The Question Nobody Asks… but should

… or what should you ask your celebrant when you first meet!

I am a Humanist celebrant. When couples first reach out to me, they usually lead with logistics. Practical questions. Where do you travel? What’s your fee? Are you available on our date? All perfectly reasonable questions, of course. The kind you’d ask when booking any old wedding supplier.

But here’s what I’ve learned after all these years: the most important question is the one hardly anyone asks upfront.

Will we actually like each other?

I know. It sounds almost too simple. But that relationship between you and your humanist celebrant – the person who will tell your story, hold space for your promises, and set the tone for one of the most significant moments of your life – that matters more than any other single detail of your ceremony.

 The Real Work Happens in the In-Between

A ceremony script doesn’t write itself. Neither does it exist in a vacuum. It emerges from conversations. Long ones, sometimes rambling ones, the kind where you suddenly find yourself telling stories you haven’t thought about in years.

These moments of recognition – when I catch the glance between you as one of you remembers something the other had forgotten, when you both laugh at the same inside joke – this is where your ceremony lives. Not in templates or standard readings, but in the texture of your life together

And you cannot fake this kind of attention. You cannot manufacture genuine curiosity about people’s stories. Either I’m the kind of person who lights up hearing about how you met at a festival in the pouring rain, or I’m not. Either you feel comfortable enough to tell me about the wobbly bits as well as the Instagram-worthy moments, or you don’t.

You’re looking – but I’m looking to! 

When we first meet – usually over coffee or a video call – I’m not really conducting an interview. I’m feeling for fit.

Do we laugh at the same things? Can you tell when I’m being serious versus when I’m winding you up a bit? Do you trust me enough to say “actually, that reading you suggested feels a bit naff for us”?

Because here’s the truth: I don’t want to be just tolerable to you. I don’t want you to think “well, she’ll do.” I want you to walk away from our first conversation feeling like you could introduce me to your most candid friend and we’d all get on. I want you to feel excited, not anxious, about the work ahead.

The couples that I seek are comfortable with sincerity without sentimentality. Who want something personal but not precious. Who understand that humour and depth aren’t opposites – in fact, the best ceremonies hold both.

The Collaborative Truth

There’s a certain kind of couple I work best with, and I’m at peace with that. You’re probably someone who cringes at cookie-cutter anything. Someone who, when asked about your dream wedding, talks more about feelings and moments than Pinterest boards or colour schemes. Someone who trusts the process but who is able to say when something isn’t quite right.

You might be a bit nervy about public speaking, about being the centre of attention, about whether your vows will make sense out loud. That’s completely normal. What matters is that you’re willing to be honest about it, so we can shape something that holds you both comfortably.

Whoever you are and whatever you want, the underlying approach stays consistent: this is a conversation between us, building something that could only ever be yours.

What Makes This Work

The ceremonies that truly sing – don’t happen because I’m some kind of magic script-writer. They happen because somewhere in our process, you stopped treating me like a vendor you’d hired and started treating me like someone you’d invited into your story.

That shift, that moment when you realise you can test ideas with me, when you trust me to push back if something doesn’t quite work, when you know I’m as invested in getting this right as you are – that’s when the real work begins.

It means I’ll ask you uncomfortable questions sometimes. Why does this tradition matter to you? What are you actually promising each other? What do you want your guests to understand about your relationship? 

But it also means I’ll notice things you might not articulate clearly. I’ll spot the thread that connects three different stories you’ve told me. I’ll sense when you’re saying yes to something because you think you should, rather than because it feels right. I’ll translate your half-formed ideas into language that captures what you actually meant.

The Bit About Experience

I should probably mention that I’ve navigated divorced parents who won’t speak to each other, surprise singers mid-ceremony, and one memorable occasion when the groom’s trousers split during the vows (we simply paused, someone fetched a jacket, and we carried on with great dignity and only moderate giggling).

But experience isn’t about a portfolio of scenarios I’ve handled. It’s about having done this enough times to know what questions to ask. To spot the brilliant detail you mentioned in passing that actually belongs front and centre. To understand the difference between nerves that need reassurance and concerns that need addressing. To hold space for the full emotional range of what a wedding ceremony actually is: joy and solemnity and relief and giddiness and those odd quiet moments where everything suddenly feels very real.

I bring all that to our work together. But I can only do it properly if we actually connect.

So Let’s Be Honest

If you’re reading this and you’re really thinking “yes, but do you have availability in September?” – you might not be my couple. And that’s genuinely fine. There are brilliant celebrants out there who prioritise different things, who work in different ways. We all have our people.

But if you’re reading this and thinking ” I hope we can find someone who actually gets us,” then let’s talk.

Because my promise to you isn’t that I’ll deliver a ceremony that looks a certain way or hits particular beats or makes everyone cry on cue. My promise is that I’ll take the time to understand what you’re actually celebrating, help you articulate what matters, and create something that feels absolutely, recognisably true to who you are.

Loving, laughing, living – that’s not just my tagline. It’s a fundamental belief that the ceremonies which mark our significant life moments should honour all three. That we can be contemplative without being pompous. That we can take our commitments seriously whilst also acknowledging that you might have ridiculous nicknames for each other. That your ceremony can be exactly as earnest or irreverent or odd as you actually are.

If that sounds right to you – if you’re nodding along thinking “yes, this is exactly what we’ve been trying to articulate” – then I’d love to hear from you. No pressure, no hard sell. Just an exploratory conversation where we work out if this might be something worth building together.

Because the best ceremonies happen when couples and celebrant are genuinely pulling in the same direction. When we’re collaborative rather than transactional.

And honestly? Those are the only ceremonies I’m interested in creating.

What Happens Next

If this resonates, drop me a line or a WhatsApp. We’ll arrange a chat – relaxed, easy-going, fun. I’ll ask questions, you’ll tell stories, we’ll work out if there’s enough of a spark here to move forward. No commitment required at this stage. Just a conversation between people who might potentially create something rather wonderful together.

You can find me at [hello@dawnreesceremonies.com](mailto:hello@dawnreesceremonies.com) or have a look at [www.dawnreesceremonies.com](https://www.dawnreesceremonies.com) to get a sense of my work.

I’m based in Norfolk but genuinely happy to travel I work with couples across the UK and beyond – wherever people are looking for humanist ceremonies that reflect who they actually are rather than who they think they should be.

If we’re meant to work together, you’ll know it quite quickly. And if we’re not? I’ll be honest about that too, and I can probably point you toward someone who’d be a better fit. This work is too important – your ceremony is too important – for either of us to settle for “good enough.”

Let’s find out whether we’re each other’s people.

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You can also read this on my Substack page which publishes weekly musings on all things ceremonies and more.

*I am a humanist celebrant creating personal, meaningful ceremonies across the UK. I believe in sincerity without sentimentality, humour without triviality, and ceremonies that feel authentically yours. When I’m not writing ceremonies, I’m probably stretched out in front of a wood burner reading a book, with excellent food nearby, contemplating Japanese ceramics, or coaching people through interesting career challenges.*