It's a habit of mine to list every book I read. In fact one of my Christmas presents this year was a lovely little notebook specifically for the purpose (the previous having fallen fallen apart due to cheap binding). It's a habit that can seem terribly anal of course but I read very much prone to mood and a list of my reading habits recalls to me not only the specific books but also my state of mind at the time.

A good friend of mine was never able to read two books by the same author in quick succession, the second would always pall when compared to the first due to an over-familiarity and boredom of that particular writer's style. I am quite the opposite. I read (and watch) in very fixed and obsessive waves. If I decide I'm in a Stephen King frame of mind I have no desire to experience any other "flavour" for a while, reading King novels and even watching King movies (assuming I can find any that are good… ahem…) until that taste is satiated and I move onto pastures new.

Given what I do for a living that mood also reflects in what I write and similar patterns emerge. Both the Torchwood novel The House that Jack Built and The World House show that I was a bit obsessed with Haunted House stories at the time of writing.

I'm far too undisciplined to keep a diary — "No shit!" shouts a passing blog reader — so this is as close as I come to charting the state of my head over the years.

2011 began with Elmore Leonard's Glitz and finished with The Clocks by Agatha Christie. Inbetween I went Under the Dome with Stephen King, sampled Peter Straub's A Dark Matter and enjoyed Seven Days of Cain with Ramsey Campbell.

I also listen to a lot of audiobooks and a real joy was The Complete Ghost Stories of M. R. James – Volume 1 I trust there's no need for me to sing the praises of James but these readings (his complete Ghost Stories in two volumes) by David Collings are absolutely stunning. Collings manages to balance the wonderful eeriness of the tales with James' often overlooked humour. I can honestly say that I enjoyed listening to these much more than I did reading them years ago.

There was also a great deal of Sherlock Holmes (an explanation of which shall be forthcoming soon enough as contracts have been signed…)

I managed twenty-one novels, eighty two short stories (I dip in and out of collections, rarely reading a whole one in one go) and one non-fiction book, the wonderful How I Escaped My Certain Fate by Stewart Lee which is a fascinating look at the art of stand-up comedy from its finest practitioner working today.

My overall average would be considerably higher were it not for the fact that I seem to read very little over the summer. For the last couple of years there's been a black hole during July and August which I think is more due to the fact that deadlines seem to converge there rather than any aversion to reading when hot. There was certainly little time for pleasant reading this year with a string of seven-day weeks and late nights to deal with both werewolves and Leonard Rossiter (only me…).