Horror writing wears on an author. If one looks at what one is writing--really looks--it is disturbing. In something I am working on now, a short story called "The Innocents", a woman commits suicide by stepping in front of a truck. The scene is described in a manner meant to shock the reader and to pave the way for a series of supernatural events. However, when I reread the scene, I stop and think about it in real terms and become depressed by the tragedy it represents.
Sitting in a horror film can have the same effect. The fantasy element drops away and instead of suspense, one identifies with the suffering and feels a sense of weightiness. This is someone's child. This is someone's friend. I know, I know...we aren't supposed to question what we are witnessing. It's an abstract, a plot device.
While we all have a curiousity about the morbid, it's human nature after all, it still is there. Thank God for catharsis in a horror film---if it comes. But even then, what is represented by the violence and the horror remains, like a film, on one's psyche. And we aren't talking just about horror, think about the films you've seen over the past year or two, and the television shows. Even in the comedies.
Maybe I'm being too sensitive. But occasionally, just occasionally, I have to stop and reconnect with reality and the true emotions, remembering that the misery of one often has a ripple effect on the many, and that the horrific is not necessarily something to be celebrated.