Is it healthy to be obsessed about murder? I apparently can’t get enough of it in these times of self-isolation. If I’m not writing about a killer, I’m reading, watching, or playing the game. I do like untangling a good mystery, but I’m not very patient. There’s also my fickle nature, hopping from project to project in search of contentment. Yesterday, I couldn’t focus on watching Hinterland, distracted by looking up the Sydney Vosper painting, “Salem,” and its hidden devil’s face. Just pulling out my phone to Google the picture, sent me in an entirely different direction. ADHD!
I’d then jump over to my computer, where my novel still has many rough spots. It’s all too easy to then get lost in financial matters or personal DNA mysteries through Ancestry. Do I really need more relatives than the 23,000 I’ve already found? Most of them are either dead or total strangers. At least, I’ve recently been in touch with a distant cousin that is far more advanced on Banister family research than I am. He’s suggesting that I take a third y-DNA test through Living Tree. Y chromosomes are passed down virtually unchanged from father to son, as opposed to mtDNA from mother to child. Solving this mystery is more about life than death. Maybe, hunt a relative?
Reading about killers is strictly limited to bedtime, where I too often get lost after dozing off. I fall asleep to a murder mystery and wake up to write one. In between, I played the Hunt A Killer game that I got for Father’s Day. It was a nice change of pace from all these other mental outlets that I use to pass the days at home. In about an hour, I solved the first of six mysteries – determining the murder weapon. I’m waiting for the next box to arrive in the mail, so I can continue to Hunt A Killer!