94th Annual Writer's Digest Writing Competition

Death and Theft

Entering contests has been a thing of mine for a while, and I’ve earned an honorable mention here and there, even had a story (or two) published once upon a time.  I find contests, with their deadline and confines, to be a challenge, an exercise that allows me to hone my craft.

Gotta say, it was super cool to get an email that started with Congratulations!

Read the full announcement: 

94th Annual Writer’s Digest Writing Competition Winner List

Thanks so much for stopping by. Until next time, find your creative, embrace you, stay sane(ish).

Best, Aspen Hite

Blog Reboot 2025

 

The Barker and the Destroyer

It’s been a hot minute and then some. Crazy how life just takes hold, and before you know it, another year has passed, and you haven’t even posted a blog. Yet on we go.

Life keeps us busy, but the time has come to think about all that writing-adjacent stuff that comes with the writing (blogs, and social media, and promo, oh my!).

Admittedly, that stuff is hard for me. Hard for me to say, ‘Hey, world, look at me’, but here I am giving it a go… 

A fairly pressing question: Do people even blog anymore?

Here's a call to my Gen X reading-non-video people: Get those reading glasses and enlarge the screen. This Blog Reboot is for you (us)!

Books (writing and reading), dogs, yoga, glimmers, smiles, inspiration, haunted mansions, and all things in between, especially anything that raises the vibration. 

To kick off this reboot, I thought I’d share a few favorites of my two greatest muses. BoRegard (Bo) and Oliver (Ollie) Twist. These two knuckleheads are lunatic jerk-faces. The black one is the Barker with his deep yet sharp ear-piercing, blood-curdling barks, startling enough to make you jump out of your seat. The white one is the Destroyer. He looks sweet and innocent, but in thirteen minutes alone, he’ll shred a newspaper. Give him a few hours, and he will devour books and yoga mats, along with a bit of the couch, any dog bed, rugs, boxes, paper, plants, and crystals. Most recently, my favorite annotated writing craft book, which is beyond priceless, so he’s lucky he's cute. 

As much as they drive me nutso facto, they're as sweet and snuggly as the day is long. They would do their best to rip an intruder’s face right off. And they make me laugh. Everyday. Would I trade them for dogs with opposable thumbs who can pitch in and generate revenue? You betcha. Kidding. #lovemydogs

Looking forward to sharing more on this #blogreboot journey of mine. If there’s anything you’d like to see on here, drop me a note in the comments, and I’ll do what I can. Thanks so much for stopping by! 

Until next time, find your creative, embrace you, stay sane(ish)

Best, Aspen Hite

Thirteen Years

 

📷 credit: Tumisu

Thirteen Years 

I had to be in 8th grade, sitting on the back patio with my younger brother as he taught me to inhale a cigarette. We grew up with a smoker (in the car, the bathroom, the kitchen, and the living room). A cloud of smoke was normal, and for a LONG time, I thought of it as a sign of fun and sophistication.

Thank the heavens, perspectives change.

For many years (nineteen, to be exact), I was a die-hard smoker. I mean, it was so "relaxing" anytime. There was nothing better than a smoke after a good meal, especially if wine and adult beverages were involved. Or in the morning with coffee. Enjoying a book. After sex. In the car. On a break from work. Getting ready for a night out. All the time.

I lit up for just about any reason and was one of those young 20-somethings who would roll into the gym parking lot with a cig hanging out of my mouth and then light one up before I pulled out of the parking lot afterward. 

For many years, I justified my smoking by telling myself I’d quit when it caught up to me physically. I mean, I made it to the gym five times a week. I was 'healthy." One day, I noticed the new lines around my mouth and under my eyes. My skin was dull. And then, I had to pause at the top of the stairs. 

For the following six months, I smoked in blinding denial of the damage and havoc I was inflicting on my sweet meat suit, my temple, my body, the only home I have. Until one day, I saw things clearly and my denial fell away.

That day was Saturday, March 19, 2011.

I’d just returned home to Arizona after meeting my youngest niece for the first time. This entailed a quick (long) roundtrip cross-country road trip with a husband and two dogs, none of whom traveled well in a not-so-large vehicle. 

Upon returning to my cozy ranch outside of Phoenix, I made sure all was well, and all creatures were accounted for before I toddled out to the patio with my bottle of wine, a pack of smokes, and a stack of gossip magazines to decompress from travel. 

That Saturday night, I devoured the magazines, polished off the wine, and inhaled half the pack. 

It was the last time I smoked a cigarette. 🚭

Between sheer willpower and support (data) from an app (ironic because I hate apps), I quit smoking cold turkey thirteen years ago. 

Not a single drag since, and by far one of my favorite decisions.

***Side note: I also ditched gossip magazines unless I’m flying. Then, the mindless flipping keeps my mind at bay during take-off when I often imagine the plane spontaneously combusting at 10,000 feet – the joy of anxiety and a writer’s imagination. ✈️

Also (more) noteworthy: What happens when someone kicks the habit? The effects of the health benefits begin immediately and last the rest of your life.

According to the American Cancer Society:

Within minutes of smoking your last cigarette, your body begins to recover:

20 minutes after quitting		Your heart rate and blood pressure drop.
A few days after quitting		The carbon monoxide level in your blood drops to normal.
2 weeks to 3 months after quitting		Your circulation improves and your lung function increases.
1 to 12 months after quitting		Coughing and shortness of breath decrease. Tiny hair-like structures (called cilia) that move mucus out of the lungs start to regain normal function, increasing their ability to handle mucus, clean the lungs, and reduce the risk of infection.
1 to 2 years after quitting		Your risk of heart attack drops dramatically.
5 to 10 years after quitting		Your risk of cancers of the mouth, throat, and voice box (larynx) is cut in half. Your stroke risk decreases.
10 years after quitting		Your risk of lung cancer is about half that of a person who is still smoking (after 10 to 15 years). Your risk of cancer of the bladder, esophagus, and kidney decreases.
15 years after quitting		Your risk of coronary heart disease is close to that of a non-smoker.

These are just a few of the health benefits of quitting smoking for good, but there are others, too.

Quitting smoking lowers your risk of other cancers over time as well, including cancers of the stomach, pancreas, liver, cervix, and colon and rectum, as well as acute myeloid leukemia (AML).

Quitting also lowers your risk of diabetes, helps your blood vessels work better, and helps your heart and lungs.

Quitting smoking can also add as much as 10 years to your life, compared to if you continued to smoke. Quitting while you're younger can reduce your health risks more (for example, quitting before the age of 40 reduces the risk of dying from smoking-related disease by about 90%), but quitting at any age can give back years of life that would be lost by continuing to smoke.

Sadly, I remember puffing on and then eating those candy cigarettes when I was a kid –  a great idea to hook them young. I knew then that I would be a smoker. I also knew someday I would be a non-smoker. 

Thirteen years.

As always, thank you for stopping by. I’d love to hear your comments below. 

Until next time: Be creative. Find your wild side. Stay sane(ish). ✌️

The Soul Takes Time

 

📷credit: geralt

In the Darkness of the New Moon, I'm embracing new beginnings, letting go of endings, seeing new perspectives, and facing fears...

Behold my symmetrical gathering of words, a mini story in poem form, a menagerie of free verse and chaos with a dash of rhythm, rhyme, and repetition.

The Soul Takes Time

I am right where I need to be

To be right where I need to be.

Time after time

It could have gone differently,

That’s true, you see.

Lacking a readiness

A new purpose to the past.

Thirsty with desire

Push and shove

Zoom zoom to the top

Reach the goal

Gather the prize

Achieve it all

Take it home

Make it your own.

Over and over

Essence was lost

Nothing but an empty

Only a void

Filled with the unfulfilled

Dark and dreary

Such a heavy cost

For all that was lost.

Sing into the song of the wind

Find your sway in each day

The soul sought takes time,

And time again.

Lesson after lesson

Wisdom and strength

Grow from within

Blossom and bloom

Again after again.

I am right where I need to be

To be right where I need to be.

It's been a while since I've dabbled in poetry, so I'd love to hear your thoughts on this latest WIP.  

Thank you so much for stopping by. 

Until next time: Be creative. Find your wild side. Stay sane(ish). ✌️

Happy International Writers' Day

 

📷credit: Chen

Can I See Your ID? 

Last night, I cruised through Hit-N-Run (a drive-thru convenience store where a human comes to your car, takes your order, gathers your items from the store, and then brings them to you in your car).

The young clerk (probably 20-ish, but he looked 12) took my order.

Him: Can I see your ID?

Me: Aww…aren’t you sweet.
Him: Why’s that, ma’am (the tell-tale lingo for an old lady)?
Me (as I reach for my ID): Well, I’m gonna be 49 this year.
Him: You know, ma’am, 49 isn’t that old; it’s like middle age.
Me: I’m not sure I’m gonna make it to 100.
His face drops. Him: Oh yeah. I guess not. (Then he works really hard to recover). But you know, ma’am, you really only look about 32, maybe even 30.

He smiled at me and collected payment before he walked back inside. Grinning and giddy, but without any cash on hand, I rifled around the vehicle gathering, every last quarter I could find and gave them all to him as a tip. He thanked me profusely. And I him.

He was a sweet kid, and he's gonna need all his extra cash for a good eye doctor. 👀🤷‍♀️🤣

The End

I appreciate you stopping by. Feel free to leave your thoughts on this super-short Creative Nonfiction in the comments section. 

Until next time: Be creative. Find your wild side. Stay sane(ish). ✌️

~Aspen Hite

Out With the Old; In With the New

📷credit: Mohamed_hassan 

Out With the Old; In With the New

Time is a funny, fickle thing. In some moments, I feel silly and young and alive, like I’m 17, and in other moments, I’m tired, like I’ve lived 117 years and a thousand lifetimes. Somehow, in a way I don’t really understand, this year flashed in the blink of an eye. As 2023 ends, I like to reflect on how I spent the year. 

What have I been doing? My knee-jerk response is to shrug and say, “I don’t know. Nothing.” But in truth, I’ve been busy working, teaching, reading, resting, letting go of all that no longer serves, and easing into all that is meant for me. Some of it’s heavy stuff. 

But I’ve also been writing. In fact, I spent a good chunk of the year tuning out the world and writing. I am beyond grateful for that opportunity because the grown-up outside world can come knocking, like a wise guy barging in to break your legs. So, I am humbled and thankful for that time.

At the beginning of the year, I tried hard to have an online presence. However, convincing strangers I'm a writer takes a lot of work. It worked for a while (welcome to the odd time in the 21st century, where we talk more than we do). One day, I had nothing left to post on my blog, and I’d spent too much time focusing on social media. It was the literal antithesis of where I wanted to be. 

I needed a kick in the pants, so I got out of my comfort zone and went to a writers' conference. Not only were there some great workshops, but I also got feedback from industry professionals and pitched to an agent who asked to see the first 50 pages of my novel! It was an INVALUABLE experience. 

After some polish and shine, I sent the pages to the agent and waited, checking my email every ten minutes while simultaneously planning the agent’s delighted response. (Ever see A Christmas Story where Ralphie envisions his teacher’s joy at reading his essay? It was a bit like that.) She was going to love it. I was on Cloud Nine. This was it; my time had come. 

But I also had a genuine problem. I had embellished (it’s what writers do) the completion level of the novel. I was only about halfway through and still needed a middle, a climax, and an ending (roughly 30,000 words). I DID have an outline and an idea (or two). So I wrote. Tuned out the world, and spun a tale.

I put all my energy into finishing that novel. Short stories and blogs sat incomplete and unfinished. The online posts stopped. My reading slowed, and I almost forgot about my word game. The only thing in my crosshairs was telling that story. 

One day in mid-June, I finished. It wasn’t shiny and polished, but I’d told the tale. With nothing but radio silence from the agent, I let the first book simmer and immediately got to work on the second one. I was on a roll.

Finally, a response from the agent came. I was giddy until I opened the email. 

The agent passed on the story. To her credit, she was kind and even offered specific areas of improvement. And she was right, but now what? My dream of a smooth path to publication (after ten years) was just gone. Poof. Snap of the fingers. In one email. Gone. 

It took a hot second to allow the disappointment to fade, but then things became clearer: 

1. I’d made writing a priority, and I had two new novels and a third in rough outline form. All of it had been to show myself I could do it. 

2. It was time to stop fucking around. Stumbling around aimlessly, trying to be a writer was over.  I didn’t need any more ways to NOT write a bestseller. I needed to learn—the tricks of the trade, the ins and outs. 

So, after jumping through several flaming hoops and almost getting lost in paperwork, I’ve been accepted into a Master of Fine Arts in Writing program. 

Brand new story beginning January 2024. Is it going to lead me to a life of best-selling novels (and that private island I’m always going on about)? Probably not, but as I learn from local industry professionals, I’m open to discovering my niche to see where it leads. Hopefully, to a revenue-generating career where I can entertain people with stories and positively impact the lives of readers of all ages. Perhaps I wind up back in a classroom or write a Kids' Yoga book (better yet, the next bestseller turned Netflix series). Maybe self-publishing, editing, or freelance writing will fit my lifestyle better. Time will tell. 

For now, I’m embracing the present, celebrating the lessons of 2023, and having faith in the ebb and flow of the journey.

Endless possibilities loom on the horizon, each filled with challenges and lessons, all filled with learning and laughter (to keep me balanced). 

Wishing you a wonderful New Year. May 2024 bring you peace, joy, and blessings. 💜

Until next time… 

Be creative. Find your wild side. Stay sane(ish). 

Aspen Hite ✌️

A Writer Musing: Writer Workshop Day

A Writer Musing: Writer Workshop Day

I love to learn. I love to write. When I have the opportunity to learn more about writing, I’m giddy. 

Recently, I attended a Writers' Workshop in St. Louis, MO. Despite a sleepless night before, a dreary day, cold temps (in and out of the building), and a clogged ear making it hard(er) to hear, it was a fantastically awesome day.

The Four Classes 

Class #1: Common Pitfalls in Publishing

Hybrid author, Katie Otey, shared her writer-life experiences and advice. Invaluable information, plus she's a super cool lady. 

Class #2: Everything You Need to Know About Agents and Query Letters 

Kourtney Price laid all the nitty gritty for those pesky query letters and finding the right agent. 

Class #3: 10 Surefire Ways to Strengthen your Writing 

Kerrie Flanagan, author and facilitator of the event, not only gave us a list but also read real-world examples AND offered the audience opportunities to create smooth, fluid writing. 

Class #4: Pros and Cons of Traditional and Indie Publishing

Laura Benedict held nothing back as she delivered all the bottom-line details of traditional publication and self-publication. An eye-opening experience. 

Other Noteworthy Events

Agent Pitch: I pitched to esteemed literary agent Bonnie Swanson. It was a quick and dirty 10-minute segment. It was the highlight of the day!

Writer’s Got Talent: A First Page Critque-Fest

Every writer in attendance had the opportunity to anonymously enter the first page of their manuscript. Several were randomly selected to be read aloud not only to the group but also to a panel of industry professionals (authors, agents, and editors). 

As the narrator read the pages to the room, the panelist would hold up a hand whenever they would stop reading. At the end of each page, the panelists provided feedback. 

The first page was a paranormal genre and MINE! Holy hells. My heart ricocheted around in my chest, and at one point, I could barely hear the feedback (my clogged ear didn't help). Feverishly, I scribbled notes to reflect on when I got home. An absolutely priceless experience. 

My Takeaway:

The opportunity to learn from experts in the writing world changed my perspective and provided new insight. This workshop was the push I needed to propel my writing forward.