1 – THE CHARACTER OF TRACEY IS BASED ON VIVIKA WIDOW’S OWN EXPERIENCES
For the fans of the Confessions stories it was clear that Vivika was writing from her own experiences as a medical student. Obviously there was a lot of dramatic licence but Tracey’s attitude, ambitions and wit are a lot closer to home for the author than it would seem.
2 – TRACEY COULD BE TALKING A LOT OF NONSENSE
There is a theory that Tracey’s narrative is all complete nonsense. Vivika was asked back in 2014 when Confessions of an Anatomist first appeared in the Myths N Tales collection if what Tracey says in her narrative can be taken as the truth. Did she murder her way to an A grade? Is she actually an anatomy student? Is she just some crazy person stuck in her own head? Vivika has neither confirmed nor denied this. We’ll let you read the Confessions stories and judge for yourself.
3 – TRACEY SHARES A UNIVERSE
Tracey exists in the same universe as a lot of characters featuring in Vivika Widow’s thriller books. She appears in THE GRIP as one Kelsey’s classmates. She also features briefly in MAESTRO as photographer, Daniel captures the image of a girl on the steps reading an anatomy text book. In My Silly Little Confessions, Vincent Baines (MAESTRO) makes a brief appearance. With cross overs from the Knock, Knock series, Maestro and many other’s have a read through again and see how many you can spot.
4 – TRACEY WAS ALWAYS A KILLER
My Silly Little Confessions gave a glimpse of Tracey’s earlier years. It is clear that Tracey’s killer career didn’t begin with her quest to be the best in her anatomy class. Vivika has confirmed that it is not simply a result of Tracey being crazy (although there is no denying she is). Something triggered her murder spree but it looks like we’ll have to stay tuned to the Confessions series to find out what that was.
5 – TRACEY HAS MORE CONFESSIONS TO MAKE
My Silly Little Confessions had Tracey on the hunt for author, Joanna Kipling, who stole her novel idea. There is some blood to spill along they way but if Tracey gets satisfaction will that really be the end of her confessions? Not likely.
Click HERE to read about Tracey’s careers as author, doctor and serial killer!
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Check out the Confessions stories for more on Tracey and her antics.
“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 about Tracey’s career as author, doctor and serial killer!
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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. Unbeknownst to her, someone was waiting in the dark. As she trudged towards the train station, they followed her.
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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.
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