Remember fun?

Breaking news: you're allowed to have it.

Years ago, when I was only ankle-deep in the novel I’m fully immersed in now, I wrote a scene in an abandoned diner with a broken jukebox.

In the mornings, before I went to my admin job at UNC, I worked on this scene, describing the diner’s faded, cracking red vinyl stools and chrome counter. I explored the character who wandered into the diner, trying to figure out what problem might exist between her and the guy already there. And I tried to figure out how you might fix a broken jukebox, which included some fun research on wiring and electricity.

Eventually the clock got me and it was time for my job. I got on my bike, thinking as I pedaled about what very old songs might be on that jukebox and how those songs would sound to the characters.

Then I walked to my office and faced the needs of the workday. I filled out HR forms and chased down account numbers, and when it all felt like too much, I thought about jukeboxes, and I smiled to myself.

Photo by Heather Gill on Unsplash

That scene ended up on the cutting room floor a long time ago. If I told you how many scenes, how many tens of thousands of words I’ve written and cut from this book, you would be appalled. Absolutely horrified. That 21^st century buzzword stinging your lips: inefficient.

I tossed the diner scene. And A meet cute. I tossed an imagined conversation with a dead grandparent about the meet cute. I tossed backstory on how the app was conceived. And yeah, I tossed a whole page on somebody’s cat.

The list of things I’ve written and tossed is staggering.

Please don’t punch me in the face when I say this: I regret none of it.

I had a really good time writing each and every one of those scenes. And I even enjoyed cutting them (the revision machete is such a satisfying tool).

And yeah, many of us trust the page and the process, knowing that when we start to write, we don’t know where we’ll end up, that very often, we discover something useful and meaningful we might not have if we’d Followed the Plan—although the diner scene is long gone, both characters in the scene have stuck around and the jukebox too.

But I’m not here to say you should write that scene because you might Figure Something Out.

I’m here to say write that scene you wanna write it. Because you’re allowed to have a good time.

You’re allowed to make something because it delights you.

You’re allowed to write a silly or fantastical or apocalyptic scene simply because it pleases you.

You’re allowed to have fun.

There’s no law that says writing has to be Serious or Purposeful or Efficient or clearly building toward some measurable and useful goal.

It can just. Be. FUN.

So here I am, double dog daring ya to grab a notebook and write something just for the sheer goddamned delight of it. A character who entertains you. A setup that entrances you. Line upon line of dialogue that make you giggle. A three page description of a house or a bird or a serving utensil.

Write it. Write it today. Write it now.

Have all the fun, and send me a postcard, ok? Because I think postcards are really fun.

And hey—if you want your writing to be more Fun and less Serious, consider joining the Joy Squad. On March 2, I am launching a group for writers who want to write more with less struggle, have FUN, and make FRIENDS.

The Joy Squad will include weekly worksheets, voice notes from yours truly, and monthly calls where we celebrate what’s working, talk through what’s not, and have a great time connecting with our creative crew.

If this sounds intriguing, fill out this form and I’ll send you 3 questions right away to supercharge your writing.

Hey, if you ask me, it could be a lot of fun. Just sayin’.