I love writing or reading when it’s raining. There’s something about the sound of it pouring down outside and being curled up with a good book, of any variety. Even books that don’t want to get written, or books that I’m not enjoying as much as I’d hoped, are better when I’m reading them during a rainstorm. It’s even better if there’s a blanket, and the lights are dim, and it’s just me and the book. Except for maybe a cat. A cat kind of completes the experience. *nods*
Mysteries are particularly good like that, of course, because all mysteries take place on a dark and stormy night. Except those which happen on a bright, sunny day, of course. Thrillers, ghost, and horror stories are all equally fun when it’s raining. Noir is a personal favorite for those times. With fantasy, well, it doesn’t really add much to the atmosphere most of the time, but there’s still something soothing about the sound of rain. And it’s not just the rain itself, but the sound of the wet outside. The wet tree limbs moving in the wind, the sound of cars going by on a wet road.
It’s all somehow evocative. I even love being out in the rain, so it isn’t just that it’s nice to be curled up, warm and dry, with something to help pass the time. It’s cozy, I guess, and it seems to almost shut off the outside world. Maybe it’s because it helps you get lost in the book, because all the distractions seem to quiet down for a while.