Doing NaNoWriMo. Doubt I'll "Win," but I've got a lot in my head right now, and figured it's better therapy to write a novel than burn away brain cells dropping bejeweled gems, right?
1,600 words down, 48,400 to go. I'm almost there!
Yes, I will be drawing from my experiences. No, it will not be 'about' me, except that it will. A 'what if?' memoir projecting into my near future if I were somebody else. Yep. All about me.
Here ya go:
It felt like a scalpel, or at least that’s what Emily thought as Jamie began working on her shoulder. Not that she’d ever been under the knife, as they say, but the first sensation felt surgical – like something being removed.
Emily knew she’d made the right decision. She’d been right to wait, but would have been wrong to wait any longer. He’d been gone less than a week when she decided she’d get the tattoo, but she’d agonized over when to do it. Today, it had been a year to the day, and it was time.
The ink gun’s buzzing subsided, and her skin quit burning. It was a cut that healed even as the knife moved through her skin – an eerie sensation to be sure. Emily glanced over her shoulder in the mirror. A single, curved black line marked where the arching neck would soon be.
“Are you all right?” Jamie asked.
She smiled. “I will be,” she said. And she would.