Unlocking My Writing | 5 Ways Working At An Escape Room Has Made Me A Better Writer

Chances are, if you've seen me on social media or have read posts on this blog, you know I work at an escape room.

I've been there for about a year and a half now, and it's been such a wonderful experience. It may not be what I scribbled down on a kindergarten "When I grow up..." project (for the record, my actual answer was zookeeper), but it's a job that feels like it was made for me. In all honesty, it is my dream job.

And frankly, I like to think I'm pretty good at it.

For anyone unfamiliar, escape rooms are themed interactive experiences. Players are brought into a game room with the objective of finding their way out by solving a series of puzzles and completing challenges within an allotted timeframe (and although it's a common misconception, we don't actually lock you in the room).

My job as game master entails setting up the players' experience and helping out from behind the scenes. I've been given a number of nicknames by teams in my tenure, but "Voice In The Clouds" sums up the job perfectly.

The best part? Being a game master has helped me unlock my writing brain and has made me a better storyteller—and not just because some of my coworkers have established a "book club" just so they can read less-than-stellar drafts of my books.

This post has been in the works for a good while, so it's finally time to crack the proverbial lock and decode some of the ways that my job as an escape room game master has made me a better writer.

Disclaimer: I will not be referencing specifics regarding the escape room I work at such as the location or the rooms themselves, as there are secrets I must keep as an employee and want to keep for privacy reasons—plus I wouldn't want to risk spoiling any of the surprises if you happen to stop in and play one of our rooms for yourself!

In other words, we're keeping it writing-focused for this post!

Making The Boring Setup Stuff Fun

Apart from bookings and check-ins at the time of a reservation, my first interaction with players is introducing the escape room's theme and reviewing the rules before the game officially commences.

As excited as teams are to get going, we can't let them have at it until those basics are covered. Telling players how to ask for hints during the game and that they won't need to use excessive force and the like is not only about making sure they have the best experience possible, but also making sure they're staying safe and respecting the room.

Teams likely know this is part of the deal, but it can get tedious for those who are especially eager to jump into the action.

That's why we game masters try to make it as fun as possible. I'll usually crack a joke about having to go through the formalities because they're mandatory if I "have any interest in keeping my job," and that once we get all of that out of the way, their game can begin in earnest.

In terms of writing, this has helped when it comes to handling exposition. All of the boring bits readers need to know about your world and characters to orient themselves in the story.

Writing historical romance, there's plenty of context I need to pass on to my readers so they understand the rules of the story's time period; as an example, why Caroline and Thomas couldn't get together the first time around in my second-chance romance WIP A Tided Love. Laying it all out like a textbook will more than likely cause them to lose interest, just as keeping the rules at the escape room lighthearted makes them more engaging for players.

I've noticed my narration loosening up as I've been working at the escape room—something I've struggled with for years—and have gradually embraced my unique voice as a writer, allowing my personality to come through more and more with every draft, even when dealing with the necessary exposition. In fact, I've developed something of a character as a narrator, the way I shift gears between the lobby and entering the escape room itself, which in turn has made the difference between stiff and stodgy reports and telling a story.

And because of that, my writing feels easier to engage with. Editing is less of a slog, too, because I've sometimes forgotten I'm reading my own work and just slip into the story.

Like relaying the rules and theme at an escape room, giving your readers the context for your story is a must and something your audience expects. But it helps tremendously when it's made more fun.

Getting To The Point

As necessary as the rules are, you don't want them to take forever. As a game master, it's good to be personable and make it entertaining, but you also need to be efficient. The longer it takes, the longer a team waits to play. Putting it bluntly, they're here for the story, not the setup.

This also goes for giving hints. When the clock is ticking down, the pressure is on. Teams want to make progress—and for some, asking for a clue is a last resort.

Those clues are best left short and sweet. They can be cryptic, sure, as many teams prefer a gentle nudge in the right direction over being given the answer outright, but they don't need to be a long-winded affair. Not only does that run the risk of cutting into a team's dwindling time, the actual information they need can get lost in the muddle, both of which can cause frustration.

Writing is a matter of time management, and not just because of deadlines and trying to squeeze your aspirations into pockets of your day. It's about knowing when to skim over something and when to linger on it.

Sometimes, readers and characters need a slower moment amid the chaos. A chance to regroup. What you don't want is to bring the action to a halt when the audience is keen to keep moving. Working at the escape room has made me a better judge of when I'd probably lose my reader's attention and if the wheat is getting buried under the chaff.

Story Structure In Action

Every escape room is a short story in its own right. Whether you're embarking on a haunted pirate ship, robbing a museum, or busting out of prison, there's a structure to keep the tension building and keep things interesting. In fact, it's not too far removed from the three-act structure commonly used for writing novels.

Firstly, there's the aforementioned rule spiel. Establishing the stakes and hinting at what players are up against. For instance, the players find themselves trapped in a cellar and only have one hour to make their escape before the sun sets and the vampire presiding over the manor will drink their blood. Being "locked" in the escape room and the departure of your game master serve as the inciting incident that really kicks things off.

It's common to open the room with an easier puzzle and get gradually harder as players progress, not unlike the trials and tribulations seen in the Rising Action stage of a story. Similarly, they might also be uncovering pieces of the room's lore. Team dynamics will be tested, eventually reaching the Climax in the form of the most difficult puzzle they'll face.

As things begin to wind down, we enter the Falling Action. The final stretch to the Resolution; in escape room terms, how everything plays out until the exit is revealed or time runs out.

Being a game master, I've gotten good at recognizing these plot points and understanding where each is best implemented to create the greatest impact.

For more on story structures in fiction, check out this post where we examine The Hero's Journey through Barbie (2023).

Foreshadowing And Suspense

If there is one single thing I love in a book, it's foreshadowing done right—especially when it is done so subtly that you may not put the pieces together right away, and then you have a moment of realization that makes your jaw drop, leaving you wondering how you failed to see it coming.

Behind the scenes of the escape room, I have the full picture. I know which puzzle opens up which compartment, where Part B of Puzzle 4 is hiding, etc. And that's allowed me to develop a better sense of how much information to dole out at a time.

It's common to be rewarded for solving one puzzle in an escape room by being given a piece that goes toward something that might not yet have access to.

It's interesting to not only know what leads to what, but to see how players put two and two together. And when they do figure out what a certain piece does or crack the code, there's often a moment of realization—you know the kind I'm talking about.

It's that feeling of everything suddenly making sense. It might leave you dumbfounded, wondering how you didn't see that big reveal coming from a mile away, or feeling like the world's next Sherlock Holmes because you caught on early enough. And I love watching that moment play out.

When it comes to writing plot twists and revelations in fiction, it's a good idea to lay breadcrumbs for your readers to find. When a twist comes out of left field, or feels like it was written for shock value alone, it won't sit well with readers. It's one thing to have them kicking themselves for missing a piece of the puzzle but another for them to be so vexed they throw your book across the room.

In the past, I've had a habit of over-foreshadowing in my fiction. Wanting to make sure my reader had a moment of satisfaction because they solved the mystery caused me to drop too many hints in their lap, which could be irritating if they'd already figured everything out and were resigned to watching the characters fumble about rather than solving the mystery alongside them. If you had all of the pieces you needed in an escape room from the jump, what fun would that be? Part of the excitement of an escape room is earning your victory little by little. Solving one puzzle and getting to move on to the next. Working for the win rather than having your hand held all the way makes it feel like a greater achievement when that finale door is at last opened.

As for writing, be stingy in your foreshadowing. When your astute reader answers one question, reward them with another. Throw in another complication to keep them guessing. A curious reader is an engaged reader.

Plant that seed in the back of your reader's mind. Water it occasionally, but don't drown it in exposition. Let it grow over time.

The Weird Thing Needs To Happen So You Know How To Handle The Weird Thing The Next Time It Happens

Even though the games have their routines, there are still surprises. There are interactions that cause you to go off-script or lose your train of thought. Items break and malfunction. Stuff happens.

And when it does, you just have to get up, dust yourself off, and carry on.

I'm a rule-oriented person (Lawful Evil if we're going by where my coworker placed me on his alignment chart), and working at the escape room has helped me get better at rolling with the punches when things don't go as planned.

Some things happen often enough that you know how to deal with them. But, sometimes, something exceptionally weird happens and all you can do is handle it on the fly and take a mental note so you know how to manage it next time.

Writing is a process of constant evolution. You're always getting better. There are things you don't know that you don't know until you learn them through feedback from your critique partners or beta readers. Your methods may change over time as you figure out what works for you—and what works for one project might not work for another.

The publishing process also has its curveballs. Even with all the research in the world, there are things you can't always anticipate, like an agent you're hoping to sign with retiring from the industry just as you're prepping your query materials or your book dying on sub.

What matters is how you approach those situations and what you learn from them. It's not only becoming a better writer, but a better person, and I'm so thankful to have a job that's allowed me to develop that quality.

No day at the escape room is like the one before, and that's one of the aspects I love most about it. It's got its routines, but it also keeps me on my toes—not to mention it's helped me refine my writing skills.

But that's not all. Surveilling teams from behind the scenes allows for people-watching, which might spark inspiration for character interactions. I've gotten better at improv, and that's been particularly helpful when this Plantser veers from her outline.

I think it’s safe to assume my game master role will also make doing readings someday as a published author a tad easier since I've grown more confident with public speaking.

And who knows? Maybe I'll end up weaving an escape room into a future story someday!

Have you ever played a game at an escape room? Did you escape? Share your experiences in the comments!