One of the many joys of reading suspense is that I get to experience danger from the comfort of my favorite chair while sipping sweet tea. I can follow characters into abandoned buildings, investigate suspicious noises, uncover long-buried secrets, and narrowly escape people who seem far too comfortable hiding in the woods—all while wrapped in a blanket.
It’s safe. Mostly.
The only problem is that suspense novels occasionally introduce me to things I never considered dangerous before. A danger that suddenly becomes extremely relevant to my everyday life. I finish the book and go about my normal routine… only to realize that I am now suspicious of things others view as harmless.
Are these fears rational?
Probably not.
But those fears are stuck in my head somewhere anyway.
Here are a few irrational fears I’ve developed while reading suspense.
1. Swans
Before reading Haven of Swans by Colleen Coble, I thought swans were beautiful. Graceful. Peaceful. The kind of bird you might see gliding across a lake while inspirational music plays in the background.
Now? I have questions.
I’m not saying I’m afraid of every swan.But if I see one staring at me from across a pond, I may start mapping out an escape route. Because if Colleen Coble taught me anything, it's that swans look a lot more pleasant than they actually are. Their territorial nature and knife-like beaks don't make them the most hospitable creatures on earth.
Alfred Hitchcock gave me a healthy fear of all birds, but Colleen Coble gave me a specific fear of swans.
2. Driving Over Bridges
After reading Raging Waters by Dana Mentink, I developed a brand-new appreciation for solid ground. Bridges were never my favorite thing, but I used to view them as a normal part of driving. You approach one. You drive across it. You continue with your day.
Simple.
Suspense novels have added several unnecessary questions to this process: What is underneath the bridge? What if the weather changes suddenly? What if the road is damaged?What if my car breaks down at the worst possible moment? What if someone is following me and tries to bump my car off the bridge? What if the bridge is not nearly as trustworthy as it appears?
Now, whenever I drive across a bridge, I find myself paying far more attention than necessary.
I drive with my window rolled down in case the car ends up submerged and I need to quickly swim to safety. I’m checking the water. Checking my mirrors. Mentally calculating whether turning around would be socially acceptable.
It’s not that I think every bridge is dangerous. I just think bridges have a lot of opportunities to become dangerous, and suspense authors are very creative people.
3. Remote Cabins in the Woods
I used to think that a vacation to a cabin in the woods or mountains sounded relaxing. Beautiful scenery. No traffic. No neighbors.
Wait.
No neighbors?
That used to sound peaceful. Now it sounds like the opening chapter of a suspense novel. Specifically, Shattered Sanctuary by Nancy Mehl.
Now, I see a remote cabin vacation completely differently. Because if I scream, who is going to hear me? The nearest town is probably thirty miles away. I probably wouldn't have any cell service out in the sticks. The power goes out during a storm. And the only person who knows I'm there is the suspiciously friendly owner who said, “People don’t usually stay in that cabin this time of year.”
Absolutely not. I’ll take a hotel. With a front desk, security cameras, and at least three coffee shops in driving distance.
4. Nice People
Suspense novels in general have made me deeply suspicious of people who seem too nice. You know the type. They bring cookies. They offer helpful advice. They have an excellent reputation in the community. They smile until their cheeks must ache.
And somewhere around chapter twenty-three, you discover they have been hiding something behind that smile and that squeaky-clean reputation for the last decade. Spoiler alert whatever they're hiding is never good. They aren't secret philanthropists or animal rescuers. Typically, they're hiding dead bodies in the basement or garage.
Now, when someone is unusually helpful, a tiny part of my brain whispers: What are they covering up?
To be clear, I still appreciate kindness. I just think everyone should provide a brief background check along with their homemade banana bread. It would save time.
The Price We Pay for Loving Suspense
The truth is, I wouldn’t trade suspense novels for anything. I love the twists, the danger, the secrets, and the moments that make me stay awake far too late because I have to know what happens next. If the occasional book leaves me suspicious of swans or nervous while driving over a bridge, that’s a small price to pay.
Besides, irrational fears are part of the fun. They remind us that a good suspense novel doesn’t end when we close the book. Sometimes it follows us into everyday life. Sometimes it changes the way we look at a quiet lake. It makes us check the lock on the door twice.
And sometimes it makes us wonder whether that swan across the pond is watching us…
Or waiting to strike.
What irrational fear has a suspense novel given you?
Tell me in the comments. I need to know whether I’m the only one avoiding swans and side-eyeing bridges. Your comment will enter you in a drawing for an ebook copy of The Purple Nightgown.
