How to Write Wedding Vows: A Simple Guide without the panic

If you’re wondering how to write wedding vows—and finding yourself staring at a blank page, slightly unsure where to begin—you’re very much not alone. It’s one of those parts of wedding planning that sounds simple in theory, and then somehow expands into something much bigger. How do you take a whole relationship—years of shared life, love and the odd disagreement about the dishwasher—and turn it into a few minutes of words that feel honest, meaningfuland actually like you? There comes a moment in wedding planning—usually quite late on, when you thought you were more or less on top of things—when someone casually asks:

“So… have you written your vows yet?”

Tumbleweed … of course you haven’t.

Because how, exactly, are you meant to distil an entire relationship—years of history, in-jokes, shared routines, mild disagreements about dishwasher loading—into a couple of minutes, said out loud, in front of everyone you know.

It’s a lot. And yet… it’s also one of the best bits.

So, what are vows, really?

I sometimes think vows get mistaken for a performance.

A sort of emotional keynote speech. Carefully balanced. A few laughs. A tasteful tear. A closing line that feels like it ought to be accompanied by gentle piano music.

But that’s not really what they are.

Vows are the moment where everything becomes explicit.

All those things you already do—showing up, making tea, saying sorry (eventually), choosing each other in a hundred small, ordinary ways—get spoken out loud.

Not for the first time, necessarily. But for the first time like this.

Witnessed. Held.

The quiet pressure to be “brilliant”

Now, I’ve stood beside a fair few couples at this point (some calm, some visibly negotiating with their own nervous systems), and there’s often this unspoken expectation that vows should be…

Effortless.

Moving.

Funny, but not too funny.

Profound, but not try-hard.

Which is, frankly, an impossible brief.

So here’s the gentle truth: the vows that stay with people aren’t the ones that sound like they’ve been workshopped within an inch of their life.

They’re the ones that feel like they could only have been written by you.

Slightly wobbly? Sometimes.

Unexpectedly funny? Often.

A note on being funny (or not)

Couples will sometimes say to me, “We’re not very funny people.”

Which is almost always untrue.

You’re just not performers. And that’s different.

The humour in vows doesn’t come from delivering punchlines—it comes from recognition.

That moment where your partner glances up because you’ve just mentioned the thing (you know the one), and the people who know you best start laughing before you’ve even finished the sentence.

That’s the good stuff.

And if a joke wobbles? It lands somewhere softer. Which, in this context, is absolutely fine.

The magic of the specific

There’s nothing wrong with a classic line like:

“I promise to always support you.”

It’s kind. It’s generous. It’s true.

But if you can, take it one small step further into your actual life.

“I promise to support you—even when you’re absolutely certain we need to leave the house 45 minutes early for something that is, at most, ten minutes away.”

Vows aren’t meant to sound like anyone else’s. They’re meant to sound like the two of you, on your most honest day.

The promises that really matter

This is often where things shift—almost imperceptibly—from light to something a little deeper.

The promises that tend to land are the ones that acknowledge real life:

“I promise to listen, even when I think I know I’m right.”

“I promise to keep choosing us, especially on the days it feels like effort.”

If you’re staring at a blank page…

Start small.

You don’t need to write a masterpiece. You just need to begin.

What do you love about them, as they are right now?

When did you realise this was something more?

What do you admire (even if you don’t say it enough)?

And what, genuinely, do you promise for the life you’re building together?

That’s your structure. The rest is just… voice.

And finally (the bit I always come back to)

On the day itself, something rather lovely happens.

The nerves are there (of course they are). The hands might shake a little.

But when you look at each other—and you will, properly look—everything tends to settle.

And in that moment, it’s not about whether the words are perfect.

It’s about the fact that they’re yours.

Your people are there. Your story is being spoken.

And this small, brave act of standing up and saying “this is what I promise” becomes something much bigger than the page you wrote it on.

So write them honestly.

Bring your whole self to it—humour, heart, the slightly chaotic bits included.

Because those are the vows that don’t just sound good on the day.

They last.

Vows

By Nic the Celebrant

Nic Preston-Kind

April 2026