Confession: I sometimes peek at the end of a book.

I used to be one of the (probably majority) of bibliophiles who believed that peeking at the end of the book was sacrilege. Go through it like the author intended! Feel all of those feels! Don’t spoil it for yourself! All things I used to vehemently believe. I’ve slightly changed my stance.

HEAR ME OUT.

Several weeks ago I wrote about how our reading habits—and media consumption habits in general—will change in response to stress. I believe this also extends into how we consume the art we enjoy. When I was younger, I wouldn’t dream of flipping even a page ahead. I relished all the tension and anticipation. The same with movies. (Although I have not and have no desire to ever watch horror.) I would curl in a ball and clutch a blanket or pillow if I needed to, but I was there, experiencing it with the characters the whole way through.

I can’t pinpoint exactly when this changed, but I know that it did, and I’m positive it’s in response to stress.

If I’m watching a movie and it gets to be too much, I will avert my eyes and pull myself out of it. If I’m at home, I may even pull a, “Gotta pee, don’t pause it, I can hear from the bathroom.” And, yes, I’ve peeked at the end of a couple of books.

I have not read the end, but I’ve found when I’m stressed, it comes down to either putting the book down when things get too hot and potentially never picking it up again, or flipping back a few pages and hunting for a name or two just to make sure everyone survives, then going back to where I was. I have a theory that being an empath might exacerbate this. But when the real world is already quite enough, thank you, I find it much more difficult to handle the potential death of characters that I love.

Back when I didn’t allow myself to peek, I have put books down and never picked them up again because I didn’t want to watch a character continue to make bad choices, or fail and fail and fail. Even though as a reader of countless books I am well aware that there’s a 90% chance there will be redemption at the end.

The thing is, I’ve also read a couple of books where there is no redemption at then end. There’s nothing but pain upon pain upon pain and then in the end I was met with only sadness and death. “What is this, Hamlet?” I thought. Except that it wasn’t Shakespeare and it wasn’t one play. I had been through an entire fantasy series of books that had been recommended to me. Fell in love with multiple generations of characters, and then at the end, after pain upon pain, there was only sadness and death. I finished an entire series and felt shitty afterward. Not what I went in for. I can feel shitty in my regular life with the people of this reality whenever I want!

After beating myself up a couple of times for peeking ahead, and mentally berating myself for being a wus when taking an emotional break during movies, I was knee deep in another book and found myself wanting to check to make sure everyone was going to be okay before I went further. I stopped and put the book down.

And thought long and hard about why I wanted to do this.

It had been a rough couple of months for me and I’ve always had a tough time giving myself slack. I considered what I might tell a friend in my position. Would I beat them up? Would I shame them for peeking ahead? No. Especially not the friends with anxiety. Why should they suffer and make themselves more anxious to experience a bit of fiction the way someone else thinks they should experience it?

Why should I shame myself for feeling the same way?

So if someone peeks ahead, leave them alone. Let them enjoy the work they way they want to enjoy it. Honestly, as an author, I just want people to read my book. If skipping around makes them enjoy the experience more, then they have my absolutely blessing to do so.