3 Ways to Be More Concise

Writers tend to be wordy, even though everyone says to write concisely. The truth is that’s normal. Concise writing takes work. The way we write is much different from the way we talk, so what might sound normal out loud doesn’t always translate well in a story (see, I’m being wordy right now).

3 Ways to Be More Concise

Can Friends Keep You Healthy?

One of the greatest challenges facing older adults is loneliness. When we are younger, we are often surrounded by partners, children, and friends. As we age, though, spouses and friends may no longer be with us, and in our highly mobile society, children often move away from where they grew up. Being surrounded by loving […]

Can Friends Keep You Healthy?

The Benefits of Travel for Older Adults

It is getting to be that time of the year; the travel season in the northern hemisphere is almost in full swing. With warmer weather comes the desire to get out and see the world–nearby and further away. Last year when I turned 60, my aunt (who is in her 80s) told me that the […]

The Benefits of Travel for Older Adults

Someday Always Comes, chapter 2 – excerpt

Someday Always Comes, chapter 2 – an excerpt

Fernando ran with a small, seemingly fearless posse of bodyguards and anyone who crossed him ended up dead, or worse, and trust me…dead was much better than worse. Dead is just dead. But Fernando’s worst was gruesome. Broken bones, missing teeth, gouged out eye, no tongue, missing foot, missing fingers, and a broken spine. I’m definitely not making that up. The dude lived, but not to talk about it. I’d rather be dead.

I didn’t like to stare at Fernando’s face for too long. His chilling eyes were a strange brown color that I can’t accurately describe. In the dim, florescent lighting of Duk’s, they appeared crimson-brown, like dried blood. When he looked at me, his eyes told the tale that he could brutally murder me and then observe my dead body for hours without remorse, wallowing in the quiet joy that comes after the orgasmic rush that murdering someone causes for the ruthless contact killer.

Copyright 2023 Wanda Paryla

What Happened To Me?

I just wanted to touch base here for any readers who’ve been checking in on my posts.

Evidently I was ill for some time and didn’t realize it. Long story short I had an infection and ended up with sepsis. So I have not really posted on here since the first week of December, and that’s why.

I was hospitalized for four days, and then had to fight it at home. I had to get myself antibiotic infusions via PICC line. That was not fun having that thing in my arm for so many days, but we do what we have to to survive.

Anyway, I’m doing much better and feel like myself again. I hope to add some more excerpts and different things to my blog. I found some poems that I would like to add as well.

I’vebeen on sick leave since Dec. 11, and can return to work Jan. 2nd. Also, it’s back to the office for me beginning Jan. 2nd. I’ve been working from home since the start of the pandemic in March of 2020. The last couple years we’ve been on rotation also two times a year for approximately 2 weeks. But now we’re going back full time. I’m not looking forward to it. Not because it’s going into the office, but I don’t think they should have brought back all 200 of us at once. They should have slowly brought in smaller groups, group by group, to avoid disease and illness, and I really wish they would have waited closer to spring. We were actually supposed to still be on work from home until about June 2026.

So that’s what’s been up. Thanks for reading!

Someday Always Comes, chapter 1 – excerpt

Hi all, this book is already published on Amazon for a long time now. It was proof-read but never had a professional edit. I am re-editing this book because the one complaint that stood out to me was that it was long, but even that criticism was often followed up with other positive comments similar to: despite the length…the passages always moved forward.

I had three great friends who proofread the book for me, and now with Storm Dwellers going to the editor, I have time to work on these edits. I would love to re-release this story after a professional edit. I’ve learned a lot about writing, editing and publishing since I wrote and released this book. One thing I’ve learned is to never, ever release a self-published book without a professional edit. Save the money – take an extra job, work overtime, beg your family, but never release unedited.

I’ve written a lot of things that I love, but this is my soul. Someday Always Comes is written in the First Person for a reason. My heart is in this book. It will never make me famous, but if one can birth a book, this is my child. Every emotion I’ve ever felt in my life is in this book. Someone asked me about ten years ago if this is based on a true story. No, it’s not…not really. They asked me if the characters were real people from my teen years. Maybe…maybe not. Really, anything is just coincident. For sure.

Once it’s nearing time for a professional edit, I will choose wisely, and I hope to turn to the original cover artist for an updated cover.

Most of you have probably not read it, and I have not posted about it here for years. As I said, I am just starting edits and I am only on chapter one. Here is a bit of chapter one…still raw…and maybe you’ll find some mistakes. Regardless, enjoy.

SOMEDAY ALWAYS COMES, chapter 1 – excerpt

“What you lookin’ at, girl?” Dino said, snarling his lip.

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m not looking at you.”

“Shut up, Dino,” Kiki said. “She’s not bothering you. I’ll make her breakfast and she’ll go to her room. Just quit it.”

We were silent for a minute as I studied the floor, trying to avoid looking at Dino but his powerful, icy stare was like a magnet, compelling me to glance at him.

“Watchin’ me, are ya, girl? Huh?” He glared at me through the long bangs of his dirty, long hair.

“No, I’m not. Leave me alone,” I said.

“You want some of this?” Dino gestured toward the bloody, rare but scorched T-bone steak on his plate.

The sight of its bloody juices mixed up with the scrambled eggs made me queasy.

“No.”

Dino smirked as he cut a piece of steak. He gave a perverse grin with his greasy lips.

“Sure you don’t want some of my meat?”

He taunted me with the sickening thing before putting it in his mouth.

“What? No.”

He stared at me the whole time, chewing, sneering like a devil-possessed possum. Blood oozed from the steak as Dino cut another piece of the meat from the center of it and jabbed his fork into it.

“Here, you want this?” He said, as he slowly leaned toward me.

Kiki stopped cooking, turning her attention on us.

“Stop it,” she said.

“No,” I said. “I don’t want it!”

He held the meat up in front of my face. His breath smelled of raw flesh and coffee and my guts wrenched.

“Here,” he said, “eat it,” he ordered.

Nauseous from extreme hunger, my stomach churned at the sight and smell of the mangled, bloody meat. I turned my face away and held my breath, trying to hold down the vomit boiling in my gut.

“I don’t want it.”

Dino plucked the beef from his fork with his grimy fingers then threw the fork down on the table. It bounced off and landed on the floor.

“Dino, leave her alone!” Kiki demanded. “She’s not bothering you.”

In a split second, he grabbed me by my hair and tried to force the half-cooked meat into my mouth and a struggle ensued. Kiki grabbed Dino’s hand that held my hair trying to free me. I fought against him. I squeezed my lips tightly together and frantically shook my head back and forth so that he could not force the thing into my mouth.

“Let her go, Dino!” Kiki yelled as she tried to free me from his grasp.

“Eat it, you little bitch!” Dino yelled.

I’m unsure if the chair I sat in gave way, or if Dino forced it, but it fell backwards taking me with it. My head hit the floor. Free of Dino’s grasp and fighting back the pain in my head, I jumped up and ran, tripping over my own feet. I headed for my bedroom, Dino stumbling behind me.

“Come on, girl!” He yelled.

I locked my bedroom door with the renter’s lock Kiki installed on it the summer before then slid the chain across. All that steel to keep the devil out of my room. I shoved a rectangular, rubber doorstopper under the door then backed away from it, shaking. I frantically looked for some escape, but we lived on the second floor with no easy way out.

“Mary Tessa, open this damned door!” Dino yelled.

“Go away! You rotten bastard!” I screamed. “Leave me alone!”

I slid my small dresser in front of the door, then grabbed my favorite book off the headboard of my bed, then ducked into the closet and closed the door. I closed my eyes, held my breath, and willed myself – or maybe forced myself – to be quiet so that Dino didn’t have the pleasure of hearing me cry.

Oh, Scarlett, tell me what to do.

Dino banged against the bedroom door. I feared for my life. I didn’t want him to get in. I squeezed my eyes tightly and covered my ears.

“Oh, God,” I whispered in the dark. “Go back to hell, demon.”

I sat there in the dark closet, trying to meditate my way out of the situation. I took deep breaths: I went out onto my window ledge, and sat there until a kindly, brave fireman came and rescued me from the place. In my opinion, out of all the people who allegedly care about other people, the firefighter is the most selfless. I secretly wanted to run away and hide in a firehouse where they wouldn’t let Dino hurt me.

Dino banged and kicked at my bedroom door, his combat boot landing hard against the heavy oak door. Die. Have a massive heart attack you monster and go to hell. Please, God. Kill him. Kill him.

“Dino, stop it!” Kiki yelled. “Why are you doing this?”

I sat on the closet floor for what seemed like forever. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t hovering near my bedroom door, listening; waiting for me to make a peep. I held on to my favorite bible, Gone with the Wind. My mother loved the story and I imagined she talked to me through Scarlett, teaching me to be a strong woman. Teaching me to fight for what’s worth holding on to and let go of the rest.

I desperately needed to get rid of the rich, revolting taste of the meat’s blood from around my mouth. I used my sleeve to try to wipe my face clean. Eventually, the kicking and cursing ceased, and I crept out of the closet. Crying quietly, I sat on my bed contemplating. Plotting what my life might be like if someday I got free of Dino and Kiki.

I looked forward to breakfast that day – a rarity in our household. I hadn’t eaten much for the prior few days. I only wanted a few bites of scrambled egg. Again though, I didn’t get anything to eat. I went back to my closet and rummaged around, pulling out a box of Pop Tarts and a can of Pepsi. The sugary treats were better than not eating anything at all.

My best friend, Brianna, gave me food and I’d hide it from Dino so that I could eat something when he didn’t let me stay at the kitchen table. I ate the three Pop Tarts that were in the box and drank the can of Pepsi, quite thankful that I had them.

I stayed low key, hiding in my bedroom for the rest of the morning to avoid them both. Playing Def Leppard low on my stereo and smoking cigarettes I stole from Kiki, I bided my time. Habitually by midmorning they usually engaged in drinking and smoking dope and hopefully I could sneak out.

On and off that morning, I heard arguments going on in the living room or pots and pans banging around in the kitchen. Eventually the yelling and noises stopped. Occasionally, I could hear the sounds of the phone or doorbell. With every ring or buzz, I prayed it was a way out of the apartment for me.

After a couple of hours, my inflating bladder compelled me to leave my cave. I needed to use the toilet, and Dino-be-damned if I’d piss in a pile of dirty clothes like I did the last time this shit happened. I slid the dresser away from the door and slinked into the bathroom on my tiptoes. I could hear the television playing loudly in the living room. I relieved myself, washed my face and hands, brushed my teeth then went back to my bedroom where I hid again peacefully for quite some time, lying on my bed, listening to the radio and staring at the ceiling. However, every good thing ends.

A huge argument developed between Dino and Kiki in the living room. I turned down the stereo so I could eavesdrop. I heard cursing, things being thrown about, and eventually Kiki in the kitchen banging cabinet doors and jabbering aloud, wishing Dino dead. Her mutterings and slurred speech told me she was drunk or high. Things got calm again and I turned my radio back up. I shut my eyes and listened to my stomach rumble.

“What the hell, Mary Tessa!” Kiki shocked me alert and I jumped off the bed. She yelled over what she pretended to be horribly loud music coming from my room as she pounded her hand repeatedly against my bedroom door. “Turn down that heavy metal trash! Don’t you have something to do on Halloween? I can’t stand you hangin’ around here all the damn time. For Christ’s sake, go out and do something!”

I’d been waiting for a window of opportunity all morning. I could leave.

“It’s only noon, Kiki!” I yelled.

“I don’t give a crap if it’s midnight. Go hang out with your boyfriend, Seth, or find something else to do!”

“Sweet’s not my boyfriend!”

Copyright 2023 Wanda S. Paryla

Chicago Down, chapter 1 – excerpt

Chicago Down, chapter 1 – an excerpt

He wanted Salbatora to take care of business in the end. He trusted her and only her to do it. After all, she owed him, and she believed in payment of debts. Yet, he was her friend. And she, his. Despite the world’s perception of Al Capone, he was honestly kind to her and never asked anything in return for all he had done for her over the years. Nothing at all. He never put the moves on her, or asked for any sort of sexual favors, or payment in some other shady way. When she had nothing, he had it all, and he offered some to her, Salbatora, a lost Texan looking for her family. Salbatora, who lost her family, found it, and then lost it all over again for the good of humankind.

Al, he admired her. No doubt that her tenaciousness, bluntness, bravery, and the way she accepted success and defeat, life and death, with sophistication was a few of the many reasons why he thought she was worth something.

 She wandered past everyone, barely aware of them. She imagined the blood of her friend being upon her hands and she broke down out on the veranda. All alone. It took only an instant though, for the valiant, solid Salbatora to regain her warrior stature. Not as young as she used to be, and having so many responsibilities these days, she pushed that grief aside. Now was not a good time.

“Salbatora,” Mae Capone was behind her, holding a small box. Only middle aged, Mae was still as kind as ever, even after all she had been through. “Al left this for you. He boxed up these things a long time ago. I don’t really know what’s in here. And I never tried to look.”

She approached Sal and gestured for her to take the box. Sal started to reach for the box, but hesitated.

“Really, Sal, take it.”

 She took the box. “I don’t know why Al would give me anything else. I’ve taken way too much already.”

“He left it for you because he knew that you’d come,” Mae took a deep breath and turned away from
Salbatora, almost as if she was ashamed to admit what is. “He knew you’d come here and do what the rest of us could not. What his family, friends, or employees could not do.” She shook her head and turned around to face Salbatora.

 “I…I don’t know…I…” Salbatora could only stammer. She was at a loss for words and actions.    

“He knew you’d end it for him. Put a stop to it. Do what even his doctor wouldn’t. What I wouldn’t…couldn’t. He never wanted to become like that.”

Copyright 2023 Wanda S. Paryla

Storm Dwellers, chapter 7-excerpt

Storm Dwellers, chapter 7 – excerpt

“Hold on, y’all,” Lasso said. “I’ll get us some gloves.”

Lasso headed for his truck just as other South Padre Island police vehicles pulled up along with Texas State Police.

Covered with sand and grime a couple centimeters thick and caked with a sticky substance which had been splattered all over it, Terry’s car looked as if it had been driven through a slaughterhouse and out into a sandstorm.

“You can’t even tell by this car that it rained,” Hill said as she took a closer look at the hood and then the roof. “This gunk…how odd.”

“I…I think there’s some blood, for sure.” Lasso handed everyone a pair of gloves. “Here, just in case. Y’all be careful.”

Hill pulled on the gloves then touched the gooey substance on the car, rubbing it between her fingers. She held it to her nose and took a whiff.

“Yes, blood and…this stuff looks like…”

She stepped back from the vehicle.

“Like what?” Rob prodded.

The answer hit him, and he turned away from the car for a moment to gather himself then turned back.

“Awe, God.” Rob rubbed his forehead, fighting his emotions.

Copyright 2023 Wanda S. Paryla