Of all the decisions you will make in planning your wedding, writing your own vows is the one that tends to cause the most quiet anxiety.

Couples who are completely calm about choosing a venue, a photographer, a menu — they will sit down to write their vows and suddenly feel like they have been asked to perform open-heart surgery. The blank page is intimidating. The stakes feel enormous. And there is a very real fear of standing in front of everyone you love and either saying the wrong thing or completely falling apart.

I want to help with all of that. Here is everything I tell couples when we talk about personal vows.

Let us get this out of the way. Personal vows are not compulsory. Many couples choose to use the legal vows only, and their ceremonies are no less meaningful, no less moving, and no less theirs.

The legal vows are short — a few sentences each — and they carry real weight precisely because of their simplicity. If the idea of writing and delivering a personal speech in front of your guests fills you with dread, it is completely okay to say: not for us.

But if you do want to write your own vows — and many couples do, because there is something they want to say that only they can say — then here is how to do it well.

Personal vows are promises. That is it. They are not a speech about your relationship, a list of your partner's qualities, or a stand-up set. They are the specific things you are committing to — the ways you are promising to show up for this person, in this life, from this day forward.

The best vows I have heard are specific. Not "I promise to always be there for you" — but "I promise to make you a cup of tea when you have had a hard day, even when I am tired too." Not "I promise to love you unconditionally" — but "I promise to choose you, again and again, even when it is not easy."

Specificity is what makes vows feel real. It is what makes the room go quiet.

Aim for one to two minutes when spoken aloud. That is roughly 150 to 250 words.

This is longer than it sounds when you are writing, and shorter than it sounds when you are nervous and standing in front of a hundred people. One to two minutes is enough to say something genuinely meaningful without losing your guests — or yourself.

Read them aloud while you write. Vows that look fine on paper can feel rushed or endless when spoken. Your ear will tell you things your eye misses.

Here it is. The one rule that will save you both.

The Crier Rule: if one of you is a crier, you go first.

This sounds simple, but it matters enormously. Here is why.

If the crier goes first, they deliver their vows while they are still composed — or at least as composed as they are going to be. Their partner then hears those words and responds. The crier, now listening, may well cry — but they have already said what they needed to say.

If the crier goes second, they spend the entire first set of vows already emotional, watching their partner speak, knowing they are next. By the time it is their turn, they are already undone before they have said a single word.

It is a small thing. It makes a real difference.

If you are both criers — and this is more common than you think — then the rule becomes: whoever is the bigger crier goes first. And you both accept that the ceremony might be a little soggy, and that this is actually wonderful.

If you are staring at a blank page, try this framework.

Opening line: A specific memory or moment that captures something true about your relationship.

"The moment I knew I wanted to marry you was when you..."

The middle: Two or three specific promises. Not grand gestures — real ones. The things you are actually committing to.

"I promise to..."

The closing line: Something that looks forward. Where you are going together.

"I choose you today, and I will choose you every day after this."

You do not need to follow this structure exactly. But if you are stuck, it gives you somewhere to start.

You have two options: memorise your vows, or read them.

I strongly recommend reading them. Here is why: on your wedding day, your nervous system is doing things it has never done before. Memory is unreliable under that kind of pressure. The most composed person in the world can go completely blank when they are standing in front of everyone they love, trying to say the most important thing they have ever said.

Having your vows written down is not a sign that you did not care enough to memorise them. It is a sign that you cared enough to make sure you actually said them.

Print them on a card. Keep it in a pocket or a bouquet. Let your maid of honour hold it. Whatever works — just have a physical copy.

One thing worth mentioning: I provide A5 vow folders for couples to use on the day. They look beautiful in photos — far nicer than a crumpled piece of paper pulled from a pocket — and they give you something to hold onto, which helps more than you might expect when your hands are shaking.

Many couples choose not to share their vows with each other before the ceremony. There is something genuinely beautiful about hearing your partner's words for the first time in the moment.

But if the idea of going in completely blind makes you anxious, it is also completely fine to share them in advance — or to agree on a general tone and length without sharing the specific words. There is no rule that says surprise is required.

What I do recommend is that you both agree on roughly the same length. Nothing derails a vow exchange quite like one partner delivering a heartfelt three-minute speech and the other responding with two sentences.

Your vows do not need to be perfect. They do not need to be poetic, or funny, or profound. They need to be true.

The people in that room are not there to judge your writing. They are there because they love you. When you stand up and speak honestly about what this person means to you and what you are promising them — that is enough. That is more than enough.

If you are working on your vows and would like a sounding board, I am always happy to read a draft and offer thoughts. It is one of my favourite parts of the process.