I made the mistake of doing a Google image search for the word CRAVINGS. Apparently there’s a big demand in the stock photo market for super contrived and/or inappropriately sensual food photos.
Now that I see this question written down, I’m tempted to answer it with a punch-line. What do being pregnant and being a writer have in common? Either way, you’re fucked. Ba, dum-bum.
But seriously, folks. It hit me today that the cravings I have for certain books and movies when I’m writing (deep into my writing) and the cravings I had for certain foods when I was pregnant—and let me clarify I AM NOT CURRENTLY pregnant—are quite similar. Same with the revulsions. There are specific books and films that I suddenly need to read or see that relate to my writing and will hopefully inform my writing, yet are not too similar to what I’m writing, just as there are other books and movies that could taint my work, and thus, must be avoided like the plague.
Both the cravings and revulsions are exasperatingly transitory. When I need them, I need them RIGHT NOW. But when I don’t, I shun these books and movies like Superman does kryptonite. It’s like the time I was pregnant and I spent all day long fanaticizing about a very specific chicken parm sandwich from a very specific Italian restaurant, then, just as the waitress placed it before me, the thought of taking a bite made me want to hurl.
It is not coincidence that the word craving and the word crazy share the first three letters.
After all, how can you NOT go crazy knowing there’s a mystery growing inside of you that you don’t entirely control? And yet, I enjoy being at the beck and call of my own weird cravings and revulsions, trusting my gut to steer me toward what I need (and away from what I don’t) as I continue to wrestle with the One Big Question That’s Not Yet Ready to Reveal Its Face.
Which is why I believe that the ephemeral state of mind that gives birth to ideas feels so much like it does being preggers.