I'm a good girl.
No, really, I am.
I eat my five a day, I read bedtime stories to my children and I call my Mother every day.
I like to think my reward will be an afterlife like George Best, but in the meantime I make sure I floss my teeth.
So what then, is a nice girl doing writing crime fiction?
It's a question I'm asked all the time. In fact, when I was doing the publicity stint for my second book, I was asked a variant of it in every one of the fifteen radio interviews I did.
And I suppose it does seem odd that I should choose to spend so much time dreaming up violent criminals and their brutal activities.
Why don't I shy away from imagining what goes on in the mind of a sociopath?
Why do I enjoy exploring the twisted logic of the damaged and the dangerous?
It seems strange, sick even...but it's not.
Hang on and give me a chance.
I believe that humans are instinctive thrill seekers. How else can you explain why my local gliding club has a waiting list? They're planes, with, like, no engines. Duh.
How else can you explain motorbikes, rollercoasters and ice skating? No need for any of it.
Yet we love it...or at least some of us do.
Me, I'm a bit of a wuss. I like being on my two feet. I don't like flying, skiing or riding horses. I don't like anything that goes faster than 30mph. To be honest I've never even driven on a motorway. Okay stop laughing now.
But I still need my fix of adrenaline, so what better way to get my kicks than to conjure a world of thrills and spills. A world of danger.
In the safe confines of the left field of my brain I can feel the dead weight of a gun, or the smell of fear on my victim. Hell, I can kill off the cast if I'm in a shitty mood.
And I'm not alone. Crime fiction has been and remains one of the most loved genres. From Agatha C to Mo Hayder, the book buying public have voted with their wallets and library cards.
Even in these cash strapped times, with the economy in free fall and the publishing industry suffering, crime fiction continues to sell.
When times are bad it seems, we still like to imagine a world where it could all be worse.
So that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.
Now, can anyone think of a name for my new serial killer?