This week, I had a week off school. Monday was family day, and on Monday I spent much time listening to podcasts and an audiobook while I scribbled random ideas into my new notebook. A notebook I started with a specific purpose: it is the catch-all, random-ideas-and-information, probably-will-only-get-half-full notebook for a new novel idea I started brainstorming. Despite it probably ending up unorganized, worn out and partially blank by the time I say everything I want to say in there, it was exciting. I get to start a new notebook! Yay! For me, there is something so… supercalifragilisticexpialidocious about making something with my hands, (or my fingers, depending on whether I’m using a laptop) It’s so good I can’t quite explain it with non-nonsensical words.
There is a word my cousin told me about: rastrophiliopustrocity. Yes, it’s a hard word to say. The general definition (see the picture) is a spontaneous combustion of creative spark, followed by action, to bring something into existence. That is the feeling I get when I start a new writing notebook. Rastrophiliopustrocity. The spontaneous. “OH! I have a story idea!” followed by frantic scribbling on a) a random scrap paper, b) my Notes app, or c) my arm, as a last resort. Spark, fanned into flame, and BAM! A fire of bringing some random idea into the world.
Now, there are a lot of ideas that have not gotten far. You would not believe how many story stubs I have saved on my ancient computer from when I was, oh, twelve years old. And they are cringe and/or pathetic. But I will never delete them! Because one day…that rastrophiliopustrocity might hit again, and I might end up with a fantabulous idea to write about. The chances of that actually happening are slim to none, but I can’t delete them, all the same.
And then there are the stories that got farther. Still rather cringeworthy, but kind of more, “Aw, I wrote that when I was fourteen. That was only three years ago.” And, of course, there are the stories that people like my brother adore. One that needs MAJOR reworking, but your brother has determined that your main character is an ostrich. Whether you like it or not. So you avoid reworking it as to avoid making your beloved character permanently into an ostrich.
All that, from a random spark. A spark that went somewhere, whether that was three feet, barely escaping the firepit, or twenty feet to land in the pile of dead leaves and start burning. But if I hadn’t followed the idea, it would never have gone anywhere. Because my ideas are just that—mine. No one else will have them.
So I encourage you to follow a spark. Not necessarily a writing spark, but a spark that excites you, a spontaneous combustion of creativity. Your ideas are ideas that only you are going to come up with, so it’s on you to make them something more. God gave them to you for a reason. Follow your little ideas. It doesn’t have to be life-changing. But it can be.
