As a sweeping generalization, I’m scared of horror (as discussed). “Isn’t that the point of—” The kind of scared where I can’t consume it, I mean, not the enjoyably or cathartically scared that the creators of said horror intend to elicit. The other kind of scared.
All the same, I’m drawn to certain types of horror in both writing and reading. With my novels Beneath the Rising and its sequel A Broken Darkness (as well as a couple dozen short stories), I told everyone I was simply writing fantasy with monsters and gods; ‘dark fantasy,’ probably. “Nope,” people told me again and again. “These are horror.” As I began to read more about it, I realized that swathes of my writing might not only be horror, but fall into a specific sub-genre of horror: cosmic horror.