a screaming whisper.
I was silent and still a little sleepy. Dawn’s early light was beginning to show.
I followed Dennis down into the main body of the club.
“Promise me you will find Milo,” he urged.
I nodded my head dumbly. At any other time I would have said something along the lines of, “the boy will come to no harm under my charge,” but I was so taken aback by finally leaving the Knock, Knock club I couldn’t find the words. We made our way across the shaky floor. Freedom was imminent. The outside air was going to be so crisp and so sweet.
A lock shuffled. A door handle shook. Dennis pushed me back from the main door . At the farther end, by the stage a little girl came skipping. She was followed by Tabitha.
“Now take a seat,” said Tabitha. The little girl – Sarah – obeyed. She pulled out a chair and sat at a table nearest the stage.
“Would you like some ice cream?” Tabitha asked. She leaned closer with a warm but mischievous smile.
The little girl wrinkled her nose. “I’m not allowed ice cream for breakfast.”
Tabitha’s smile widened like a great python ready to strike. “You are here.”
The kid’s eyes lit up then. It was like she had been told her birthday was coming twice that year. She had no idea the danger she was in. Her life was in the hands of Tabitha and if I left the little girl would surely die. If I stayed I could do something to keep her alive.
“See,” Tabitha continued. “It’s not so bad here is it? All that crying earlier was for nothing.”
Sarah agreed.
Tabitha crossed the floor towards the bar, behind which lay the kitchens. As she passed she muttered to Dennis, “Watch her.”
She stopped and did a double take when she noticed I was wearing boots and a coat.
“Going somewhere are we?” she laughed.
I knew then I wasn’t.
When Tabitha was out of sight Dennis pushed me back towards the door.
“Go now. Hurry!” he said.
“I can’t,” I stated. “If I go now you could get hurt or that little girl.”
Dennis growled. “What about Milo?” You said you would help him.
“I did and I will,” I said. “But before I do I have to make sure no harm comes to that kid. You told me that if I left they would be watching me. I could lead them straight to Milo. That would be two dead kids on my conscience. Right now, Tabitha doesn’t know Milo is near. He is safe.”
I couldn’t believe my own sentiments. Since arriving at the club I had been seeking a way to escape its grasp. Seeing Sarah changed everything in an instant.
Although no one had ever said the words I was a prisoner at the Knock, Knock. If Dennis were to orchestrate my leaving, they would kill him, the little girl and then hunt me down. I couldn’t risk it. At least not yet.
Dennis stormed away. I could understand his frustration. I had been pushing him to help me. I even threatened to tell the club about his son if he didn’t. I didn’t have any time to worry about that. The only reason I was still alive was because my grandfather was one of the club’s founding members. I was walking a very thin line as it was.
Tabitha returned with an over flowing bowl of strawberry ice cream.
“Changed your mind?” she laughed when she saw I was pulling my coat off
“I was just a little cold. I’m fine now,” I replied.
“That’s just as well,” said Tabitha. “You would have been dead before reached the end of the alley. Do you think it would be so easy as to walk out the front door? Even if Dennis opened that door for you? And without so much as goodbye? A girl could be insulted.”
She dropped the plate of ice cream down to the little girl. She gripped the spoon and immediately set to digging in.
“Don’t hurt her,” I warned for as much use as it could be.
Tabitha raised her eyebrows. “What kind of monster do you think I am?”
We paused. Tension rose. Her steel grey eyes stared right through me. Then her teeth began to tear through her ruby lips as a smile spread.
“It all really depends on her father cooperating now doesn’t it.”
When I first came to the Knock, Knock I was an enthusiastic journalist in search of a new story line. I had no idea the nightmare that lay behind the closed doors. Now, I was in deep. As the bodies began to pile around me I had to do something.
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