Cover ART for Book IV in the Harrowbethian Saga

To be released August 10th, 2017!

Book IV in the Harrowbethian Saga

Eena, The Two Sisters

COVER ART REVEAL!

Who wouldn't want to ride on the back of a dragon?

Preorder Eena, The Two Sisters

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Prepare for unpredictable trials and adventure with the young Queen Eena.
Read the first three chapters on Richelle E. Goodrich's author blog.

Queen Eena sees her world crumbling, chiefly the lives of those she loves most. Affected by a compassionate heart, she tries to console one man who mourns for a lost love while endeavoring to assure another she does indeed plan to marry him... someday. But emotions are sensitive and doubts strong, especially when provoked by the lying tongue of an immortal scoundrel.

All the while, the young queen continues to search for a way to defeat two devious, indestructible sisters who seem capable of manipulating outcomes regardless of Eena's attempts to thwart them. The closer she gets to fulfilling the final demands of these witches, the more it appears only one way exists to save herself and her world—by agreeing to join the enemy. But would that make her a hero or the ultimate traitor?

Look for the beginning books in the Harrowbethian Saga.

I Learned from my Father

      Lately, my house has been a frenzy of graduation prepping, picture taking, formal ceremonies, and congratulatory parties. I am blaming all of this wonderful craziness for allowing Father's Day to sneak up on me. So here I stand on the threshold of Father's Day, realizing I have yet to write down any personal thoughts. No better time than the present.

     It seems to me that much of what we gain from a father—what we learn from him—comes through observing the way he lives his life. What I wrote two years ago I still believe to be true.

"The greatest lessons I learned from my father didn't come from lectures or discipline or even time spent together. What has stuck with me is his example. From watching, I chose whether to be or not to be like him."
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Smile Anyway

     Example is a mighty teacher, but that was not all my father offered me. He was good for words of advice that fell from his mouth more than once. One of his top maxims helped solidify my self-confidence at a young age: "Do your best and nothing less." He told me this when I first started school, and I took those words to heart, believing on some internal level that it was my duty. As a result, I put forth my best effort in school and in developing budding talents. That full effort to "do my best" made my accomplishments more impressive than they might have been otherwise. In the process, I earned compliments and recognition that bolstered my developing confidence. Thanks to my father, I have seldom considered any goal above my ability to achieve.

     Another repeated word of advice I heard often was "Don't waste your time worrying about what other people think of you. So long as you can look yourself in the eye every morning with a clear conscience, that's all that matters." I will admit, criticism and praise both affect me. Words have that power over most human beings. But this advice from my father did help develop a most unique and useful ability. I take criticism and hold it apart from me like a book which I read and evaluate and then toss aside if my own opinion differs. Likewise, I have learned to treat praise in a similar manner, appreciating kind words but then setting them aside rather than internalizing what might puff up my ego. My father taught me to form my own opinions and to be true to them. People will enter and exit my life, but I am eternally stuck with me. So, as Shakespeare declared, "To thine own self be true." I do not mean in an egotistical or selfish manner, rather showing sincerity and goodness to oneself. The same as you show to others.

     I recall one day coming home from work—one of my first jobs after high school—and grumbling to my father about how difficult the work was and how my boss wanted a greater amount of production from me than I felt able to give. I wanted to quit. And why not? I was unhappy. The job was a menial position that could easily be replaced by another. Why return to more days—weeks—months of having to endure criticism from a grumpy boss? My father set the bar for me at that moment, one I would sustain for the rest of my life. He said, "You don't quit. Struggling at work, being unhappy, feeling disliked, enduring rebuke, or any other hardship that might come along is no excuse to quit. You get in there and you work hard. You make yourself reliable and teachable and available. And after all of that, if they fire you then fine—they fire you at your best. But you don't quit."

     So I went back to my lousy job and did as my father said. I worked hard. I learned to move faster. I found ways to make better use of my time. By the end of that year, my grumpy boss promoted me to assistant supervisor overseeing the other workers. I was given the task of scheduling hours and granted the power to fire and hire employees in certain positions. My father taught me that rewards do come to those who stay the course and endure well. You don't quit.

     There are many other things I learned from my father, other words of advice that helped shape my character. I won't list them all. I think I turned out alright by him. So I would like to say "Thank you, Dad" for the valuable lessons. I love you and wish you a very happy Father's Day.

The Unique Rewards of Friendship

     “What is so rewarding about friendship?” my son asked, curling his upper lip into a sour expression.  “Making friends takes too much time and effort, and for what?”

I sat on the edge of his bed, understanding how it might seem simpler to go at life solo.

“Friendship has unique rewards,” I told him.  “They can be unpredictable.  For instance...”  I couldn’t help but pause to smile crookedly at an old memory that was dear to my heart.  Then I shared with my son an unforgettable incident from my younger years.

“True story.  When I was about your age, I decided to try out for a school play.  Tryouts were to begin after the last class of the day, but first I had to run home to grab a couple props for the monologue I planned to perform during tryouts.  Silly me, I had left them at the house that morning.  Luckily, I only lived across a long expanse of grassy field that separated the school from the nearest neighborhood.  Unluckily, it was raining and I didn’t have an umbrella. 

“Determined to get what I needed, I raced home, grabbed my props, and tore back across the field while my friend waited under the dry protection of the school’s wooden eaves.  She watched me run in the rain, gesturing for me to go faster while calling out to hurry up or we would be late.  

“The rain was pouring by that time which was added reason for me to move fast.  I didn’t want to look like a wet rat on stage in front of dozens of fellow students.  Don’t ask me why I didn’t grab an umbrella from home—teenage pride or lack of focus, I’m not sure—but the increasing rain combined with the hollering from my friend as well as my anxious nerves about trying out for the play had me running far too fast in shoes that lacked any tread.  

“About a yard from the sidewalk where the grass was worn from foot traffic and consequently muddied from the downpour of rain, I slipped and fell on my hind end.  Me, my props, and my dignity slid through the mud and lay there, coated.  My things were dripping with mud.  I was covered in it.  I felt my heart plunge, and I wanted to cry.  I probably would have if it hadn’t been for the wonderful thing that happened right then.  My crazy friend ran over and plopped herself down in the mud beside me.  She wiggled in it, making herself as much a mess as I was.  Then she took my slimy hand in hers and pulled us both to our feet.  We tried out for the play looking like a couple of swine escaped from a pigsty, laughing the whole time.  I never did cry, thanks to my friend.

      “So yes, my dear son, friendship has its unique rewards—priceless ones.”


This story is from the book, Slaying Dragons: Quotes, Poetry, & a few Short Stories for Every Day of the Year, by American author and poet, Richelle E. Goodrich