The Writing

05 September, 2016

needles

So the touch-up work on the valkyrja ran about two hours, because essentially Adam re-lined and shaded them both. It's like getting a new tattoo again. This means the ink is black and crisp and the skin under it is red and bruised. Nous takes tattoos beautifully. I look...abraded. (Which, you know, is kinda what happened. Abrading with poking.)

So I am rediscovering all the ways in which inner forearms are inconvenient--like, they brushed ribs when sitting to type. They are remarkably battered by the act of pulling garments over one's head (double points for things like athletic tops, because elastic).

They are not concerned by gaming (with console or with dice) so clearly that is what I should be doing.

Instead I wrote, goddammit. So when you're reading Current Project after it becomes a novel someday, and you get to the part where the main character's got surface damage on one forearm that annoys her but does not debilitate--that's for real. (For some version of real.) It was inspired.

In a week, we (read: Adam) work(s) on fresh ink on the back of that arm, winding up past the elbow and down around the wrist. I better make wordcount now, while I still can.