Jack the Ripper
My Great Grandfather Royal Assassin
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Fiona Mitchell
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I fired my second editor in 2016 after 10 years, and I asked: “Why are you changing my book and putting in voices he supposedly is hearing in his head like a schizophrenic?” Louise responded, “Well he would have to have been crazy to carve up those women in that way.” I resonated “If he was a schizophrenic, then I’m a schizophrenic, you’ve been brainwashed by social media, he was a killer!”
Then I hired my third editor/proofreader, Harold Winberg, who translated technical instruction manuals into six languages. I knew he would pay close attention to details and not change, or distort the message. To understand one’s psyche, as a trained psychologist I know, you have to start at the true beginning. You can’t just jump into London 1888 during the Jack the Ripper murders and begin chapter 1 there because it’s thrilling, at first glance he would appear a deranged psychopath, at the least.
John or Jack was already a skilled horse slaughterer at age 17, he could slit the throat and sever the vocal cords of horses with a sharp knife–a silent killer.
Oh, a knife, The Ripper, why is a knife so much scarier than a gun? Because it’s personal and intimate.
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