Someday, you (writer, designer, maker, creator) may find yourself on the business end of the shovel, covered in soot, under the cold umbra of a deadline. In these moments you may feel the craft you love hardening into drudge, which must be avoided at all costs. The antidote? Invite play into your process.
Play is a mode of thinking, it’s not just futzing around. (See 10 Rules for Play.) Play turns problems into games and games are about action, not perfection. This lets you take risks and embrace wild ideas (Don’t leave out the impossible). And because play makes room for randomness, it can be a multiplier. (The universe is not binary and linear thinking leads to linear results.)
Play gives rise to non-obvious connections—and human connection too. It’s easier to collaborate when you turn down the pressure. Enabling play is itself a kind of work (which takes time), but a little lightness makes work feel lighter, which makes it easier to do, and that makes it more likely to happen. Such is the paradox of play: sometimes the scenic route is faster (The waste is what works).
I was gifted this lesson from a demanding (tyrannical, even) taskmaster of a boss: me, when I was self-employed. I squeezed my own oranges until it was impossible to create. Eventually, I put down the whip. I realized that nothing was on fire. I learned to make the process recite-able, and embrace the clunk, and just have a little fun.
Play must be part of it. Otherwise, what’s the point?
So make the making merry. Don’t just carry out the process, revel in it. If you’re a person that facilitates making, put the “fun” in function and insert ways to play. Sometimes the most productive thing you can do is find the part worth celebrating.