How Can You Bring More “Play” Into Your Writing Process?
Writing is kind of magical, isn’t it? At least it can be—especially when I remember not to take myself so damn seriously.
A few weeks ago, a podcast listener asked me, “How do I actually play with my writing?” And it’s such a fair question, because we hear that advice all the time (I give it all the time)—have fun, be playful, don’t overthink it—but no one really explains what that looks like (including me).
When I think about play in general, it usually involves a sense of ease, and in my house it often comes with making a mess.
There’s experimentation, a willingness to be a little silly, and an enjoyment of the process regardless of how things turn out. It feels low-stakes, like you’re allowed to try things without being judged.
But when we sit down to write, how much of that do we actually bring to the table?
If I’m being honest, there are plenty of days I come to the page and it doesn’t feel like play at all. It feels like a routine. Like work. Like showing up because I said I would, not because I’m particularly inspired or excited about the work. This is especially true for me right now, when I’m deep in revision with a book I’m frankly tired of; one that feels like it’s gonna break my brain.
But still, even on the days that are a grind, something important happens.
I finish my writing session (no matter the outcome) with a sense of accomplishment. And I trust myself a little more because I followed through. I kept a promise to myself, and that builds my integrity, even if it’s not fun in the moment.
But there are other times when writing does feel like play, and I’ve noticed those moments tend to show up earlier in the process when things feel more open, more fresh. When staring at the clouds, daydreaming up a story and everything feels possible. When I’m jotting ideas down in a notebook, or out on a walk vibing to music while a scene takes shape in my imagination.
There’s this sense of lightness and curiosity, without the worry of “Am I getting this right?”
Drafting can feel like that too; at least at its best. There’s still some pressure, of course, but there’s also room to experiment, to follow an idea just to see where it goes.
And underneath it all I hold this quiet belief that I can fix what isn’t working later.
I don’t think play is something you can force so much as it’s something that naturally shows up when the pressure comes down.
For most of us, the real barrier to writing our stories isn't a lack of creativity or talent.
It’s the weight of our expectations.
The pressure to get it right, to be efficient, to prove something with every word we put on the page. That kind of pressure turns writing into a performance. And it’s really hard to feel playful, joyful, or relaxed when you’re performing. At least for me.
So maybe the question isn’t “Can I bring more “play” into my writing?”
Maybe it’s “How do I lower the stakes enough that I’m willing to show up, explore, and stick with it?”
That might mean letting yourself write a messy scene you already know won’t make the final draft, you just use it to inform what you know about your characters. Or maybe you follow a thread of curiosity without worrying about where it leads or how it factors into the cause and effect of the entire story. (GYN Emily, xo). It might mean focusing on the parts of the story you love for a while and setting aside the ones that feel heavy or stuck.
Lowering expectations isn’t about letting yourself off the hook. You’re still showing up. But you’re also giving yourself a little more room to maneuver.
And maybe that’s what play actually looks like in writing—not constant joy or ease, but enough freedom to explore without fear, and enough trust to believe you’ll figure out the rest later.
So how do you incorporate more play into your writing?
Not really sure, but I think it's beneficial to stop and evaluate your process.
When do you feel the most freedom, and when do you find yourself starting to feel contraction or pressure?
And when that happens, can you take a deep breath, remember what you like about the story, remind yourself to lower your expectations, and give yourself a little more breathing room?
Reassure yourself that books are made in layers, and you can fix whatever needs fixing later.
I hope this post gives you some food for thought about your writing process and what you want it to feel like and how you can incorporate a little more flexibility, fluidity, permission, and hopefully more joy and ease as you learn to lower your expectations.
