I came to Netflix’s Mindhunter series fully primed by a long-ago fascination with killers and evil in the world. This interest was, it has to be said, fully naïve: what on earth do I know about violence? Why does a sheltered geek get drawn into such dark topics?
I came, I saw, and I was conquered. That is, the series held me spellbound. The experience has resurrected a deep need to write fiction exploring, in some fashion, a horrid facet of humanity that I personally know nothing about.
Of course, right now there’s no way I can pursue these rekindled embers. The lumbering nuclear book holds sway. But I earmark the urge: soon enough, I’ll dive back into evil. Again, I ask myself why? Again, I have no idea.