I now have a scar coveted by pirates and mystery writers alike. My Sisters in Crime chapter said I need an elaborate story about how I fought off an attacker determined to slit my throat. My brother thinks I should simply state that the vampire wore braces. Either explanation is way more entertaining than just saying I had thyroid surgery.
So, unlike a lot of mystery writers, I've now had the experience of having my throat cut. Of course I slept through the actual cutting, so that's no help (not that I would have had it any other way, given a choice). I can tell you I woke up with a head and throat filled with fluid and had the sensation of drowning. Possibly I could write a good water-boarding scene from it. I was surprised that I could talk, albeit softly, with a sexy bullfrog-like rasp. I also now know how many different movements of the body require neck muscles. If they aren't working, getting out of bed is next to impossible.
I had time to contemplate, in those first 48 hours, what a faux pas of evolution the neck seems to be. I mean, the heart's protected inside the ribcage and the brain's protected inside the skull, but connecting the two is this narrow, vulnerable isthmus. Then again, it's a great design for craning above the herd to search for approaching predators or the nearest Starbucks.
Anyway, I have a new experience to work into my writing. And maybe I should get my next author photo taken before the scar fades.