Here are nine prompts to help you expand your experience. * Write words describing your atmosphere--the quality of air. * What are clouds doing? Can you see animals in their shapes? * The temperature of your location. * The source of light and its quality. * Where are people standing or sitting? * Shadows, are they're any? Where and how do they fall? * Predominant colors, wall colors, wallpaper, molding, chair railing, textured ceiling. * What do you smell? Using comparisons are a great way to relate to your reader. The air feels like just getting out of fogged shower stall. * Are there other people around you? How do they smell, their clothes, their shoes? Guess at what they might do for a living. Are they dressed like someone on their way to work, doesn't work, a mom, dad, baker, or what?

After you are comfortable describing your environment, spice exercise up another notch. Compare your descriptive words to something else. For example: The room you are sitting in feels like a sauna with my clothes on.

Continue spicing up exercise to increase your awareness and descriptive powers--use people and objects. Since you are most familiar with yourself, begin there.

After practicing on most familiar subject, yourself, create a list of other familiar people in your life. Then sort list from most familiar to least. Continue down list. Somewhere during these lists and practice sessions, you will begin to feel comfortable with your skill.

You can continue taking exercise to another level. This time you are ready to expand your awareness and adaptation to words. Visit local mall; sit in food court for smorgasbord of new enriching thoughts-to-words experiences.

Here are 11 prompts to help you expand your levels: * Describe what you are wearing. * How does your body feel? * What are your hands doing? * How does your throat feel? * How are you holding your mouth? * Eye movement * Breathing * How do you feel in general, in detail? * Name your mood. Does it have a flavor and color? * Describe your feelings with reference to music. A certain song or type of music. * How does your hair smell, clothes, chair you're sitting on, book you're reading?

Be patient with yourself while practicing. This exercise isn't easiest to complete, however, it is most effective. Even if you aren't a writer, this exercise will help you triple your awareness skills in a short time period1. This exercise also helps police officers, speakers, judges, attorneys, or anyone else that uses their awareness skills to see and put it into words. This is also a NLP--neurolinguistics programming skill--for those aware of this process.

But, then comes marketing. Biggest pain in the... Well, let's just say it makes me want to not publish sometimes. So, why publish?

I've entered EPPIES twice, and been a finalist both times. Off top of my head, I can think of no other ebook award that gets my attention. The second time one of my books was an EPPIE finalist, I made some wisecrack in an author's egroup about how "finalist" is a synonym for "loser" and was raked over coals.

Oops!

(Maybe I annoyed entrants who weren't finalists. I'd always wondered if they existed...)

So, let's say I'm not publishing for money or awards. They sing a siren song to new authors which this jaded old bastard quit hearing long ago. Really, I got all that mess out of my system in previous millenium. So, why do I still publish? What are my rewards? Let me mention a few.

A psychologist turned English teacher formed a women's reading group at university where we once worked together in China. Her concept was women readers, women writers. But first book group ever discussed was my very own RISING FROM THE ASHES, which is about Mom. My only foray into "women's literature." I couldn't attend reading group, since I'm a guy, but my wife was there. What I learned about my book is priceless, as is knowing what those young students discussed because of my writing. Issues of such depth that I'd be proud to inspire any student, in any country, in any language, to tackle them.

I used to work on North Carolina hog farms. I enjoyed company of some damn fine people at every one of them. Hog farming is hard work. This isn't backyard family farm, folks, this is 13 people with 98 boars, 3500 sows, and all babies they can make. One of my toughest coworkers was a lesbian who could break Xena in half, and my one foray into writing horror gave her nightmares.

I don't consider myself a poet, and I believe most of reading world agrees with me. But, I have published 6 poems. There is one that a hog farm coworker insists will be read at his funeral. Don't ask me why he was planning his funeral during our lunch break because I have no idea. But, well, I guess I'm invited, in a manner of speaking. Back when I was young enough to plan my own funeral, it involved a friend playing Elton John's FUNERAL FOR A FRIEND. So, compared to Sir Elton John, I know a guy who would prefer that somebody read MY poetry. Freaky.

Master Pizza, 30th Street, Tampa, Florida. A bunch of drunken Italian relatives reading one of my less-than-serious poems ALOUD between pitchers of beer. It was like a Joe Dolce moment.

I was working as a security guard in a particularly unpleasant place. This was 17 years ago, I think. A fellow guard read one of my short stories. It is, by far, most allegorical thing I've ever written. I can't tell you how many times I've thought about throwing it out. But then, I remember Bob's words. "This is me. This is my life." Me too, old pal, and I don't care if you and I are only two readers to have any idea what I'm talking about. {Scapegoat Bob!}

I've written some pretty heady volumes, but I've also written quite a few short works. I've heard from numerous students here in China that, "This is first book in English I've ever finished reading." When I write, I certainly never set out to help anyone learn English. (Some of my editors may claim I never learned language.) And, students will LIE to teachers. But I've decided that at least one was telling truth.

When I left US, I embarked on several journeys. Learning to live in China. Learning to love again. Taking another shot at writer dream. And, eventually, teaching. After all that, I tried my hand at writing humor for first time. Every time I hear my wife laugh at something I've written, I file it away as a reason to keep writing.

I've written one play in my life. I was young, and quite hooked on album (pre-CD days) JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR. So, you guessed it, I tackled JC. I wrote something that nobody can read without having a powerful reaction. Readers love it or they hate it. I'm proud of that. And hey, it's only one act long. I have a short attention span.

I loaned Clint "Two Dawgs" Hill my very first book. My cousin. He took it to Durham (North Carolina) and loaned it to a bunch of hippie buddies. He asked for another, because first one fell apart from overuse. That's why we publish. People all but fighting for chance to read my words. And heck, book wasn't even good yet. It's 20 years older now.

I mention all this for jaded old bastards who have a few novels and bit of minor success under their belts. Nobody else is reading this anymore, are they?

So, maybe this is why we don't just stop when book is written, stick it in a drawer, and uncork champagne. Although I do hope you uncorked champagne. This planet contains far too many people who "want to be authors" but who haven't written a book. Never have, never will. Meanwhile, you and I are sitting here knowing we had no choice. We had to write.

And now, I guess it's time to publish. WHO MOVED MY RICE? is available from Books Unbound.

Michael LaRocca's website at http://freereads.topcities.com was chosen by WRITER'S DIGEST as one of The 101 Best Websites For Writers in 2001 and 2002. He published four novels in 2002 and another in 2004. He also works as an editor for an e-publisher. He teaches English at a university in Shaoxing, Zhejiang Province, China, and publishes the free weekly newsletter Mad About Books.