Visit Moccobatra

For those who have tried to envision the world of Moccobatra, I give you a visual representation of this beautiful planet.  It is home to a mix of alien species who long ago claimed their own portion of soil.  You can see Harrowbeth surrounded by the twisted trees of Lacsar Forest and the majestic Blue Mountains northward.  This is the proud land Queen Eena rules.

What? You've not read of Queen Eena and her daring return to Harrowbeth? You’ve not searched the homelands at her side, drawn to the seven ancient star points needed to restore Pallador's platform?  

Oh my.

Thank heavens it's not too late to begin experiencing Eena's adventures in the Harrowbethian Saga. And just in time too... because the next book is to be released in a few short weeks!  

So happy reading!  And enjoy the maps of Moccobatra below—including descriptions of those races inhabiting this wondrous world.

BOARATTAS

(A race of nomads similar in appearance and customs to the Mishmorats but lacking cheetah-like spots.  They generally camp in the warmer climates of Moccobatra on the continent shared by Harrowbeth.  They have been known in the past to share temporary dwelling sites with the Mishmorats; although, the Boarattas are careful to keep intimate relations separate, concerned about offspring born with identifying spots.)

BRAETICS

(Known for their expert haggling abilities, this society thrives on commercial trade.  The people tend to be cheerful and gossipy, of stockier build.  They live in warmer to mild climates in the northern hemisphere of Moccobotra next to Middle Mei Jamay.  The land is divided into four commonwealths: Brentilies, Ardweeria, Triche, and Crestlovet.)

DOROJ

(A highly-sociable society thriving on novelties—new trends, new technologies.  The people are talkative but easily distracted, often losing a train of thought and frequently shifting between activities.  They live in the mild, northern continent of Moccobotra above the equator from Semmian lands.)

GROTTS

(Giants living north of the blue mountains of Icromeia.  Their capital city, Addebiosa, is located further north of Gabert Forest.  Their society revolves around the cultural arts; they are a friendly, courteous race. Once a year, during the fall season, they have a harvest parade in which the reigning Sha is traditionally invited to join.)

 HARROWBETHIANS

(A people of the northern hemisphere of Moccobatra living south of the Icromians’ Blue Mountains.  Their land is called Harrowbeth and is largely surrounded by the twisted trees of Lacsar Forest.  Their society holds strong to tradition and propriety, keeping to aged customs.  Social responsibilities are handed down within families.  Children are paired and promised by parental pledge to marry when the girl in the relationship turns eighteen years of age.  Promised couples wear matching pendants as they grow up to signify commitment to one another.  Their families often interact to encourage a strong relationship.  The land is governed by the Shen and Sha of Harrowbeth as well as eight members inheriting positions on the Council of Harrowbethian Dignitaries.)

HOJ Y`MAN

(Identified by their blue skin; the hues range from periwinkle to indigo.  They live in Middle Mei Jamay in the same hemisphere as Harrowbeth on the opposite side of Moccobatra.  They are neighbors with the Doroj on one side and the Braetic on the other, sharing one continent.  Frequently uttered slogan: Car’ un em doy’ Hoj y`man deria, or Faith in the Hoj y`man nation.)

ICROMIANS

(A tall, slender people living in a fortress city called Icromeia in the blue mountains of Moccobatra.  They are born with translucent wings that buzz rapidly; they prefer flight to walking.  The average Icromian considers himself superior to most other races on the planet.  They are governed by a prime director and appointed congress.)

LLESSURS

(A thin, delicate species living in homes carved from existing caves in the southern, mountainous continent below the Red Desert.  They share the mountains with the Monturians, but live higher up than their dwarf neighbors.  These fair-skinned people tend to keep to themselves; they are too elusive to detect if wishing to remain unseen.  They tend to have pastel eye colors, usually violet or blue.  Green is a rare pigment in their bloodline; yellow is even more rare.  Owing to ancient folklore describing an influential queen possessing hypnotic golden eyes that brought good fortune to her people, those born with yellow eyes are automatically given royal status.)

MISHMORATS

(A race of nomads with black hair, bronze skin, and cheetah-like spots running from head to foot with some bare zones including the main facial area.  They are of average height, muscled, and exceedingly strong for their build. They are described as an exotic race, especially the females who paint their eyes and lips.  Eye color ranges from near black to brown to burgundy.  Traveling camps generally keep to the warmer climates of Moccobatra on the continent shared by Harrowbeth.  Their wandering, free-spirited culture as well as their looks closely resembles the Boarattas who only lack spots.)

MONTURIANS

(Undersized and quick on their feet, this race is considered dwarfed in comparison to all other races inhabiting Moccobatra.  They reside in the lower mountains and foot prairies south of the Red Desert, sharing the mountains with the Llessurs who live higher up in caves.)

NALNOMS

(A smaller race of people living in the red desert areas of Moccobatra, at and below the equator.  They have large, dark eyes and a yellowish tone to their skin.  The average Nalnom is highly active, tending to have a rowdier disposition.)

OOREENEE

(Island dwelling people of Moccobatra, tanned and tall with slender limbs and a long, skinny tail used to wrap around items like an extra hand.  Most have dark hair with red highlights.  Their eyes appear to glow red at dusk as if reflecting the sunset.  The main diet of the Ooreenee is seafood and tree fruit like sweet neenee (indigenous to the islands) and ongreas.  They have arranged marriages called ‘coupling’ similar to the Harrowbethian promise.  Parents sign a covenant note which ties children together soon after birth.  In Ooree one is said to be coupled to a future spouse until reaching the age of marriage.)

SEMMIANS

(A race of people with white skin and silver-white hair.  They live near and below the equator in and around the Semmian Rainforest.  The Vang Isles lie off their western coast, a tropic vacationing spot for many Moccobatrans and a substantial source of tourism income.  The Semmians are a militaristic society—though this is more visibly reflected on the main continent than on the Vang Isles.  They are governed by military leaders overseen by a solitary director.  The average male serves ten years in the armed forces and has two or more wives.)

WALCLES

(A race living in the northern mountain area of the southernmost continent on Moccobatra.  They have a brawny build, wide facial features, and are a hairy people; their women take pride in showing off extra-long braids.  Walcles like to work the land and engage in games designed to test physical strength.)

YAREMITES

(A light-skinned, freckled people living in the South Pole regions of Moccobatra.  Their eye color is prominently sea green and turquoise.  Hair color keeps to lighter shades of blonde.  Crusty, multi-layered skin helps this race to withstand extremely cold temperatures.  Yaremites live in cemented stone homes built high and enclosed like castle fortresses.)

Copyright 2014 Richelle E. Goodrich

I Am a Writer

 

“I bleed words.

I dream in narrative.

I live in infinite worlds.

I befriend figmental characters.

I wish on stars in other galaxies.

I harvest stories from a brooding muse.

I bloom under moonlight in hushed seclusion.

I am a writer.”

― Richelle E. Goodrich

Copyright 2014 Richelle E. Goodrich

Giving Away Stories

Would you like to know the most frustrating thing about being a book writer?  You might guess that it's the headache of attempting to compose a concise and gripping query letter meant to convince an agent to please, please, please consider your work.  Or you might think it's the effort of maintaining blogs and tweets and social media when what you really need is to be writing your manuscript.  Or maybe it is sweating over another revision where words and phrases have become déja vu protected by some muse-conjured force field outside your ability to edit.  Or perhaps it's just the futility of trying to find ways to make your book stand out among millions and millions of probably far superior...

Whoa, wait.  Let me rewind here.

Would you like to know ONE of the most frustrating things about being a book writer?  It is holding this completed novel in your hands―a work you've fallen in love with over the months it's taken to research and revise and carefully compose until it is now a wondrous reading experience―that only you have tasted.  You're alone in knowing how grand the story is; you've no one to talk to about this fantastical, life-altering journey you've been on!  More than anything in the world, you want to post it everywhere for the multitudes to read―because they'll surely want to―and share in the remarkable triumphs your clever characters have fought to overcome!

But you can't simply give your hard work away... even though you long to do just that.  I mean, what about your goal to profit off your books?  You've spent years putting them together, hoping someday to live the dream of supporting yourself as a novelist!  All that work... all that time... and you just want to give it away?

Ah heck, why not?

I'll admit that when I complete a writing project, all I really want is for someone to read it. Just read it! Take it in. Experience the story I crafted. That's why I always post beginning book chapters on my author blog. That's why two years ago I started writing online stories available for free. I add new chapters annually to my developing adventures, a tradition I look forward to.

How did this ritual begin? A few Halloweens back I had the idea to write a short story for a friend who happens to be a fanatic when it comes to All Hallows Eve. I wrote the story and titled it The Tarishe Curse. It was posted on Halloween 2012. My friend loved it! *Whew* And as far as I was concerned, the task (and the tale) was over.

But then she asked, "What happens next?"
What do you mean? The story ended. Well, sort of. But a good imagination can take it from there. However...

An idea was planted in my head—an idea I fell in love with. Why not write a story online for everyone to read? A story that develops into something greater every year! Yeah, why not? And so I did.

You can read it for free and anticipate more to come. Perhaps consider adding this to your holiday traditions.

The Tarishe Curse

 

This is a developing online book with new chapters added every Halloween.

Catherine fights every Hallows Eve to protect her village from creatures of the night. She has sworn to avenge the deaths of loved ones, but a witch's curse may prove a stumbling block impossible to overcome.

"A thrilling piece of fantasy fiction from the Queen of Werefolk's point of view. It is challenging enough for Duvalla and Kresh to protect their young family in a world of Hallows Eve creatures, but such a feat proves near impossible when a witch bent on vengeance against the werewolves casts a Tarishe curse that manipulates both heart and mind. The fight is not only with the sword but an internal struggle to love the ones Duvalla has sworn under a spell to hate, and hate the one who through evil enchantment manipulates her heart."

And please share! Leave your reaction; write a review; talk to others about it. Talk to ME about it! I write to entertain―myself first and then others.

Copyright 2014 Richelle E. Goodrich

Poetry as Therapy

Life hands us lovely days and awful ones; angry thunderstorms roll in that eventually fade to reveal cheery skies.  The sun rises to light our way, always setting to give darkness due time.  Every individual faces trials, feeling the weight of fear and sorrow as well as the immense relief that comes at their passing.

"No one is without troubles, without personal hardships and genuine challenges. That fact may not be obvious because most people don't advertise their woes and heartaches. But nobody, not even the purest heart, escapes life without suffering battle scars."
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Smile Anyway: Quotes, Verse, & Grumblings for Every Day of the Year

Coping with one's feelings during hardships, finding a healthy way to manage, can often be as challenging as surviving the trial itself. For some of us, it may be the most trying part. To think you can escape or anesthetize or ignore your scarred emotions, believing they will somehow no longer exist is like turning your back on the sun day after day believing this will negate its effects. The sun was meant to shine and to warm the world, as emotions were meant to give experience and meaning to our lives. Yes, even awful emotions have a place. Various tools exist to promote healing during tribulations; all of them require the courage to feel.

Poetry is one such tool—my frequent therapy of choice. When I sit down to pen out a poem, it is with the intent of expressing the emotions and experiences consuming me at the moment. It is a healing exercise to struggle with mixing words and my own feelings, pairing them up until I find myself mumbling creative lines that match exactly the sentiments gripping my heart. Perhaps I do this to better understand myself, knowing if I can communicate well enough, others in similar circumstances will feel and empathize and understand. I have written poems in the happiest of moods and in the depths of despair. It may be that when you write, you choose to share your verse with others or with no one. Either way, growth, cleansing, relief all come from the process.

I Danced with Gods

Last night I danced.

My body rose from its slump for the first time since the beginning of sorrows—my fingers beckoning to the stars at arm's length, back arching as tingles bubbled up my spine, hips caught in a silent tempo while on tiptoe I twirled in endless euphoric circles. It didn't matter that you loved me or that you didn't. For I was wanted by the gods last night; their seraphs and muses descending on moonbeams into my midst, caressing my face and gliding their spirited arms about my waist, lifting my toes from the soil that I might feel what it is to fly without heaviness of heart. I danced with them under the glow of a loyal moon. For one brief, visceral dance I joyed as Heaven joys—in endless bliss.

And the universe cherished me.

— Richelle E. Goodrich

 

Abandoned

The word alone sends shudders down a sensitive spine, troubling the thoughts of pained souls as their hurt swells in ripples. It is a sentence of undesired solitude often pronounced on the innocent, the trusting—administered without warning or satisfactory cause.

One day the moon is yours, or so you believe. The next, his countenance transforms from Jekyll to Hyde with no intention of ever turning back, and you are left trampled upon in a deserted street, concealed by dirty fog that squelches all illumination or any hope for future rays of light.

It is the worst of mysteries why a beast considered noble would forsake his duty, exhibiting a heart of stone. And all who once looked on him, now turn down their eyes and suffer, beguiled.

Some poisons have no antidote, but are slow, silent, torturous ends that curl up the broken body swept into a cold, dark corner. There she is left to drown in her tears—a dying heart.

Abandoned.
— Richelle E. Goodrich

All That I Have

My spirit mirrors the radiance of a clear, blue sky. With closed eyes I lift my face and smile, warmed from the core and from above. All hopes and dreams compete with this endless expanse of heaven, desiring the clock of eternity. I reach with my hands―frenziedly achieving―attempting to learn and do all. Yet I understand the humble truth; a drop of rain shall amount to my contribution among all the droplets in the vast ocean of human history. It is a pure and precious tear that seeps from my efforts....my existence. Taste how sweet! It is all I have, given willingly.

— Richelle E. Goodrich

Do I Love You


I stand in the night and stare up at a lone star, wondering what love means. You whisper your desire—do I love you? I dare say yes. But my eyes drift back to that solitary star; my mind is plagued with intimate uncertainty.

What art thou, Love? Tell me.

I contemplate what I know—the qualities love doth not possess. Love lifts no cruel or unkind hand, for it seeketh no harm. It shirks from constraints and demands, for tyranny is not love. A boisterous voice never crosses love's lips, for to speak with thunder chases its very presence from the heart. Love inflicts no pain, no fear, no misery, but conquers all such foes. It is said love is not selfish, yet it does not guilt those who are. On a heart unwillingly given it stakes no claim. Love is nothing from Pandora's box; it is no evil, sin, or sorrow unleashed on this world.

My eyes glimmer as the star I gaze upon twinkles with brightness I do not possess. I recognize my smallness—my ignorance of the One whose hands placed that star in the heavens for me.

He is love. By His own mouth He proclaimed it.

Again the whispered question hits my ear—do I love you? I dare say yes. But my eyes squint tight, wishing on a lonely star, wondering what love means.
— Richelle E. Goodrich




Copyright 2012 Richelle E. Goodrich

    

An Author and Inspiration

I came across a blog post written by a highly successful author whose multiple series are constant reads at my house. I found it an inspiring piece—a reminder for struggling writers such as myself that success is indeed built upon a foundation of often discouraging steps. I had to smile knowing my first book signing went far better by comparison (I sold 18 books), but the journey for bigger achievements goes on. This author's words I keep close at hand, where I can read them whenever my dreams seem more like a trek to the moon than a climb up a mountain peak—as if scaling a mountain isn't exhausting enough. For some reason, this personal entry affected me; I feel like my goals are doable in the real world.

Following is the actual post by Rick Riordan.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

My Overnight Success

At a recent event, someone asked me, “How does it feel to be an overnight success?”

The question took me aback. I had no idea how to answer, but I was struck by how drastically perception can differ from reality.

I’ve read about rock musicians who play free gigs for years in dingy bars—paying their dues—before they get the one big break that attracts national attention. Suddenly, the artist is an ‘overnight success.’ No one has heard of him before, so even though he has been toiling for years, people just assume he appeared out of nowhere, a fully-formed rock star, like Athena springing from the head of Zeus.

If a tree falls in the woods and no one hears . . . well, the tree doesn’t exist until we notice it. Thinking about my own ‘overnight success,’ I remembered one of the first book signings I ever did, ten years ago, when Big Red Tequila first came out. I was invited to Waldenbooks in a shopping mall in Concord, California. They set up a table at the front of the store. They allotted two hours. I sat there in my coat and tie and watched people pass by, steering clear of me like I was an insurance salesman. I gave directions to Sears. I explained several times that I wasn’t an employee at the bookstore and I didn’t know where the self-help section was. I signed a napkin for a couple of teenaged boys who thought the title Big Red Tequila sounded slightly naughty because it had to do with alcohol. I sold no books.

I remember the first book discussion group I did in Oakland. Two people showed up. And after that, a seemingly endless string of events for my mystery series—lots of empty chairs, apologetic booksellers, forced smiles. “Oh, it doesn’t matter if no one shows up!” I’d tell myself over and over. “It’s the signed stock and the publicity that counts!” Well . . . maybe. But I still felt like I was trying to fill a reservoir with an eye-dropper.

Most writers have stories like this. We dread the room full of empty chairs. I still have a deeply ingrained fear that no one will show up whenever I do an event. I am constantly amazed when I walk into a bookstore and there are actually people waiting for me.

When the Lightning Thief first came out, two years ago, I was a basket case. I had a feeling in my gut that this book was my big chance. And I also had a feeling that the big chance was slipping away. My family and I went out to the Bay Area to visit our old stomping ground, and I kept looking for signs that the Lightning Thief was making a big splash, getting some publicity, getting displayed prominently. No such luck. We stopped by several bookstores to sign stock. There was no stock. I did an event at one store (unfortunately, the day after the latest Harry Potter release) and the bleary-eyed bookseller’s only comment about Lightning Thief was, “Oh, it hasn’t gotten much coverage, has it?” One family showed up to hear me talk about my book. Two parents. One kid. I went back to the hotel room and curled into fetal position, thinking, “Well, that’s it. Nobody likes Percy Jackson.” My wife still teases me about that trip. She says, “If I could only go back in time and show you what was going to happen.” Still, at the time, I felt hopeless. It was another six months of constant touring and school visits before the Lightning Thief started gaining any traction at all. The Bluebonnet list from the Texas Library Association was the series’ first big break. Then it began showing up on other state lists, and word started getting around. Even after that, things were slow. I remember when Sea of Monsters came out, a year later, I was still having anxious conversations with my editor and agent, wondering what I could do to improve sales. Were we missing something? Was I wrong to think the series would connect with kids? It took almost two years before I really felt like things were turning around.

What made the difference? It’s hard to say, but it was a combination of factors. Most importantly, word-of-mouth. The series grew from the ground up, with one kid recommending the book to his or her friends. Booksellers and teachers and librarians started talking. I toured and did school visits relentlessly. The Sea of Monsters got on the Scholastic Book Club video, which was no small thing. The state reading lists started kicking in. And suddenly, just before the Titan’s Curse was released, the series seemed to reach critical mass and sales exploded.

But boy, it was a long time coming. I felt like I was clawing my way up a pit, tooth and nail. Am I complaining? Of course not. I’m just marveling at how uncertain I felt for so long. Nothing about the series’ success seemed inevitable. Even after I got the ‘ultimate break’ of being published for the first time, it was another eight years of writing while teaching full-time before I could go full-time as a writer, and two years more before I really felt like I was going to succeed. And still, who knows what will happen six months or a year from now? There are no guarantees.

As with any high-profile job, writing is judged by the exceptions in the field, not the average. When the general public hears the word ‘author,’ they think J.K. Rowling, Stephen King, James Patterson. They hear ‘basketball player,’ they think of Michael Jordan, Shaquille O’Neal, Tim Duncan. It’s an easy jump to think that all authors are like J.K. Rowling, and every basketball player is Michael Jordan. In fact, 99% of authors have never and will never experience anything like the success of the top 1%. Most writers, even if they manage to get published, never quit their day jobs. Most will never get on the bestseller list nor have their books made into a movie, just as most basketball players will never play in the NBA, and even those lucky few who do will never make the money of a superstar. Judging other books by the Harry Potter series is sort of like saying, “Well, that guy won the Powerball lottery, therefore everyone who plays should win the Powerball lottery.” That doesn’t mean we can’t dream. If a kid wants to aim at being a pro ball player, that’s awesome. If a writer wants to become the next ______ (fill-in-the-blank author), that’s fantastic, but it’s good to approach that ambition with your eyes open. It will most likely be a long, hard road with no guarantee that success will come. Exceptions are rare, which is why they get so much attention. For every well-known author you can think of, there are a thousand more struggling in the purgatory known as the “midlist,” and tens of thousands who are still trying to get published. And even those well-known authors probably struggled a lot longer and harder than you realize to get where they are.

I’m not saying this to gripe, or gloat, or whine. I’m just trying to provide some context, so when I tell you how grateful I am for the success of the books, and how lucky I feel, you’ll understand where I’m coming from. People ask me what I think about getting so much attention, and how it’s changed my life. It really hasn’t. I’m the same guy who sat in Waldenbooks for two hours, giving directions and smiling vacantly at a stream of shoppers who were trying to ignore me. I’m the same guy who stared at countless rooms full of empty chairs in countless bookstores for ten years. I am still amazed every time I get a crowd at an event. I take nothing for granted.

But you can’t really explain something like that in the middle of an event. It’s too hard to put into words without people thinking that I’m bragging or complaining. So the next time someone asks me, “How does it feel to be an overnight success?” I plan on smiling politely and saying, “It feels great.”

Visit Rick Riordan's Blog at rickriordan.blogspot.com

Some Say Freedom...

My Father: Vietnam War

Some say freedom is a gift placed in our hands by our forefathers.
Some say freedom is a human right that none should be denied.
Some say freedom is a privilege that can and will be seized if taken for granted.
Some say freedom is the key that opens doors otherwise meant to imprison.
Some say freedom is power to do, to be, to say, and to accomplish what the oppressed cannot.
Some say freedom is a responsibility—a weight to be carried and shared by those willing to protect it.

Perhaps freedom is all these things.

But in my eyes, I see freedom as a treasure.
It is a gem so rare and precious the fiercest battles rage over it. The blood of thousands is spilled for it—past, present, and future. Where true and unblemished freedom exists, it shines with perfect clarity, drawing the greedy masses, both those who desire a portion of the spoils and those who would rob the possessor of the treasure, hoping to bury it away.

Without freedom I am a slave in shackles on a ship lost at sea.

With freedom I am a captain; I am a pirate; I am an admiral; I am a scout; I am the eagle souring overhead; I am the north star guiding a crew; I am the ship itself; I am whatever I choose to be.

A Book for Children's Charity

A few months ago I was asked to participate in a charity writing project.  The goal was to collect short stories from willing authors and then compile these original tales into a book where 100% of proceeds from sales would go directly to the Devizes & District Opportunity Centre, an organization helping special needs children and their families.  

I eagerly volunteered to do my part and drafted a short story for the project.  My tale is entitled, 'The Beauty of Ugh.'

Now it's time for you to do your part.  Purchase a copy of the book and help a children's charity.  And thank you in advance for doing a small part to support these young children with special needs and learning disabilities.  "I Am Not Frazzle and Other Stories for Grownups" is available in e-book and paperback formats; click the links below.  

UK:  "I Am Not Frazzle and Other Stories for Grownups"

USA:  "I Am Not Frazzle and Other Stories for Grownups"

For a limited time, this book is priced at only $1.65/ 98p on Amazon.

Contributing authors include: 

Nancy Brooks

James Penhaligon

Richelle E Goodrich

Holly M Kothe

Graham Downs

Paul Howard

Cecily Magnon

David Darby 

Darren Worrow

For more info:www.iamnotfrazzle.webs.com