Spoilers And Delayed Gratification

My family knows, when it comes to spoilers, I’m a little extra. My aversion to spoilers borders on phobia or a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder. I am so in love with the thrill of experiencing a story with no expectations—not a clue what is about to happen—at the mere hint of a spoiler, I’m almost shouting, “No spoilers. No spoilers!”

I'm probably a year out from publishing Live and Impersonated but it's coming along very nicely. AI picture above shows a temp cover.

I don’t even like to watch trailers for movies most of the time because, if it’s from a director or franchise that I trust, I’m going to see it anyway. Why spoil the hard work that they’ve put into creating a movie that I’m bound to love?

“Well, what if you don’t love it? A trailer can give you a taste and tell you if it looks bad,” some might say.

Still not going to do it. Again, if it’s from a director or series that I’m into, I’m going to enjoy the parts I can.

Take the oft-bemoaned saga of Star Wars: Episodes 1, 2, and 3. I understand why people who wish the prequels were never made say the things they do, but I relish every opportunity to venture into a time long ago, and to visit that galaxy far, far away. I’ll continue to see every Star Wars movie they make.

Sure, I may be disappointed by the not-so-great parts, but I don’t want to spoil the good parts by seeing them prematurely, outside of the setting of the film, just to potentially avoid some momentary disappointment. I’d prefer to say, “That sucked,” later, having enjoyed parts of a movie, rather than see the best scenes of a movie in a trailer, then watch the movie, but now with a bias of some kind.

With books, it’s even worse. I am a very slow reader. Each book I finish is a long-haul accomplishment. So, to know what happens 30, 50, or 100 pages ahead of me makes the pages that I’m reading now much less rewarding.

My aversion to spoilers amounts to an appreciation for delayed gratification which is funny because, in other areas of my life, that just isn’t me. I want the payoff of dessert now and I’ll fit in the vegetables later if I can. That’s exaggerating—vegetables are great—but I hate to wait for the thrill of giving a gift to someone I love, or putting off a board gaming session until we get some work done around the homestead. My inner child is alive, well, and ready to throw a tantrum. Waiting is tough!

Image generated by ChatGPT. It loves to give me a weird nose for some reason...and an extra finger.

But when it comes to letting my curiosity run wild in a well-crafted story, untainted by the foreknowledge of things to come, I don’t want to spoil the gift the storyteller has put together for me. I want every bit of awe, inspiration, or laugh-out-loud surprise. I want to be shocked and terrified by the tension leading up to a jump scare. And along with suspending my disbelief about technology from the future, or magic such as I’ll never experience in this life, I’m willing to suspend my expectations in very well-worn tropes, and wait anxiously to see if the guy gets the girl in the end of the story.

Image generated by ChatGPT. The dragon is the AI's rendering of the yaomo as described in my novella, K.I.A.

The only time I watch a trailer or allow my friends and family to tell me about a book they’re reading, is if I think I may not want to invest my limited entertainment hours in a specific work. Perhaps it’s a new series, a film from a less-known director, or a book from an unknown author like me. Maybe the title, cover, or teaser image is underwhelming. I get that hesitation, of course. Then I’ll start the trailer or hear out a friend wanting to tell me about the book…but at the first sign of wonder or intrigue in my brain, I stop the trailer and shout like a maniac,

“No spoilers! No spoilers!”

My wife and children who know me so well will often say in exasperation, “You’re never going to read this book!”

Maybe they’re right, but they can’t know that for sure. I’m willing to protect the possibility that at some distant time, perhaps in a land far, far away, I’ll be able to let my inner child explore that story, wandering through an open and unspoiled territory of imagination. That’s an opportunity, I’m willing to wait for.