Letting Go of the Perfect Session: Embracing Imperfection in Play

Series: Behind the Screen

I used to believe that a “good session” meant everything landed—each clue discovered, each scene hit just right, and every player walking away grinning. I measured success by how seamlesly narrative flowed, the number of laughs, or how often someone said, “That was epic.” Underneath that was a quieter, more corrosive voice: You have to prove you're good at this. Don’t mess it up.

That’s the voice of perfectionism. It often travels with imposter syndrome, whispering that you’re not truly creative, not a “real GM,” or that you’ll be found out the moment a plot twist fails or a scene drags. I know that voice well—not just at the table, but across much of my life. Recovery, for me, has meant learning to recognize it, name it, and choose something kinder in its place.

The oft-cited Mercer Effect is real across all levels.

Running games from a place of fear—or from the need to perform instead of connect—cuts us off from the very heart of why we play. The best sessions I’ve ever run were messy, unexpected, full of side tangents, and deeply collaborative. Not because I was perfect, but because I wasn’t trying to be. I let go.

Letting go of the “perfect session” is an act of trust. Trust in your players, trust in the story’s ability to emerge organically, and trust in yourself to respond with curiosity instead of self-judgment. It’s also an invitation: to embrace a growth mindset, where each session is a chance to learn, not a test you have to pass.

The magic of TTRPGs isn’t in flawless execution—it’s in showing up, creating together, and letting something real happen between people. And the more we allow ourselves to be human at the head of the table, the more space we make for others to do the same.

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3 Practical Ways to Loosen the Grip of Perfectionism at the Table

1. Reframe "Mistakes" as Creative Material
Psychologist Carol Dweck, known for her work on growth mindset, reminds us that intelligence, skill, and creativity are not fixed traits—they're built through effort, reflection, and vulnerability. That principle applies just as much to GMs as it does to students or athletes.

Try adopting a mantra like: Every derailment is an opportunity. If your players miss your carefully planted clue, don’t rush to reroute them back. Ask, “What are they curious about?” and build from there. If a combat falls flat, take a beat and pivot. Some of my favorite moments have come from discarded plans.

2. Practice Vulnerability as Leadership
Brené Brown, in Daring Greatly, argues that vulnerability is not weakness—it’s courage. As a GM, being vulnerable doesn’t mean baring your soul mid-session. It means saying things like, “I wasn’t sure how that scene would land—what did you think?” or “I got a little lost there, thanks for bearing with me.”

This models psychological safety. When GMs stop pretending to be invulnerable, players feel more comfortable taking creative risks, too.

3. Debrief Gently—with Curiosity, Not Judgment
After a session, it’s easy to spiral: Did they have fun? Did I ruin the pacing? Was that NPC voice stupid? Instead of ruminating, use a gentle post-game debrief with yourself or your players. Ask:

• What moments felt alive at the table?

• Where did the energy dip, and why might that be?

• What might I try differently next time?

If you journal, jot a few of these down. Let it be a record of growth, not a trial transcript.

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In the end, letting go of perfectionism isn’t just about feeling better as a GM.
It’s about reclaiming the heart of tabletop play: messy, surprising, collaborative storytelling rooted in presence, not performance. It’s about trading control for connection—and allowing space for wonder and joy.

I’ll offer the same invitation I extend to myself: Go run a gloriously imperfect session. And let it be enough.