@LindsBrac

Game night is kind of a big deal in our house. Mostly because I have a husband and a child who love rules and structure and strategy.

Meanwhile the older daughter and I are over here planning a Netflix binge.

But there is one game we can all agree on—Bananagrams. Do you know it? It’s the ultimate for word lovers. Scrabble on steroids.

It works like this: everyone draws 21 letter tiles. You flip them over all at the same time and build your own crossword. First one to use all his letters gets to say, “PULL!” (Yes, with that much enthusiasm.) You keep going until all the letter tiles are used. First person to finish, wins.

You’d think I—the writer—would be a crusher at this game. But my six year old beat me the other day.

Here’s how that went down. He was home sick with strep and wanted to play this game he’d seen all of us playing at the kitchen table with our friends. So we set it up and I told him he needed make all the little three letter words he knew how to spell. Well, of course, I had to help him connect the tiles.

Which, I maintain, is the reason I lost.

But I learned something. And then I watched to see if my theory played out the next time we played with adults. It did.

The simpler the words, the better chance of winning.

Scrabble and Bananagrams aren’t actually won because the player has a wide vocabulary. Instead, the strategy of simple over complex—such as attaching an S to any word at any opportunity rather than making a new word—wins the game every time.

And unlike Scrabble, with Bananagrams you can disassemble at any time during the game and rearrange your letters.

Which got me to thinking about my writing. Sometimes I try really hard to make things more complex than necessary. Often, I’m afraid to take something apart and start over because it seems like too much work—and maybe what I’ve already done will be good enough.

But as writers we shouldn’t be satisfied with good enough. We shouldn’t complicate plots or characters just to show off how smart we are. We shouldn’t be afraid to start over when something isn’t working.

And sometimes my six year old understands that better than me.

Are you overcomplicating your writing life? I’d love to hear about it in the comments below.

Lindsey P. Brackett writes southern fiction and mentors writers. Her debut novel, Still Waters, was an INSPY finalist and named 2018 Selah Book of the Year. Get her free newsletter (and a novella AND a short story!) at lindseypbrackett.com or through BookFunnel.