For the first time this week, I found the time to sit down and listen to the latest podcast. I have to say, I’m deeply troubled.

It was with disbelief that I listened to Damien, Anne and Dionne as they unanimously agreed that it’s perfectly acceptable to abandon a book if it’s boring or uninteresting. I’ll concede that they did describe this inexplicable activity as occurring only if, after a number of pages or chapters, they’re not drawn to the story, but I’m no less stunned. In fact, I’m breaking out into a cold sweat just thinking about it.

Distressed, I raised my concerns with a friend but to my dismay she agreed wholeheartedly with Damien, Anne and Dionne. It was then that I realised I’ve yet another trait to add to my ever-growing list of quirks and eccentricities.

Throughout my entire life I’ve never—and I literally mean never—been able to start reading a book without finishing it. Obviously, I’ve come across atrocious books that are so poorly worded you’re constantly re-reading to try to understand what the author is saying. There are dull books, ridiculously far-fetched books, and then there are those that make you wish you could grab the author by the shoulders and yell, “What were you thinking?!”

And yet, I will read each and every single word.

I certainly don’t seek out a miserable reading experience. I want to be enthralled. As Jane mentioned, I want to find writing so good I forget I’m reading. However, if I’m unfortunate enough to select a piece of less-than-acceptable literature, I feel some sort of obligation to see it through.

As a result of this compulsion, I’ve read entire works that I detest, simply because I began. And although the story may not thrill me, the pleasure I derive from the actual act of reading itself has always been enough to counteract everything I’ve come across to date.

Damien, your invitation to blog with Newbie Writers! is proving itself to be a cathartic experience. Each week I’m discovering more and more weird unique things about myself. I wonder if (Ok, secretly I hope) someone, somewhere, is just as strange as me. Anyone?

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Emma is a freelance editor and writer who got her start at Newbie Writers two years ago. In her previous career she was an accountant, but escaped the numbers game to envelop herself in the literary world.

I know Halloween has been and gone this year, but I popped over to visit my mum yesterday and somehow the conversation turned to horror movies and books. We laughed at one of my many peculiarities, this one in relation to the horror and supernatural genres.

We discussed how my mother prefers the supernatural theme and dislikes ‘real’, human, murderous, evil killers, yet I find the more gruesome, gory, torturous deaths encountered in the book or film, the better. Whatever your opinion of the plot in the Saw film franchise, I can’t get enough of the ingenious methods that ‘Jigsaw’ comes up with to extinguish those he deems undeserving of life.

Fictional, sadistic, serial killers who are crueller than the human mind can contemplate; can’t put the book down!

Average, ordinary people killed and then raised from the dead to become brainless, flesh-eating creatures (zombies or otherwise); love it!

Demons, monsters, vampires, aliens; bring ‘em on.

But, sneak in a ghostly presence—even the kind, innocent, Casper-like type—and my heart races. I’m constantly spinning around to catch a glimpse of what might be behind me. I have to tuck my feet and legs up onto the lounge, too afraid to let them hang down within easy reach of the evil presence lurking below. As a child I didn’t have monsters in my cupboards, I had ghosts in my room – and it didn’t matter whether the lights were on or off. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why I’m so troubled by just this one particular aspect of the supernatural realm.

I’ve been addicted to reading for as long as I can remember. My mum tells me that she didn’t have to teach me to read – I demanded tuition from her at an early age. Later, in my ‘tween’ and teenage years, scary stories were my favourite. Admittedly, children’s horror is pretty mild, but I always enjoyed scaring myself silly.

After our conversation yesterday, I scolded myself. I’m an adult now, ‘ghost stories’ shouldn’t have this effect on me. But then this morning I was making a sandwich for myself and, completely out of nowhere, my glass cake stand (coincidentally a gift from my mother) toppled over and spun around on the benchtop after sitting securely in place for days without incident. Fortunately, I managed to leap across the room and prevent it from wobbling onto the floor and smashing into pieces. Was this a ghost trying to tell me something, or just an eerie coincidence?

I find this happens a lot when I’m reading. It doesn’t seem to depend on what the subject matter is—often something innocuous that I usually wouldn’t pay any attention to—but all of sudden my world is saturated with it. The first time I consciously realised this was when I was around 9 or 10 years old and addicted to The Baby-sitters Club books. One of the characters took up synchronised swimming which I had not previously heard of, but began to consider it to be quite elegant. Then, I started noticing the sport everywhere I looked. I think that the Commonwealth Games may have been happening around that time which could partially explain it, but I’ve found this phenomenon happens to me on a fairly regular basis and can originate from a main character’s interest or hobby, the location of a murder, a quirky personality trait of one of the characters… just about anything really.

These days, my book of choice is a good old whodunnit. My shelves are crammed with murder mysteries, but I will read just about any piece of writing I can get my hands on. I treasure the way reading can highlight things all around us that we may otherwise remain oblivious to because of the constant bombardment of stimuli from all directions. So much can be hidden in plain sight. Reading encourages you to recognise and appreciate much more than you could ever hope to otherwise experience.

Now that I’ve had this spooky conversation with my mother, and spent today concentrating on the horror genre, I’m sure to notice (even if it’s only in my imagination) all sorts of creepy, ghostly happenings in the coming days. Thanks Mum!

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Emma is a freelance editor and writer who got her start at Newbie Writers two years ago. In her previous career she was an accountant, but escaped the numbers game to envelop herself in the literary world.

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