Writing a Will in Your 20s: The Cheapest Adulting Task You'll Ever Do

Nobody in their twenties thinks about wills, because wills are for old people with houses and grandchildren. Here's the uncomfortable truth: if you're an adult with a bank account, a car, a pet, or anyone who depends on you, you already have an estate — it's just small. And if you die without a will, your state has one for you. It's called intestate succession, it's a one-size-fits-all plan written by legislators, and it almost certainly doesn't match what you'd actually want.

Start with what a will does at your age, because it's less about money than people think. First, it names who gets your stuff — your savings, your car, your belongings — instead of leaving it to a formula that splits everything among relatives you may barely know. Second, and more important for many young adults, it names guardians for minor children and, in most states, lets you express who should take your pets. Third, it names an executor — the person who handles the paperwork — instead of forcing your grieving family to petition a court to appoint someone. Fourth, paired with two companion documents, it covers the scenario where you're incapacitated but alive: a healthcare proxy names who makes medical decisions for you, and a durable power of attorney names who handles your finances. Those two matter at any age, because accidents don't check your birth year.

Now the part that shocks people: what happens without one. Your assets go through probate anyway — a will doesn't skip probate, it just makes probate fast and predictable. Without a will, the court follows state law: typically your spouse gets a share, then parents, then siblings, in a fixed order. Got a partner you're not married to? They get nothing, automatically, no matter how long you've been together. Want your dog to go to your best friend instead of the relative who's allergic? The state doesn't do pet preferences. The default plan also costs more — intestate probate tends to take longer and rack up higher fees, which come out of the estate before anyone inherits anything.

The good news is that a basic will is cheap and fast. Online will services run $50 to $150 for a state-specific will, and the whole process takes under an hour for a straightforward situation. Some employers offer legal plans as a benefit that include wills for free — check your benefits portal before paying anything. There are even free templates online, though a paid service that asks you state-specific questions is worth the small cost to avoid the common DIY mistakes, like forgetting to name a backup executor or failing to sign with the right number of witnesses, which can invalidate the whole thing in some states.

A few things a young person's will should include that people forget. Name beneficiaries on your accounts separately — bank accounts, retirement accounts, and life insurance pass to their named beneficiaries regardless of what your will says, so a will that says "everything to my sister" loses to a 401(k) beneficiary form that still says "my ex." Update those forms the same day you sign the will. Name digital executors or at least leave a list of accounts — your photos, your crypto, your social accounts all live behind passwords your family can't guess. And if you own anything with someone else, check how the title reads — joint tenancy with right of survivorship passes outside the will automatically.

Then the maintenance, which is where wills actually fail. A will is a living document in the worst sense: it only works if it matches your current life. Marriage, divorce, a new kid, a breakup, a falling-out with the person you named as executor — any of these can make your will wrong. The rule is simple: review it every three to five years and after every major life event. Most online services let you update for free or cheap. A will that names your college roommate as executor when you're 35 with two kids is a document that exists without working.

The objection everyone raises is superstition: writing a will feels like inviting something. It isn't. It's a forty-five-minute chore that costs less than a dinner out and saves the people you love months of court paperwork at the worst moment of their lives. The most loving thing a will does has nothing to do with money — it's the sentence that says who takes the dog. That sentence takes thirty seconds to write, and without it, nobody knows.

You're an adult. Act like the paperwork knows it. Write the will.

Disclosure: This article was drafted with AI assistance and reviewed by the author.