Vivika Widow's Blog, page 77
December 7, 2016
Leaving it Behind; Adapted from Vivika Widow’s Red Snow
It has been done. I have left it all behind. The last sight I had of my kin was of them burning, begging for it to be ended. Still pleading with me to stay with them. It was disgusting.
My lover still claimed me to be the one for him. I removed the heart from his chest. The blood was still warm as I devoured it. So great was my fury that they tried to stop me and greater was my horror at what the love of the king had made me see.
Tessa, the eternal child, was the last to speak. A curse she warned me of. That was laughable. Her power could never match mine for I was queen and only an immense power could keep them in check. I possessed that immense power. She quipped about a plague that would follow me to my new home and a tragedy that would befall all those who crossed my path.
She said my new husband would be driven insane by the images of what I had done. My misdeeds would forever flood his fragile mind. She said that food would spoil rotten in my mouth, my skin would burn at the touch of silk and any children produced from my marriage would suffer from cradle until they begged for death.
She doesn’t frighten me. She will be forever in the form of a child because of the power I hold over her.
My home has been reduced to ashes in my wake. The evil of its people forever banished.
November 28, 2016
Instrument of choice; Adapted from Vivika Widow’s Maestro
“Mr Baines! Mr Baines!” the little boy came running to the door to greet him. “I’ve been practicing.”
“That’s good,” said Vincent as he crossed over the threshold and into the warm mansion home of the Peterson family.
“I’m getting much better,” added the little boy with pride.
Vincent sat his violin case down. “Glad to hear it.”
He doubted it. Oliver Peterson had been struggling with the same piano piece since lessons began four months before hand. He was a cute kid but he lacked the musical ability his mother had expected from him. He couldn’t fault his enthusiasm though. Oliver’s twin brother, Osmond, on the other hand had shown great promise on the cello.
Vincent felt long fingers grip his shoulders.
“Can you stay an extra hour this evening? The ladies are coming round and I would love to hear them play.”
‘So I can take responsibility if they sound awful?’ Vincent thought to himself.
“Of course,” he replied. As their teacher it really was his responsibility anyway.
Most of the families in the mansion houses of Filton had staff to clean, cook and perform all other domestic chores. Mrs Peterson took pride in controlling these things with her own hands, whilst still finding time to head several charity committees, social chairs and school societies.
“I’ll leave you to it,” said Mrs Peterson as she dashed off to retrieve something from the oven.
Vincent followed Oliver to the music room. Osmond was seated on the stool holding his cello. He wore the white shirt and grey trousers of his school uniform but he was barefooted. Oliver sat at the piano and started pushing the keys with no melody in mind.
The identical boys in different poses seemed surreal. The features were the same but the expressions different. Their chosen instruments were different. Their sounds were different. Their screams would crescendo through the hallways of the large mansion house like an echoing choral of a tragic opera.
***
“Why do you feel that way?” asked the professor.
Vincent leaned back in the chair. It rocked a little. It gave a grudging squeak as he reached both hands up above his head and rested them on top, smoothing the brown curles beneath.
“Those two little boys have a world of Hell coming their way.”
The professor showed no emotion. “Why is that?”?
“I can just tell. I can hear it every time I see them.”
Click HERE to read the full story
November 14, 2016
Authors Log: My Silly Little Confessions; Part 4
Its the final stretch. Soon the full completed manuscripts for My Silly Little Confessions will be under the scrutiny of my editor, Emma, for the very first time. Before the final book is released onto the shelves of Barnes and Noble, Amazon and selected other book stores it will be torn apart, changed, battered and beaten until it is agreed that it is as good as it is ever going to get.
What concerns me most in this part of the process is that it is past the point of no return. Every author has their own system and each publishing house has their own methods but for me and my own making major plot changes are long gone. The story will now unfold as I have written it. Sure there will be changes to some dialogue, grammar correction and all the little window dressings that will make the book the finished product but for all intents and purposes there will can’t be any more major changes to the overall plot. YIKES!
That being said its also a very exciting time in the creative process. The emotions that I’m feeling right now are akin to a parent preparing to send their child off to college. I am aware of how dramatic that might sound but I believe there is only one way to approach a book and that is with your whole heart and that means they are treated like my children.
There is still a long road to go from now until January 12th but the major bulk of the task is done.
For those of you who haven’t read the short story ‘Confessions of an Anatomist’ in the ‘Myths and Tales’ Volume 1 collection I am very much looking forward to you meeting Tracey Campbell. For those of you who have read the short and are already familiar with her – you haven’t seen anything yet!
Available January 12th. Preorders Available 20th November.
Click HERE to read the short story that started it all. Confessions of an Anatomist – Part of the Myths and Tales collection.
November 10, 2016
My Silly Little Confessions – A sneak peek!
My Author On the Go
Joanna Kipling, best selling author of the Fantastical Freedom series, relished being the lime light. She loved being stopped on the street and begged for her signature. She couldn’t understand the glitzy movie types who got angry at being approached by their adoring fans.
What was life without a little lime light to stand under? That was her motto. That was of course until she had a stark raving lunatic murderer after her. She must have missed the memo that would have told her that stealing the idea of an up and coming writer would be enough to turn anyone into a stark raving, lunatic murderer. I know she most definitely missed the memo that would have told her that a girl who was willing to off most of her classmates in order to put herself on the honours board wouldn’t think twice about an author who not only offered her help when she had no intention of doing so but also thrived on the genius ideas of others.
Be that as it may, Joanna must have been faster on the uptake than I gave her credit for. She had commitments to honour, signings, appearances and the likes but she knocked it all on the head and decided to get out of town quickly. She had family in the coastal village of Millefort. She hadn’t spoken to them ever since her first publishing deal. She hadn’t mentioned them to any press or even to any friends. Nancy, who took pride in knowing everything about her author didn’t even know about them.
They were two elderly aunts on her mother’s side. They sent her a Christmas card every year, wishing her success but she didn’t return to them. She was far too busy and far too successful to feel bad about it. Her plan was to turn up unannounced on her the doorstep of the two old women and beg for sanctuary. She grabbed copies of her books. She had to dig through the bag of mail she had stored away under the stairs to check she had their names properly.
‘To Ethel, from your niece Joanna,’ she scribbled on the first. She checked the other one. ‘To Maureen, best wishes, your niece Joanna.’ The books would serves as payment for boarding her for a few days. No one would know where she was. No one would be able to get to her.
The hour was late and she knew her land lord’s agency would be closed. She called and left a message to tell them that she was called out of town for a few months at short notice and was leaving her house vacant. She then called Nancy.
“Nancy speaking,” came the gruff voice of the agent. Joanna should have known Nancy would have been working late. She always did because she couldn’t stand the company of her husband.
“It’s Jo,” Joanna looked at her watch. She wanted to leave her car behind too so everything would seen in place. She couldn’t risk her bright yellow sports vehicle being followed. She had thirty minutes to reach the train station that would take her fifteen by her reckoning.
“What is it Jo?” Nancy prompted after a few moments silence. “I’m busy here.”
“I’m going to stay with family for a little while. I don’t think it’s safe for me here and the police won’t do anything about it.”
She heard Nancy groan with impatience. “You know, I always thought actors were drama queen’s but you are outdoing the lot of them.”
That could have been Nancy’s attempt at joke. Her tone was always one of impatience so it was difficult to tell.
“I’ll be in touch. Cancel all my appearances for the next couple of months.”
“What family are you going to?” asked the agent.
Joanna closed the call without answering. Rain was beginning to lash against the window. She pulled on a heavy coat that hung on the peg by the door since the summer. She clasped a small suitcase on wheels that carried as many of her belongings as she could manage.
The rain and cold slashed at her face. The door click locked behind her as she pulled it closed. She bid farewell to her home, not knowing how long it would be before she returned.
She dragged her suitcase into the night, pleased with herself that she was making an escape. Unbeknown to her, someone was waiting in the dark. As she trudged towards the train station, they followed her.
My Silly Little Confessions will be available January 12th 2017. Available for pre order from November 20th 2016.
AVAILABLE NOW! The short story Confessions of an Anatomist! Click HERE to read.
November 7, 2016
Authors Log: My Silly Little Confessions: Part 3
Call it writer’s fatigue, call it brain melt. This week I have been circling around the ending to My Silly Little Confessions but to no avail.
“Take a step back,” some suggested.
This is very sound advice but when you are already running over your time for rewrites it tends to make this little author nervous.
It’s not all gloom and doom though. I received a huge shot of motivation in the form of an exciting new piece of cover art. Nothing is more thrilling for an author than seeing their writing come to life in the form of images and what an image it is!
Simple, yet effective like most of the cover art that has been supplied to my books from the talent at Torrance Media. I was like a kid at Christmas when I opened my email to find a new one in my inbox titled, ‘NEW COVER ART’. Opening up and downloading the image was akin to ripping off the shining wrapping paper. With the new image in hand (and screen saver changed) it was time to get back to it.
Every author has their own methods. You can teach someone the basics of how to write a book but finding their own system. Creativity is fluid in nature and it can fill containers of all different shapes and sizes. I myself prefer to write late at night when my little household is asleep. It’s my chance to concentrate with less chance of being disturbed by a ringing telephone or the arrival of new emails. Dark, silent and with only the glow of the computer screen to guide me I immerse myself in the story. A quiet little cafe works equally as well. It has been the natural habitat of an author for decades.
So there are two months to go! I am nervous and excited in equal measure for My Silly Little Confessions to hit the shelves.
Are you an author? What’s your methods?
Click HERE to read the short story Confessions of an Anatomist. Part of the Myths and Tales Collection.
November 6, 2016
Knock, Knock Episode 14
“We are still having problems with him,” I overheard Tabitha tell Dennis as I sat at the bar sipping a whiskey quietly.
“What do you want me to do about it?” Dennis leaned back further along the bar from me.
Tabitha didn’t seem to care if I was listening. She knew I was pretty powerless against the whims of the Knock, Knock club. Dennis was pretty guarded though. He had asked for my help in getting his ten year old son, Milo, to safety in exchange for his helping me escape the Knock, Knock club so he always kept me discretely informed. After luring my best friend, Madeline, to the club and to her death I wasn’t sure how much help I was willing to give him, even if it were for the sake of an innocent child. Still, I had to keep my options open.
“I don’t think you understand how big a problem this is,” said Tabitha sternly to the club manager. “He isn’t taking us seriously and if we let him away with it others will think they can get away with it too.”
“So what do you suggest?” Dennis hadn’t looked looked at her the whole time. His focus had been on the empty stage behind her. “Take him out?”
Tabitha laughed, a cold, callous cackle. “What benefit would he have to anyone dead?” She pursed her lips and her grey eyes shone with delight. “He has a daughter. Young girls are your speciality.”
Dennis sighed. “What age?”
“Six or seven,” answered Tabitha.
Dennis shook his head. His eyes finally rested on her for a few moments before he stood up straight, turned his back to her and leaned over the bar.
“Far too young,” he stated definitely. “The kid isn’t her father’s problem.”
“No but her father is our problem. He needs to know we aren’t messing around.”
“Maybe Sam could do it,” Dennis suggested.
They book looked at me. I almost spat the whiskey out like I had been caught doing something I shouldn’t have.
Thankfully, Tabitha dismissed the idea.
“He hasn’t the stomach for it. Besides, if the doors of the Knock, Knock were open to him do you really think he would come back?”
She cackled again. “Like everything else, if I need a good job done I will just have to do it myself.”
***
It was a pleasant enough day with a dry chill in the air. The Coldridge Park in the centre of the city was playing host to hundreds of children playing, their parents and chaperones standing close by, perhaps not paying as much attention as they should have been.
Tabitha sat alone on a wooden bench. She scanned through the crowd and spotted the little girl she was looking for.
Blonde pigtails, blue jeans and a pink sweatshirt with a sunflower logo, Sarah looked like something straight out of a children’s book. She was kicking a red ball back and forth, giggling excitedly as a golden retriever chased it. A boy in his early teens, her brother Kevin, was busy talking on his phone. He had his back turned to his sister. One hand was holding the all important conversation to his ear and the other was tucked into the pocket of his own sweatshirt.
“Rufus!” screamed a woman’s voice across the park.
The ears of the golden retriever perked up at the sound of his mistress’ voice. It took one last look at the shining red ball but quickly decided obedience was more important. It trotted along towards the voice that called it.
Sarah gave the ball another kick and it came rolling towards the bench. With a foot clad in a purple velvet, kitten heel shoe, Tabitha stopped it. As Sarah drew nearer she began to hesitate.
“You need to be careful,” Tabitha said to the little girl. “You wouldn’t want to lose your ball now would you?”
Sarah picked it up and hugged it close to her chest. “It’s my brother’s ball,” she admitted.
“Well you don’t want to make him mad do you? Losing his ball?”
Sarah nodded in agreement. “He’s going to take me for ice cream,” she volunteered casually.
Tabitha looked up. The boy was still on the phone. “That’s nice but it looks like he is still busy.”
It was Sarah’s turn to look back. She had so been looking forward to a bowl of strawberry ice cream.
“Why don’t we go and get the ice cream and maybe he’ll be done by the time we get back.”
Sarah stepped back. Alarm bells began to ring for her. “I can’t go away with strangers.”
“Very wise indeed, but I’m not a stranger,” said the woman with the grey eyes. “I know you, Sarah, and your brother’s name is Kevin. Your dad and I are old friends.” Sarah still looked at her suspiciously. “My name is Tabitha, so now we are friends.”
Kevin was still paying no attention. He was in the midst of on of those dramas that only teenagers can understand.
‘It can’t be bad,’ thought Sarah. ‘A stranger wouldn’t know my name,’ was her childish logic. Besides, the strangers she had been warned against were men in dark clothes who drove white vans and smelled of alcohol. The woman she was talking too had a kindly, round, maternal face. Her smile was pleasant, with a gap in her front teeth. She carried the scent of vanilla. The ice cream parlour was just across the street.
“We had better hurry before it closes!” Tabitha reminded her.
Sarah made up her mind. “Kevin likes mint,” she said.
Tabitha stood and took the little girl’s hand. “I know he does,” she said. “We’ll get him a big bowl.”
Kevin finished his phone call. He slipped his phone into his pocket. He turned to discover little Sarah was gone. The shiny red ball sat on an empty bench.
Enjoy this?
Catch up from the beginning:
Knock, Knock; The Story So Far EPISODES 1- 10
November 5, 2016
A Last Bid for Mercy
My dearest uncle,
I beseech you. I have written thrice before and have yet had no response. I hear that your kingdom is in turmoil. I long to help you bring the traitors to justice but if I leave my post they will execute me for desertion.
Three days ago, in the early morning, I was given a notice that I am accused of treason. This suggestion that I have led the rebellious forces against you was signed by your own hand. I have spent my life being nothing but loyal to you as my uncle and as my king. Just say the word and let me return home safely. I will find the ones spitting poison into your ears and I will have their heads.
Should you decide that my death is necessary just remember, my mother loved you. She took her own life because she couldn’t be with you and the idea of the separation was too much for her to bare.
I hear that the one they call Annabelle now rules beside you. Be wary of her, for she has the eyes of a hawk and the tongue of a viper. A darkness follows her, the likes of which I have never seen.
Should I never see you again please know that I went to my death continuing to proclaim my innocence.
Your loving and devoted nephew.
Charles
Enjoy this? Click HERE to read the full story
November 4, 2016
The beloved king and his descent into madness
Beloved by his people, King Roman was a benevolent and kind ruler. He treated his people fairly. His council warned him that he should take a wife. They told him that the crown was a heavy burden and required a queen to carry. Navaria rejoiced when he married Francesca from the little known village of Vorelia. Three children were borne – James (the eldest and first in line for the throne), Edward (the middle child) and the little Princess Charlotte.
It seemed bliss for the ruling family until Francesca fled one day, her beaten body found at the bottom of the steep slope in the Rugintov Mountains. Roman had lost his true love and he quickly lost his mind. He married Francesca’s maid servant, ordered the death of his favourite nephew Charles and turned the others away as his kingdom fell to ruin. He descended from the powerful and noble man to an empty vessel.
Some claimed the grief had broken an already fragile mind. There were also whispers of a curse placed upon the king. Some even said it was the same curse that caused Francesca to flee and that caused Annabelle to disappear from view, leaving Castle Kroestov in the hands of a heartless Lord Vasinov.
Click HERE to read the full story
You can also check out other stories on this blog!
Extract from Vivika Widow’s ‘Red Snow’
November 3, 2016
Throw Back Thursday – Uddingston Music Fest
Back in February 2015 Vivika was invited to open the annual Uddingston Music Festival with some readings at the Uddingston Library.
A great day was had with recitals of the favourite, ‘Princess and the Beetle’ and ‘The Knight and his Horse’ both from the Myths and Tales series.
It was all capped off with a reading of the opening to Rogue Battalion which went down very very well.
Vivika stated that, “It was an absolute delight to attend, and an honour to be asked to attend.”
Check out Uddingston Music Festival which runs in the area each year with lots of fun for all ages.
November 2, 2016
10 things you didn’t know about Maestro
1 – CHARACTER CROSSOVER
Maestro features appearances of characters from various other Vivika Widow stories, including Sam Crusow from the Knock, Knock series and Tracey Campbell from Confessions of an Anatomist. Can you spot them all?
2 – THE DESCENT INTO MADNESS
The main character, Vincent Baines, hadn’t always been written as strange as he was. As the story unfolded Vivika Widow decided to take him on a descent into madness leading to the stories explosive conclusion.
3 – MERGING STORY LINES
When pitching thriller ideas to the publishing firm, Vivika Widow offered them three different stories. Each of them were so well liked the three were combined creating the entire body of Maestro.
4 – A LOVE OF MUSIC
Vivika loves music but she can’t play any instruments. She allowed her love of music to flow into Vincent. Vincent wasn’t the first time that Vivika Widow’s desire to play had fallen onto one of her characters. Thomas (Red Snow) was the first.
5 – GOOD AND EVIL
No one is inherently good. At least they are not in Maestro. There are lots of people who have questions to answer over the fate of some of the young characters. Repentance? Don’t expect any anytime soon in this dark, melancholy tale.
6 – VINCENT’S SEXUALITY
Prior to writing Maestro, Vivika Widow had been hearing that many of her author friends were receiving abuse and poor reviews due to their use of LGBT characters. In protest Vivika decided to give Vincent a live in boyfriend whilst he still obsessed over an old girlfriend. Her protest paid off because this scenario offered a new dimension to the story overall and now we can’t see Vincent being any other way.
7 – A STORY TOLD THROUGH MUSIC
Throughout the story Vincent is conducting a new piece of music. As each new piece is added it tells a story. If you piece all those little bits of story together it reveals a little fairy tale which is astonishingly like Red Snow.
8 – IN THE BEGINNING AND AT THE END
Most of the characters derive their names from literary figures.
Henry James, Ernest Hemingway, Elizabeth Browning and George Eliot are just some of them. See which others you can spot.
9 – COMPLETELY HANDWRITTEN
Sticking to good old fashioned paper, Vivika Widow wrote the first complete manuscripts of Maestro by hand. We think she could save herself some time (and paper) …
10 – IN THE BEGINNING AND AT THE END
Maestro begins with a lot of events having already occurred. It also ends with a lot of things still to happen. This is deliberate in the writing so that the thrill is intensified and the appetite is whet to the point where you are chomping to read more. Can we be seeing a prequel book sometime in the future? Will there be a follow up?
Click HERE to read the best selling thriller
