Miranda Kate's Blog, page 7

Review: Spare, by Prince Harry & J.R. Moehringer

Spare by Prince Harry
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

A review or a rant? You choose.

I hadn’t paid much attention to Prince Harry until recent years, until all the tabloid started screaming their racist stance about his wife, and picking her apart. It reminded me of his mother, Princess Diana who I did love, and was devastated to see she was murdered by the very press that made money off her back. And even though everyone knew that, everyone ignored it too.

I was born and raised in the UK, and even before I left in my 30s, I knew the dire state it was in was due to the British newspaper media and how it manipulated the pubic and their views. And now more than ever the current state of the country is due to what they have wrought – and what the people choose to believe.

I was raised a royalist; I was raised to see the monarchy as people who did a job, a bloody hard job, one that requires them to open their lives and be critiqued on a daily basis. People are under some strange delusion that they are making a ton of money and rubbing their hands in glee and pretending they’re above others, but the truth is that every day since birth their lives have been given over to meeting and engaging with people they have no choice about. I watched a documentary about Prince Charles’s life some time back in the early 90s, which detailed the one day a year where his entire year is mapped out for him: what engagements he had to attend, what trips he had to make, and the people he had to entertain. There were no choices. He asked a couple of times if it was his turn to do this or that engagement, but unfortunately it was dictated to him. And the recent fiction series, The Crown, which bases its storylines in truth, depicts the same: employees of the monarchy, including the government, are the ones that hold all the rules and regulations and they are puppets who are there to serve a particular role.

Anyone who thinks otherwise has been coloured by the national newspapers of the UK. There is no where else such bias can be founded, unless you knew them personally and actually had a proper insight into their lives. They are real people, with real lives, despite how they got there.
Yes, they live a particular kind of life, at a much higher level than most of the citizens of the country, but so do the owners of those newspapers that have tainted and manipulated the views of the nation. The difference is the royal family lived in a 'gilded cage' as Prince Harry calls it. Everything they do is restricted.

This particular book, I felt, was written as a plea to Prince Harry’s father and brother. I have no idea if they have read it, or if their view of it has also been coloured by those that want to discredit it - one of them sitting on the throne next to the King, someone who from the very beginning was not to be trusted, one who managed to use the press to reimagine themselves to get the public onside, and who is a huge part behind why this situation has happened.

Anyone who reads this book and picks at the things Prince Harry talks about doesn’t see what he is actually saying, i.e. the British media are in the wrong here and have literally been terrorising him, his wife and his children. And those people are the very public the British tabloid press has manipulated to believe that Harry mentioning how many people he killed in a war is more relevant than the press having a vendetta against them. And don’t think they don’t – they very much have a vendetta against anyone who speaks against them or doesn't tolerate their free rein to lie about them. And anyone who also believes that the details of Prince Harry's part in the war wasn’t vetted and checked by the army clearly doesn’t understand what it takes to publish such writing. But of course the public don’t know that, and the British tabloids aren’t about to tell them when it serves their ‘anti’ discourse.

I was hugely moved by this book. Having watched Prince Harry’s interviews about this book, I could hear his voice in the wording, even though I knew that much of it was guided by a ghost writer (I’ve read articles by them about the writing of it too). I still can’t believe that anyone thinks that what this couple have been put through is okay, or that in publishing this book they were being hypocritical by using the thing that was tormenting them. Why not use the very thing that is persecuting your life to try at least put the truth out there and be heard? And if you don’t believe this is his truth, then you must think he is just like the newspaper editors/owners: liars and manipulators.

I don’t know when we as a society got to the point where stalking someone, invading and trespassing on their properties and lives was ‘freedom of speech’ or that it was ‘in the public’s interest’. Nothing the British tabloid press have ever written about these two has been ‘in the public’s interest’, unless it has been about their charities, work and engagements they fulfil for the country. The British public’s continued support of this kind of behaviour by the press – and I see it here in many of the reviews – is not okay.

I may only be one individual, but I hear you Prince Harry, and I am so ashamed that you have been treated this way. Thank you for being open and vulnerable and risking yet further damnation at the hands of the British press.

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Interview with Victoria Pearson about Kill The Goblins

My good friend, Victoria Pearson, who has her own channel on YouTube and does mini daily gratitude shorts every morning, where you can take a breath with her, interviewed me about my new book, Kill The Goblins, How to get the negative voices in your head to shut up. She has been instrumental in me writing and publishing this book, having helped me with the content, layout and also promotion. I am eternally grateful to her for giving me a platform to speak on.

Here's the video: 

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 305

This week's picture prompt is one of my own. And if this looks familiar in some way, it's because it is at Lacock Abbey in Wiltshire (and I'm told by my family that live close by it's pron: lay-cock), where they filmed some of the Harry Potter movies. This room was from the scene about the Mirror of Erised - where Harry speaks to Dumbledore. I thought it would make a nice prompt. 
A Tricky snippet, which I may or may not use. It worked perfectly for where I am at. The last time I wrote a Tricky piece for Mid-Week Flash was Week 302. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.




Suspicions
Tricky waited nervously.She had no idea what was going to happen next and to put it mildly wasterrified. No one seemed to know anything about what others might know andwhether their knowing influenced another knowing, and if no one knew who knew,then what? A tangled web that Adric had spun, and had his father caught up in,though she knew The Baron could get himself out of it easily enough. Oh how shehated all this.

She paced the empty ancient room, which hadonce been furnished by the impossibly rich, the overlords of the time beforethe shift. Just this bare shell showed their opulence: the stonework on thefloor, the arches on the walls, even the vaulted ceiling. But now it was just ananti-chamber to a larger system of rooms that made up this mangled palace. Noone quite understood how the different building and landmasses had been throwntogether, and why ones like these survived and remained intact, while othershad fallen and crumbled. No one knew anymore, too much had been lost, theycould only shore up what they had and maintain it.

Tricky looked out of the windows, which hadglass intact though cracked in places – a luxury that didn’t exist anymore. Shewatched the river water flowing just a few feet below. How it hadn’t infectedthis place with its dampness she didn’t know. They had all sorts of tricks tostop it back then and clearly someone still knew how otherwise this room wouldbe covered in mould. She’d seen it in multiple buildings on the outskirts. Itdepended if people valued a particular building, whether they would save it.

Tricky wanted to sniff at those livinghere, how they were the new overlords, but she couldn’t quite. They were tryingto manage so many different aspects all running simultaneously, while trying tokeep people safe, especially from the likes of the network.

Tricky shuddered. She thought the time of politicaland powerful threats were over for the people. The shift had seen the end of it,but here they were again, worrying what someone might be capable of, or mightdo just to gain … what? Control over others? Control of a landmass? What didthey think it offered them? Did they see the work that went into trying to keepit going and safe? But they didn’t care about working and safe, they only caredabout having possessions, about gorging themselves on objects and things thatdidn’t belong to them. She hated them. She felt the rage and frustration ofbeing caught up in their road of destruction. She wanted no part of it, butthey had decided she was the crux of it; they wanted to claim her knowledge andher inherited possessions for their cause. The rancid, corrupt minds ofinflated egos and ugly intentions. She wanted to see them dead.

She heard footsteps outside – hard not toon the echoey stone floors that ran through this place – and took a deep breath.Who would be coming through that door, friend or foe? And would she know thedifference? 

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 304

This week's picture prompt was created by hungarian born, Sarolta Ban. She doesn't give this a name, but it is located in the alterego category.  It's not the first time I've used one of her images. I used one on Week 28, and Week 24 . She has some exceptional images, worth checking out. 

Took a while but then this story arrived sometimes you have to follow your beliefs. Just say no to caged birds. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.


Delight
I heard the carpull up. We’d been driving for a while, and I had no idea where they weretaking me. The box wasn’t very comfortable but it beat the cage. I heardshuffling and a car door open, then the box was jostled as they picked it up. Iheard them walk on crunchy ground for a while. Then the box was put on theground. I heard strange zipping sounds, and then more footsteps until the soundof them faded. I heard a car engine in the distance, then nothing. Silence.

I pushed up on the cardboard above me, notexpecting it to give, but it did. I opened the flaps with the tip of my wing,and pushed up, opening them out to their full wingspan. I hadn’t been able todo that in years.

The air was thick with fog, or was thatsmoke? I couldn’t be sure. I had little recollection of what fresh air smeltlike. I stepped out of the box and flexed my wings a few times. I hadn’t flownin at least a decade.

Cage life was torture for anyone withwings, but humans like to have you there to coo at you. They also expected you tobe grateful to have been caught in the first place and kept alone, trapped, andliving with the indignity of shitting where you eat. Some days they were lazyand let it get really smelly. All I could do when that happened was hide in thecorner and cover my face with my wing in shame. I would hear them talk about meas though I was some tiny toy. But mostly I was just an ornament.

They had clearly had enough of me, which iswhy they had dumped me here. The novelty had finally worn off, and as I hadn’tdied in the cage, they were now going to abandon me and force me to fend formyself in a hostile land.

I beat my wings a few times and hopped overto a rock. I needed to get above whatever was causing this fogginess and feelthe sun on my body.

I beat them again, expecting to feel tired,but instead I was exhilarated, my energy rising high. And with another hardbeat I rose using that energy, climbing higher and higher until the cloudsaround me began to brighten.

I broke through and got my first glimpse ofsunshine and sky in … I no longer knew how long, but since I was a baby. It wasmagical. I caught a thermal and glided out above the dense cloud, until I cameacross a gap that showed me the ground.

It was indeed smoke. I could see patches ofthe ground consumed by flame and others black from where it had passed.

I stayed high, it was easy up here, thewarm thermals keeping me buoyant, and not requiring too much wing strength.Then I spotted a flock ahead of me, and made my way towards them. They werewhite-winged like me.

I joined the tail end of their formation.The wind drag lessened and I felt I had found my place.

I soaked in the view of the sun glisteningon the smoky clouds and imagined water, large expanses of it. And somewhere inmy mind I knew that was where we were going, and I could see the route. I hopedmy wings would hold me up that long.

But soon the light was fading and theformation was descending, fortunately to an unburnt patch of land. I tried foran elegant landing but I stumbled a little. Folding my wings hurt after such along time expanded but it was a relief too. I joined them pecking at theground, and followed them towards a small stream. I placed my feet in the waterand squawked with delight. They joined in. And then I saw the movement in thewater and caught up the little fish in my mouth. I’d never experienced anythingso blissful.

Then as the light left the ground, wehuddled together, and I spotted the rings on their legs, too. I wasn’t the onlyone who had found freedom as the world burned.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 303

This week's picture prompt is a photograph taken by Nathan Dumlao over on Unsplash. I thought it was a very thought provoking capture. 

I had to think hard about how to generate this idea, but I think it worked. I do like me a dark tale.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.



Party
Trisha couldn’tbare looking at the bright yellow smiley-face balloon anymore. It was deflatedand shrivelled, just like her. She opened the window of the chauffeur drivencar and let it go, watching it rise up into the city streets, before beingcaught by a rush of air from passing traffic and thrown to the ground.

Maybe a child would find it and get a fewmoments of joy. She’d bought it for that reason, but now it representedsomething more sinister.

She hadn’t wanted to go to the party, butHal had insisted, and he was hard to resist. She knew they enjoyed theirhedonistic weekends and revel in their rich white privilege, dragging her alongas the token minority, but they were far too debauched and triggered unhealthy events.She didn’t mind a few drinks, but when they started hitting the hard stuff – thepills – it made it a bit more difficult to control. And this time it had gottenout of hand.

Trish was only thankful she had been so outof it she didn’t remember much. She didn’t want to; the few snapshots that keptcoming to mind were enough.

Trisha’s phone rang and she glanced at it:Hal. Yeah, he’d want to know how it had happened; he’d want all the gruesomedetails – and they were indeed gruesome. She wasn’t sure she wanted to putwords to those images.

“Hey Hal.”

“Trish, where are you? What happened?”

“I’m back in the city, on my way home.”

“But you just left … you didn’t say a word.”

“Did I need to?”

“Well … yeah! Patrick is freaking out.”

“I knew he would, but it’s not my fault. Itold you both it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Not a good idea, and why it wasn’t a goodidea are two different things. You should have told us.”

“How, Hal? How exactly would that go?”

“But you’ve partied with us before and it’snever gone down like that! Is it a time-of-the-month thing?”

“You think that’s PMS rage?”

“No, I mean celestial, Trish.”

“It wasn’t full moon, Hal, you know that.”

“So then, what the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know. Could have been the chemicalcombination, it could have been the people.”

“Well those people won’t be a problemanymore.”

Trish felt sick. “I didn’t plan for this tohappen, Hal!”

“I know that Trish.”

“It’s why I got the hell out of there.”

“I gather that.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to tell me what triggered thechange, and how exactly it all went down, just so we have all the basescovered.”

Trish thought as much.

“I’m not telling you while I’m in the car –or over the phone for that matter.”

“Then we’ll come over … tonight?”

“Okay. But no drink, no drugs, no pushingme to perform tricks!”

“Oh my god, Trish, we’re not looking for arepeat, we’re looking to get the details so we can get our stories straight. Ittakes a bit to get this all smoothed over you know.”

“ I know, white privilege and all that.”

“Yeah, and thank god for that! If weweren’t monied rich guys we’d all be in jail after that display.”

“You guys didn’t have to join in.”

“Of course we did ... though I think youstill have a lot to teach us.”

Trish could hear him smile, and allowedherself to smile too, the knot in her stomach loosening a little.

“You’d better come over, then, so we cantalk about it.”

“Okay good. We’ll see you tonight.”

“Alright. Later.”

Trish hung up, feeling a little less likethe balloon she’d set free. An image of that balloon dancing around the ceilingas the three of them had let rip came to mind. If it had deflated too soon, itwould have been incinerated like rest of the bloodied contents of that room.She thought about how she was going to explain turning to them, but suspectedthey might alright know.

Trish sat up a little in the car thinkingabout what she was going to say. It was going to be an interesting night. Ithad been a long time since she’d talked about it to anyone.

Review: Rollie: A fictionalised biography by Michael Wombat

Rollie: A fictionalised biography by Michael Wombat
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

What an incredible read. I was quietly weeping and sniffling towards the end.

Michael Wombat has taken the remnants of someone's short time on this earth, a box full of letters, a diary and some photos and certificates, and brought it to life. Filling in some blanks with a few fictional pieces of dialogue and events. It brought alive the world of what young airforce pilots in the second world world experienced while training.

Michael Wombat spent years reading and researching other accounts from people who went through the same training during that time and knew all about the organisations, and the terminology and used it to fill in the pencil drawing of Rollie's life. I was gained a sense of who this young man was, and how he interacted with friends and family. And it was extremely touching, and I'm really glad I read it.

Even if, like me, you aren't particularly into war stories or accounts, this book gives you a glimpse into someone's life and explains all the nuances and terminology from that time. I definitely recommend it. Well done Michael Wombat for enabling us to remember Rollie and all those like him.


View all my reviews

Review: The Foot & Ankle Pain Bible & The Head, Neck & Shoulder Pain Bible, by Chris Kidawski

The Foot & Ankle Pain Bible: A Self-Care Guide to Eliminating the Source of Your Foot Pain by Christopher J. Kidawski
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Wish I'd found this sooner!

I used to suffer planters fasciitis, but after 18 months of pain, I found an exercise on YouTube that I did three times a day that resolved it in two months, but since then I have developed foot tendonitis, but after reading this book - in two hours which is unheard of for me - I know what exactly is causing it - and how to resolve it. I am beyond excited.

This is not a long book, but it explains everything clearly AND there are pictures and diagrams to show you how to do the exercises the author, Chris Kidawski talks about. It is all muscular. I can't wait to get stuck in. I am simply waiting on some mobility tools to help me (massage balls).

So many people think that pain meds, immobilising the painful part of the body or icing it will help - it doesn't. They think yoga or pilates or a bit of stretching is all you need. It's not. You have to work out what your body is doing, and look further than the site of pain. I had pain in my arm and fingers when I slipped a disc in my neck and trapped a nerve. It paralysed a whole back muscle, but that was not the site of the injury it was the discs in the neck.

And Chris is right, when he says: "With our want-it-now society, very few people are willing to do what it takes to reverse their diseases and ailments in a more natural, permanent way."

Chris Kidawski has a degree in Kinseology, is a movement, and fascia expert and strength trainer. He knows how to put in all the information you need and get straight to the point. Most helpful book I've read in ages. I have just bought his book on shoulder and neck pain!



View all my reviews The Head, Neck & Shoulder Pain Bible: A Self-Care Guide To Eliminating Upper Body Pain by Christopher J. Kidawski
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Another excellent book from Christopher Kidawski.

It's full of clear instructions and explanations. As someone who slipped two discs in my neck, due to muscle tension this is definitely something for me, and I'm already using it. It does involve buying the recommended tools, and also confidence to try this out yourself. Although I did email Chris for help and he responded immediately with guidance videos.

I also have had a lot of physio help for more than a decade and used many exercises, so am confident I won't damage myself because I know what pain is damage pain, and which is releasing muscle - I've had physios release muscles before, it's initially sore, but in the long term really helpful.

There are pictures of how to go about treating yourself, and diagrams of the muscles structures.

I would definitely recommend.

View all my reviews

Review: The Foot & Ankle Pain Bible, by Chris Kidawski

The Foot & Ankle Pain Bible: A Self-Care Guide to Eliminating the Source of Your Foot Pain by Christopher J. Kidawski
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Wish I'd found this sooner!

I used to suffer planters fasciitis, but after 18 months of pain, I found an exercise on YouTube that I did three times a day that resolved it in two months, but since then I have developed foot tendonitis, but after reading this book - in two hours which is unheard of for me - I know what exactly is causing it - and how to resolve it. I am beyond excited.

This is not a long book, but it explains everything clearly AND there are pictures and diagrams to show you how to do the exercises the author, Chris Kidawski talks about. It is all muscular. I can't wait to get stuck in. I am simply waiting on some mobility tools to help me (massage balls).

So many people think that pain meds, immobilising the painful part of the body or icing it will help - it doesn't. They think yoga or pilates or a bit of stretching is all you need. It's not. You have to work out what your body is doing, and look further than the site of pain. I had pain in my arm and fingers when I slipped a disc in my neck and trapped a nerve. It paralysed a whole back muscle, but that was not the site of the injury it was the discs in the neck.

And Chris is right, when he says: "With our want-it-now society, very few people are willing to do what it takes to reverse their diseases and ailments in a more natural, permanent way."

Chris Kidawski has a degree in Kinseology, is a movement, and fascia expert and strength trainer. He knows how to put in all the information you need and get straight to the point. Most helpful book I've read in ages. I have just bought his book on shoulder and neck pain!



View all my reviews

Interview with Lisa Shambrook about Kill The Goblins

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Ginger Nuts of Horror: Horror of Humanity feature: Why Horror by Miranda Kate Boers

 

A couple of years ago, in 2020, I wrote a feature article for Ginger Nuts of Horror, a horror review and discussion website, and for some strange reason I didn't share it on my blog. And now, as the hosting site for Ginger Nuts had problems, they had to move their website, and my article is no longer readily available - at this point I haven't been able to find it in the archives. So I decided to republish the article here on my blog. 
It was part of a feature they were running about horror and mental health, and as I have now published my first self-help book, I am often asked how a horror writer and this article covers that.

What drew me to horror, first as areader and then as a writer.

I still remember being out on thesports fields at school and classmates surreptitiously passing around a wornpaperback urging me to look at a certain page number. To this day I stillremember the line: ‘putting his member into her like stuffing dough into apurse’ – or something along those lines. It’s from The Dark by James Herbert ifI remember correctly, and there was something repugnant yet compelling about itthat made me want to read more, so I did, I read lots more – especially ofHerbert’s books. And not just for dark, crudely described sex scenes, but forthe dark sinister feel and the brutality of the horror – a brutality which hadoverlapped into my life since I was born, being a child of domestic violenceand having been on the receiving end both verbally and physically as a teenager.

I moved on from James Herbert,lapping up the likes of Guy N Smith and his books Deathbell and Satan’sSnowdrop, and then I discovered Stephen King – Firestarter being my first. Ibecame one of his Constant Readers. And then Clive Barker came to my attention,and he encapsulated both horror and a surreal fantasy that was so extreme itwas difficult to explain to people who have never read his work. I could onlydescribe it as being so far beyond fantasy it was ‘the fantastic’; his use of crude,harsh, blunt words giving it a harder edge than a lot of books in the samegenre, placing it in darker realms. But I loved it and consumed as much of itas I could find, and for me personally it was the ultimate in escapism, feedingthe fantasies I used to disassociate from my real world.

I also reached a point that I was soused to reading this type of horror that it was hard for me to gauge how darkit was: I remember recommending Weaveworld to a friend, only thinking about thefantasy side, and they struggled with it. I did the same with Fear Nothing byDean Koontz, when suggesting it to my book club.

It’s led me to ponder many times whyI was so unaffected by it where others weren’t, and I knew it was reflective ofmy childhood. I had witnessed and experienced such real, tangible horrors that fictionaltales like these didn’t affect me negatively, in fact they helped me escape andsee that it was possible that things could be worse. I could relate to the fearand the suspense of uncertainty in a much more visceral way, whereas happy-go-luckychick-lit or romance novels, where people’s struggles were minor in comparison,just didn’t cut it for me.  

Despite their darkness, many horrorbooks have a baseline of good triumphs over evil – and I needed to know that, Ineeded to believe it could get better and that there were people out there thatgot away or recovered.

The fallout of experiencing the kindof abuse and trauma I did as a child is that it has repercussions as you growup and try and hold down relationships and jobs. I suffer from Complex PTSD,which shows up in lots of forms from anxiety and depression to suicidalideation, and is caused by prolonged and repetitive abuse over many years. Italso means I would disconnect from life around me and live in a fantasy in mymind, a form of dissociative behaviour that has caused me to struggle a lot,and which is what led to me moving from reading to writing my own horror.

I started with flash fiction, whichenabled me to express emotions – emotions that I hadn’t been allowed as a child– through characters and situations. I could express their hurt and I couldexpress their anger, I could explore what was going on. It was a release, andin sharing them I was also able to open a dialogue about them – a much neededdialogue.

The opening to my debut novel in September2019 was written in 1991 as a mere snippet for a competition to win a copy ofJames Herbert’s Portent, but I knew then I wanted it to be bigger, that Iwanted to express to the world what would drive a woman to murder, how that waspossible, how a person’s mind can be broken. But I wasn’t ready at that time towrite it and I knew that. I needed to unravel myself and gain some lifeexperience, and after years in therapy I was able to finally write about thatcharacter’s break from reality and her recovery – all be it in prison. I wantedthe audience to feel sympathy for her, to understand her, and realise that lifeis not black and white, it’s a whole world of grey and that mental health is afragile thing and if people aren’t paying attention things can go array.

As a reader I want to be able torelate, to engage to connect in a way I struggle to in real life, and for methat connection has to be with characters and storylines that aren’t straightforward or ‘normal’, that are off kilter and warped in some way, because thatis how I feel in myself. They add depth and give me a sense of belonging, andas someone who has suffered a whole half century on this planet without one thatis paramount. I might go and visit other genres to read and write, but horrorwill always be my true home.