Bryen O'Riley's Blog, page 3

Luthando Coeur interview with Bryen O'Riley, author of The Chronicles of Quat: The Stone LC: The Stone offers us a glimpse of a world in which science and faith interweave. How did you come to feel the force of such an opposition? BrO:... I think that it is science’s fault really. Regardless of your faith--whether Christian, ancient Norse, Muslim, Wiccan, Jewish, Mormon, whatever--science is

An Excerpt from The Chronicles of Quat: The Stone By Bryen O’Riley

A Scientific Act

“Why don’t you eat?” Chet asked, as he polished off his second plate.
Tad opened his mouth to reply but was saved by the signature clap, clap of Councilman Netwhin as he stood to get everyone’s attention. The entire village quieted, and Netwhin couldn’t suppress the smile of satisfaction that lit his face as the crowd obeyed his signal.
“Good evening, masters and mistresses. Of course, we are here today to celebrate the homecoming of an honored citizen of Idynn, Etan den Lyra.”
Everyone clapped.
“I would now like for you to give your attention to Scientist den Lyra, who wishes to address you and prove his skill with a scientific act for your amazement.”
The crowd roared. There was no mistaking they were here to see Etan perform an act of science.
Etan stepped forward. For the first time since coming to Idynn, he was wearing the royal blue mantle that marked him as a scientist. He raised his hands. “Good people of Idynn. It is very nice to be home. It has been five long years since I have seen you, and I am pleased to find you healthy and prosperous.” He looked around the crowd. “Among you are family members”—he smiled at Rynn and Tad—“friends”—he glanced a little sadly at the group across the Green who kept their far seats but were now quiet as they waited to see the act that would effectively end their friendship with the new scientist—“schoolmates”—this was to Lynna—“and fellow citizens of Idynn”—his gazed swept across the crowd. Etan had acquired an ability to make every person in the crowd believe he was speaking directly to them.
Tad watched the townspeople more than his brother. He watched as some squirmed and some beamed under the gaze of a scientist. He saw his brother’s natural charm combined with the authority of a scientist sway the crowd to him.
“I left you as one of your boys, no different from the other young men of the village, and returned to you a scientist. As a new blacksmith might be asked to demonstrate to you his trade, I have been asked to demonstrate to you my skill: a scientific act.”
Etan flourished his hands theatrically, and the crowd’s eyes widened in anticipation. He smiled his most winning smile, and Tad heard a girl sigh. Please.He stifled a groan.
Etan reached down to a pedestal set up beside him, which Tad hadn’t previously noticed, covered in a deep blue cloth, the color of Quat. The cloth reached completely to the floor and looked to be of the very best cashmere. Etan pinched the blue between his fingers, flung his arm back, and pulled the cloth from the pedestal.
The regular Council podium stood there, but instead of the enormous Book of Laws, a golden bowl swirled intricately with yellow and red stood in its place.
“The bowl is filled with regular water from the well that stands right over there.” Etan turned to his right and addressed a former schoolmate. “Jendar, can you verify that you filled the bowl with water from that very well?”
Jendar nodded. “I sure did. With my own two hands.”
“Unless the scientist switched it to magic water when we weren’t looking?” a faithless voice in the back of the crowd shouted. Etan’s eyes searched the back of the crowd until he could discern the lowered eyes of Ban Melton. “You are more than welcome to taste it yourself, Ban.”
Ban shook his head. “You trying to kill me off? I’d never drink that.”
“My drinking it would prove nothing, I suppose?” Etan asked, slightly irritated. “You’d just think scientists were immune to magic water, wouldn’t you?”
Ban nodded uncomfortably with so many eyes on him, but he regained a little confidence when murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.
“What about my mother, then? You know I would never hurt her and you trust her. Would that satisfy you?”
The crowd nodded and cheered agreement.
Etan found Rynn’s eyes. “Would you come forward and drink the water, Ma? It truly is only water from the well.”
Tad studied Rynn’s face as she came forward. She looked as tense as she had at the house, but regardless of her staunch disapproval of everything that came from Quat, Tad wasn’t surprised to see a fierce look of protection on her face. Etan was her son and she would support his act of science no matter what.
Rynn reached the front of the crowd and held upside down the mug she had brought with her. “I trust you completely, Etan. I know you would never hurt me.”
She spoke without guile, and Etan didn’t react to her pointed statement, but Tad flinched. It was too close a reminder of their family secret and spoken too openly for his comfort, but a quick look around the crowd showed that none of the townspeople thought anything amiss.
Rynn dipped her mug into the water in the golden bowl and, with a hint of a dramatic pause and a twinkle in her eye, chugged the water down.
The crowd gasped to see Rynn act in a manner so opposed to her usual elegant femininity but then roared with approval. Tad shook his head, grinning. Maybe she was finding a way to fit in after all.
She set the cup down with a clunk of satisfaction and smiled broadly, “It tastes exactly like the water from our village well. I verify it is normal water.”
The crowd cheered wildly, and Etan looked very pleased. With one stroke Rynn had broken down all of the villagers’ reluctance to accepting Etan as a true scientist. Now they were all just filled with excitement to see an act.
Etan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object. “Now I put this scientific contraption into the water and it will point north.”
“That is impossible! You cannot make a compass with water, some coils, and a metal rod,” Len Suward, the village blacksmith, hollered in amazement.
Etan covered his smile quickly but his brother could tell he was pleased at the indignation of an astute and well-respected man. He would also be glad, Tad knew, that everyone in town knew the materials of the contraption; of course he couldn’t make a compass out of such simple materials. Compasses cost more money than Len would accrue in his lifetime.
“A scientist can, Len.”
Etan placed the contraption into the water. Councilman Netwhin was standing close to his shoulder during the entire act to verify authenticity, a requirement Quat had placed on all scientific acts, and gasped as the contraption swiveled to point directly north.
“It is a compass, Len! It has been authenticated.”
The crowd gasped. Tad was shocked. His brother commanded such knowledge at his fingertips?
The crowd cheered, but Etan raised his hand for silence. “My act has yet one more part.”
There was rustling through the crowd as everyone settled back down and Netwhin repositioned himself at Etan’s side.
“I can change north.”
Silence.
Etan moved his hand grandly and Netwhin’s eyes grew as big as bowls.
“The compass moved! It points south now!”
Etan started from his southern position at the bowl and walked slowly around the pedestal as Netwhin’s eyes stayed glued to the bowl. “The compass follows Etan around the bowl as a puppy follows its master. The scientist is north!”
The crowd gasped and Tad was stunned as he beheld awe and reverence in their faces. He didn’t know what to make of his friends’ and neighbors’ reactions; he certainly didn’t feel that way.
Of course, Tad could not imagine how such an act was possible any more than they could. But that is what science was. It was the impossible captured and tamed and held in the fingertips of the Isle of Quat.
Thankfully, two faces were blissfully absent of any such sign: his mother, who had removed herself to her previous spot at the back of the crowd. She looked proud and concerned at the same time. The other was Chet, who rolled his eyes exaggeratedly when Tad’s eyes passed over him. Tad grinned; he could always count on Chet.
When Tad looked back at Etan, his brother was surrounded by people who had known him his entire life but who were now looking at him with rapt faces. He looked well pleased.
Chet approached. “Let’s get out of here, Tad; something smells foul.”
Tad’s eye caught his mother’s, and her look all but shouted for him to come to her immediately. He spoke distractedly, “Thanks Chet, but not right now. I need to ask my Ma a question.”
Tad glanced at Chet as he hurried off, so he knew that Chet’s curiosity had been aroused. Tad was conscious of Chet watching he and Rynn closely, even as the majority of the villagers hung on Etan’s every word, but Tad didn’t have any idea what to do to ensure that Chet’s active imagination wouldn’t investigate further.
“What is it, Ma?” Tad asked quietly as soon as he was in whisper range of his mother.
“I’m afraid you leave tonight, my dear son.” Her eyes misted. “We must go home to prepare before your brother returns.”
Tad sneaked a quick look at his brother and his crowd of admirers. He wouldn’t be coming home any time soon. Tad grinned when he saw Lynna in the crowd, but his face quickly turned to a grimace when he saw Katya was next to her. He didn’t know why that should bother him, but it did.
Tad followed his mother without any further look into the crowd.
“Why do I have to leave tonight? Is it something Etan did?” Tad had to walk quickly to match the pace set by his spooked mother.
“No. Not something he did. His scientific act was just what I would have expected.”
Tad couldn’t imagine that. She had expected something that amazing?
“The problem,” Rynn went on, “was the reaction of everyone else. Their natural skepticism was wiped away by the forcefulness of his act and by his natural charm. If anyone else comes to this town from the Isle of Quat, no one here will show any loyalty to us, son.”
“They’re our friends! They wouldn’t betray us.”
  vvvvv
Rynn smiled at her son’s naïveté. Before long that last shred of childhood would be gone too. She would have time to mourn that later. How she wished she could give her boys a quiet, happy life. But it wasn’t meant to be. Not for any of them.

An Excerpt from The Chronicles of Quat: The Stone by Bryen O'Riley

  Entering Quat City

  Etan rode through Quat City, as always amazed at how different it was from the land of his birth. To enter Quat City, one had to be a Quatist, a scientist, an apprentice, or a support person committed to the way of science. If an apprentice failed the test or a support person sought to leave, he would have his memory of Quat completely dissolved. When they returned to the rest of the world, they would not be able to give away the secret accomplishments of science.
  Clearly, if the commoners knew of the luxuries that Quat enjoyed, they would demand the same for themselves. Without the discipline and understanding of science, however, those luxuries would inevitably corrupt and wreak havoc on the established order. It was deemed best that the commoners should go without, but of course the same did not go for scientists and Quatists. So Quat was a closed city that lived eons ahead of the rest of the world, and all luxuries and advances were strictly kept from the populace at large.
  Etan rode his horse down a main thoroughfare in early evening. The hum of etherlamps rose as one when they came alight simultaneously to banish every shadow from the street. He caught his breath. It was a glorious thing to see the shadows of evening banished by a scientific act. He wished for just one moment that he had been allowed to demonstrate the ether for Idynn. Etan smiled; they would have fallen to the ground in shock. They had hardly been able to fathom his simple compass and how he had changed the direction with a mere magnet.
  It hadn’t been so long ago that he had been as simpleminded as they. He could hardly remember that now, but it was important to recall nonetheless. He didn’t want to forget his humble origins. These were the people he was to advise and rule, after all.
  The streets were wide, with etherlamps lining the street at regular, measured intervals. A few people strode purposefully along, clearly on business they felt was important. Several wore the deep blue mantles of scientists and Quatists but a few were clearly apprentices. This part of Quat was reserved for official use and most people had retired to the residential areas of the city by now, but the faithful few were still working hard to ensure the Isle of Quat and the world beyond were ruled effectively and efficiently.
  The buildings were set back from the street and built of magnificent stone. Each building was without seams or cracks but rather looked as if an enormous solid stone had been set down, hollowed out, and given windows and doors. There was very little decoration on any building in the city, or the entire island for that matter, as scientists are hardly interested in decorating structures. The massiveness of the buildings alone, and their stone-like appearance, was enough to drop the jaw. Each building was nearly identical with a wide door, sometimes a double door, and nearly floor-to-ceiling windows rising directly from street level. These windows reflected like mirrors night and day; they were stacked on top of each other for each level up. Most buildings were not more than four stories high, with most roofs used for gardening and tree-growing. These stately buildings were reserved for official Quat governance or for academic pursuits.
  The walkways between the buildings and the street were laid with large, flat stones cut to the exact same size and lined with evenly spaced trees. There was little dirt to be seen in all of Quat City. Most of the trees had stone paving ringed nearly up to their trunks. The rest of the world offered dirt streets and walkways.
  From behind him Etan heard the whoosh of an approaching railcart and quickly nudged his horse to give it wider berth. It didn’t slow down for him but sped along on its rails without a horse or any living thing to pull it.
  The railcarts worked as if by magic to him; that was a choice of study that was not available to apprentices. But now that he was an official scientist, having passed the final test of his hometown accepting his change in station, he would be able to study and experiment on anything science had to offer.
  Etan turned down a side road and finally saw another person riding a horse. If one had far to travel in Quat City, railcarts were the best way, but for the local neighborhood travel, horses and walking were still used. Etan had come in on the north road, and this was the fastest way to arrive at his neighborhood. If Etan had chosen to stable his horse at the entrance to Quat, he could have ridden the railcart in.
  The side streets were busier, were narrower, and held more people. A horse and cart turned onto the road just ahead of him, and Etan slowed his horse to accommodate the cart’s jostling pace. This side street was cobblestone, which jostled the cart in front of him to no end. The smooth stone of the main road would have felt like a sleigh ride in comparison.
  Most buildings were smaller in the residential neighborhoods, only two stories and made from either brick or wood. These structures had a more comfortable feeling than the academic buildings gave. Etan wondered if the buildings were built in the continental style in part because that is where most people came from and what they associated with home, or if it were merely because the construction was simpler and cheaper. Each neighborhood was centered around one or two slightly larger, but simply built, stone buildings that housed the apprentices.
  He would certainly rather live in the side neighborhoods than in the majestic stone buildings. These smaller houses still had all the amenities that science provided: etherlamps, indoor water pumps, indoor privies, coolboxes like he had made for his mother, and heat that radiated from pipes dispersed through all of the walls and floors. At the same time his neighborhood, made up mostly of apprentices, had felt like a small village to him these past five years. He had gotten to know his neighbors, the grocer, butcher, tailor, and other craftsmen serving the apprentices. He smiled as he came to his street. It felt like home.
  There were many more people out on the streets now. Groups of young men, set free from the confines of their mentors’ expectations and disapproval, cavorted on the sidewalks and walkways. Many had exchanged the plainer mantles worn during work with brighter, more festive versions for their evening activities. Shopkeepers were at their doors announcing specials and offering samples to the young men, and the young ladies of the city had on their brightest mantles and were swaying along the sidewalks in groups as they easily succeeded in catching the eyes of all the apprentices.
  “What’s a scientist doing visiting us lowly apprentices?” a voice spoke from the right side of his horse just as Etan dismounted on the left.
   Etan walked his horse down the alley beside their building, and Hal followed.
  “Nearly have been, a couple of times.” Hallum Wenton grinned, grasping Etan’s forearm in greeting. “What fun would it be to stay on the straight and narrow all the time like…well, like you, actually?”
  Etan raised an eyebrow. “Fun enough to be finished with my apprenticeship while you are still slogging away. How long had you been here when I arrived, again?”
  Hal rolled his eyes. “Only five months, not five years like I know you were thinking.”
  “And how much longer do you think until you are done?”
    
  “If I had an easy master like you I would have been finished years ago, but Scientist Jensen is…exacting. He should just be glad that I haven’t chosen a memory dissolve yet.”
  “You’d never do that. Then you wouldn’t remember me.”
  “That’d be tragic,” Hal said solemnly, then laughed.
  “Besides, that would mean he had won.”
  Hal nodded. “I am close now, though. Old Jensen mentioned the final test within a fortnight. I think he hopes I’ll fail, but I won’t.”
  Etan opened the stable door and led his horse in, with Hal following behind to shut it. Etan removed his bags and the saddle to give the poor beast some much-deserved rest. He had ridden hard to allow himself several days before having to report to his first assigned position as a scientist.
  “No, you won’t fail.”
  Hal gave Etan’s horse a pat. “I didn’t think you were coming back. I thought you were going straight to Gaellyn once your visit was over?”
  “That was my plan but it changed. I found I had some business to sort out here before I started my assignment. I took leave of my mother and rode hard.”
  Hal shook his head. “My ma would skin me alive if I didn’t spend the full two weeks at home with her. She’s threatened to write Jensen herself to hurry my final testing date. Wouldn’t that be a catastrophe?”
  Etan grunted in agreement, his mind racing. It had seemed so simple in Idynn and on the trip back. Come to Quat, find his father, smooth the family tension, and gain a father in return. Now that he was here, he wondered if he had been presumptuous.
  Quat wasn’t as simple of a place as Idynn. The world of scientists and Quatists was much more complex than anything he had experienced up to now as an apprentice. What if his father really did want to kill him? There would be nothing Etan could do to stop a Quatist. His own younger, stronger build would be worthless against the power at his father’s fingertips.
  The difference between a scientist and a Quatist was so vast they shouldn’t be considered the same occupation. It was only the lack of understanding of the common folks that linked the two so closely. True, one must be a scientist to become a Quatist, but that is where the connection stopped.
  Scientists figured out how the world worked and used the rules they learned to interact with the world differently than how they had in the past. Quatists figured out the meaning of the world and used it to break all those rules. Quatists were scientists without boundaries, without ceilings. They didn’t interact with the world; they fundamentally changed it. In fact, some Quatists believed that if a Quatist were strong enough he could change the most basic of scientific rules for all of time. Something a die-hard scientist wouldn’t even consider or want to do.
  Quatists could change rules for certain places for certain times. He had heard of a Quatist who had thrown a cow off the top of the highest tower he could find, but instead of dropping to the ground, the cow floated on the wind until it came to rest gently upon a river bank some 100 meters away. Whether the Quatist changed the mass of the cow for the short period of time, the thickness of the wind, or the Graviton itself, no one knew. Many people, however, had seen the Quatum act and verified it; it couldn’t be doubted.
  Was he really going to walk into his father’s lab and offer his neck?
  Etan was pulled from his thoughts by a rough shaking of his arm. “What?” he looked around in alarm.
  “I was saying,” Hal repeated, irritated, “that we’re all going to The Bearded Goose if you’d like to join us.”
  Etan smiled fondly at the name of his favorite tavern. Every tavern on Quat had a silly, whimsical name, which seemed to be the proprietors’ way of reminding scientists that they should enjoy life as well as study it.
  Etan shrugged. “I may come by in a while. I’m not sure though.”
  Hal nodded and slapped his shoulder. “Glad to see you once more before you report. When your assignment ends, I will certainly be out on mine.”
  “I’m glad to see you too. I’ll probably be over in a while.”
  Hal dropped to one knee and clutched his hands to his chest in jest. “Let us spend some time hanging on every word of an important scientist. That would be such an honor.”
  Etan rolled his eyes and pushed him. “You are going to be unbearable once you’ve attained the Order!”
  “After nearly six years of torture?! You bet I’ll be!” Hal left the stable with a loud laugh and headed back up the alleyway. He always had a bounce in his gait, perfectly suited to his carefree nature.
  Etan gave his horse a fond pat, making sure he was eating well before leaving. He shut the stable door and strode quickly back to the street. He had some errands to run before he could even think of The Bearded Goose.
  After a quick stop to his old rooms to drop off his bags, Etan headed back into the softly lit streets. He wouldn’t have his own apartment in the city until he returned from the two years spent at his first post. Then he would be given apartments that would be his until he chose to apply for a nicer living space as his seniority improved. He was glad that his rooms hadn’t been taken by a newly arrived apprentice yet; he hadn’t wanted to stay in a boarding house, not when his task was so secretive.
  Etan wrapped his mantle about him as he walked back to the main thoroughfare to catch the railcart. There was a cool breeze tonight that managed to slip right down his shirt collar to chill him. He waited at the railcart stopping place closest to his street, pulling his collar up against the wind. Several other apprentices waited beside him, most laden with books or boxes. Etan couldn’t help the small smile that escaped for his liberation from the thumb of a master. It was good to be a free man again. Even during his required two-year post, he wouldn’t have the worry of a master to please. He would only have to do the best job he could as he saw fit.
  He filed onto the railcart after the apprentices. Poor blokes. Some of those boys would have the full five years to go. An apprenticeship could last longer than five years, as in Hal’s case, if the apprentice were particularly slow or if his master was particularly hard to please, but it couldn’t last much less than five years. It didn’t matter how intelligent an apprentice was, there were five years’ worth of information to be learned before an apprentice was ready to be a scientist. Etan was glad to be done.
  Almost 20 minutes later, the railcart stopped in front of the largest, most regal building in the city: the library. Even the governor’s building was not as grand as the library. In keeping with the rest of Quat’s buildings, there was nothing to decorate it. What made the building majestic was its architectural structure. The library looked like an intricate waterfall made out of massive stone. The detail of drops of water hitting rocks was impossible. It was as if a Quatist had turned a waterfall to stone, moved it to the city, and hollowed out the inside of the rock to house the library.
  The entrance of the library was behind the “water” of the falls. One entered either by walking in at the sides of the waterfall or, if one were particularly bold, there were a few open slits in the water made by rocks parting the flow further up the falls. Etan always walked directly under the waterfall because he couldn’t understand how, even after doing it hundreds of times, one still felt that moment of panic when passing directly under the massive weight of stone droplets that, except for inexplicably defying the Graviton, should crush a person passing beneath in an instant. Perhaps it was to demonstrate the crushing weight of responsibility that scientists should feel regarding all the knowledge they had stored up behind the waterfall. Or perhaps it was some early Quatist’s idea of what décor ought to be. Either way, Etan felt his stomach clutch familiarly as he ducked beneath the stone frozenly plummeting to the earth.

I choose to write under a pseudonym and many people have asked me why.  I made this decision based upon a variety of factors:

My real name is long and hard to remember (and spell!), so not the best choice for a pen name. 

Ever since I was a little girl I thought Bryen O'Riley would be a nice name to write under.  There are so many changes to dreams as one grows up - it is nice to be able to see that one through. 
I've always liked keeping my life separate.  When I was a teenager I wanted to keep my school friends and my theatre friends and my 4-H friends and my church friends (etc.) separate.  I don't know why and that is something I have definitely grown out of.  However, I suppose it is a way to keep my private life and my professional life separate.  It is harder when my office is my living room and my "work time" is what I can scrounge up in the midst of a busy day.  Having even a small separation (like a name) is a nice way to keep my roles straight.

And, finally, I like the anonymity that it allows me.  Of course, with social media (like blogs!!) anonymity isn't really anonymous anymore!!!  But it gives me a little bit of anonymity anyway!

You can thank your lucky stars for talented artists.  If it were left to me The Stone would be covered with stick figures and objects (which would have to be labeled for recognition) that would certainly confuse rather than interest readers in the story.

Fortunately, I was not required (or even asked!!) to draw my own cover art.

So -- (drum roll, please!!) --
Here is the cover of The Chronicles of Quat: The Stone:


I would love to hear what you think!!

I read many different genres of books.  Typically, I read historical, romance, classic or mystery but, by far, my favorite genre is fantasy.

In an alternate reality where I can have a "vacation" weekend, I would most likely use that weekend to relax by reading a book.  And if one book of each above-mentioned genre sat before me (in the getaway cottage I would no doubt be staying in!) I would pick up the fantasy book first to read the description and, barring a dud concept, probably wouldn't even read the backs of the other books (even though I like those genres too!  I just prefer fantasy...). 

Here are some reasons I prefer fantasy to other genres:
Because every story should have a sage, a warrior, a magician and a hero (those poor other genres...).Because I know in my heart of hearts that magic, unicorns, and other realms truly exist.Because we all feel like we are meant for a grand adventure but typically live mediocre, boring lives (except for fantasy writers, of course!).Because even our small lives should have an impact on the world around us.Because as you grow up and have to leave off your belief in the wonder and magic of Santa Claus, you do not have to give up your belief in Middle Earth (I still believe in both, thank you very much!!).What did I miss?  Please help me add more reasons for liking fantasy books. 

Why do you like the fantasy genre?

The Chronicles of Quat website is up!  I made the website to give you the opportunity to read some stories from the world of Quat before (and after!) you read the books.

I hope this gives you an idea of the world and people that you can read about in The Stone when it comes out in April.

Please visit the The Chronicles of Quat and keep checking back as I will be adding more stories soon!

Many people have asked how they can help as I publish my first book (thanks!) and I thought I should write a blog post about it. Please know that these suggestions are for anyone who wants to help a friend or family member who is a musician, author, artist, filmmaker, etc. So these are just some thoughts I have as I am preparing to launch this fantasy series.


Support them on social media. Facebook, blogs, twitter, websites, and whichever social media are specific to their medium should have a way to “like” or “follow” or something. This is a great way to encourage your artist both by increasing the number of their “fans” and because usually whoever you are linked with has increased knowledge of the artist and his product so you are helping to spread the word with a simple a an action as a click.

Buy the artist's product. This may seem obvious but it is terribly important and not just because of the money that the artist gets back in their pocket. I think, even more, it is the encouragement of the number of sales going up. Especially in the beginning while the number is low each sale is a boost for the artist, each sale is celebrated. It is a very real way to encourage the artist and support them financially in one.

Tell the artist that you liked it. Your friend or family member is taking a great risk to put their product before the world. That is a stomach-wrenching proposition for most and any confidence boost you can give them is much appreciated.

Write a positive review on their product. Most products would probably be available on Amazon but wherever you can review it— write a NICE one!!! This is a great way to help further sales for your artist. Please do not think you are not allowed to write a review because you know the artist. Every product has reviews by friends or family— It is only a person who is making money from the sale of the product who is not allowed to write reviews.

Do not write a negative review on their product. This comes down to everyone's mama's old advice, “If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.” If you think the product is horrible that is okay. Just abstain from writing a review at all. (Note to artist: Don't nag people about writing a review! It may be they are doing you a favor by NOT writing it!) If you can find something nice to say (“It's a great concept.” “The rhythm is awesome!”) that is great. I am sure that would be appreciated but if you can't come up with anything— don't review it. Remember art is subjective, some people will like what other people will hate and vice versa. And if you feel that you need to warn people not to buy the terrible book, album, film— Don't worry someone else will give it a negative review for you. It is painful enough to get a negative review from anyone but it is especially hurtful to get one from a friend or relative. Remember you want to help your artist not hurt them.

Tell everyone that you know an artist who has just come out with an album, book, film, or artwork and they should check it out! It is very helpful to the artist to have their friends and family help to spread the word about their product. You are multiplying their efforts— What a great way to support your friend or family member!

Thank you for wanting to support your artist's endeavors!

I listen to country, Irish, bluegrass, rock (the good old stuff) and Broadway show music.  What do these music types have in common and why do I like them?  Easy.  They all tell stories.   And I am always amazed that in 3 verses and a chorus they can get their story across.  (*Some Irish songs have  LOT more than 3 verses!!)

I am a novelist.  It takes me around 100,000 words to get my story across.  So I astounded by the precision that songwriters use to convey their ideas.

And what about choruses?  They are practically magic!  How can the verses further the story but the chorus still applies to each later part of the story?  Absolutely amazing!
This morning, I was listening to a Phil Vassar song and the story was so great I just wanted to sit down right there and write a novel about it! 

So, here is a novelist singing the praises of songwriters who are able to tell a full story-- in what?-- 300 words?  Incredible.

Here are some songs with good stories in them (I linked to a lyric website for you!):
--Connemara by the Lake, Irish (a favorite since I was a little girl)
-Let Mr. McGuire Sit Down, Irish Rovers (very fun song!)
-basically any Broadway show (I really like The Scarlet Pimpernel - here's one of my favorites from that show)
-In A Real Love, Phil Vassar (what I heard this morning - great description in verses!!)
-Scenes from an Italian Restaurant or Lenningrad or Downeaster Alexa, Billy Joel (there are many great stories in Billy Joel songs!  He is just plain awesome!)

There are many, many more great ballads than just these songs so for a story in a hurry - listen to some music!