Why I thank 'Exorcist' author William Peter Blatty, who died at 89

I love scary movies and horror novels, and William Peter Blatty is probably to blame.

Or thank. Depends on how scared I am at the moment.

Blatty, who wrote both the novel “The Exorcist” and the screenplay for the film, died Thursday, Jan. 12. The former Jesuit school student was 89.

Everyone has their own experiences with art. These are mine: “The Exorcist” is the scariest movie I’ve ever seen. “The Exorcist” is the scariest book I’ve ever read.

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Too bad it wasn’t a Broadway musical. That would have scared me, too.

A quick note on why: I’m Catholic, so I was familiar with priests and Mass, but certainly not demonic possession — that isn’t something they teach you at religious-education classes. But I don’t think that was the main reason. I think what made the scares so pronounced was how effectively Blatty made this most-supernatural of stories seem real, like it could happen to you (or, more to the point, me). That’s what made it scarier than an alien invasion or a pedestrian ghost story.

And, man, was it scary.

The first time I saw the movie it wasn’t even the real version and it still nearly killed me. It was a chopped-up, broadcast-on-network-TV version when I was in high school. I happened upon it and started watching and couldn’t stop. It was this or study for a trigonometry exam, and whenever I faced that particular dilemma, trigonometry lost. I can still recall the room, the chair I sat in, the crummy little TV — and how scary it was.

Later, I was an English major in college. I took a class called Gothic Supernatural Literature which required us to read a bunch of horror novels. I was working at the Breeze, the student newspaper at James Madison University. I worked all weekend and ran right up against the deadline for finishing the book, which meant I would have to read the whole thing in one night. So I sat down on the couch of the apartment I shared with a couple of guys and started. I’d seen the movie a couple of times by then, so I had an idea of what I was in for.

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Or so I thought. Oh, man, the detail. The dread. The horror. The novel did an even better job of making it seem as if what was going on with Regan was a real possibility. It was overwhelming. So much so, in fact, that by the time it was 2 or 3 in the morning I really had to go to the bathroom (I was drinking Dr Pepper to stay awake). But there was no way I was going to get up and go anywhere by myself. So I kept reading and waited until one of my roommates got up, so I wouldn’t have to be alone. Don’t worry, they waited outside the door.

It’s a great movie and a great read. Scariest of all time. And that’s definitely a thank you. RIP, Mr. Blatty.

Reach Goodykoontz at bill.goodykoontz@arizonarepublic.com. Facebook: facebook.com/GoodyOnFilm. Twitter: @goodyk.