Through the Lens – How Photography Fuels My Writing

Updated Oct. 31st, 2024

A picture might be worth a thousand words, but for me, each click of the shutter holds a whole story—a moment layered with details waiting to be unraveled. Photography isn’t just a hobby; it’s a second set of eyes, always teaching me to look deeper, which inevitably spills over into how I write.

When I’m behind the camera, I’m not just snapping what’s in front of me. I’m searching for the subtle things others might overlook—a shadow stretching across a path, the warmth of light breaking through clouds, or the raw emotion flickering in a quiet, unguarded moment. All these little things matter just as much in my novels. The smallest details make my characters feel alive, like they’ve got stories to tell—not just on the surface, but deeper ones waiting for the right moment to reveal themselves.

There’s a certain thrill in framing a scene, channeling my inner Ansel Adams to capture what feels like the soul of the setting. Like Adams, I’m always hunting for the composition that tells the bigger story: the way lines pull your eye through a frame, how textures work with light and shadow, the balance that feels just right. Writing feels like that too. When I set up a scene in a story, I’m framing it in my mind—finding the right angles, atmosphere, and details that will transport readers directly into the moment.

Photography taught me the value of patience and precision, especially when I was learning and using a 35mm film camera. Unlike digital photography today, where you can snap thousands of frames to try and get your perfect shot, every click on a film camera counted. With a limited number of shots in a roll, you had to make each one matter. There was a kind of preciousness to that, knowing you had to capture the moment, with no second chances. I try to bring the same care to my writing, focusing on each scene and each word with the intention to get it right, knowing that every detail counts.

But some moments, I realize, are too good, or personal, to capture. There are times I feel the instinct to raise my camera—and then stop myself. Those moments, where it’s better to just absorb it, are just as important to me as the ones I capture. I find it difficult to be in the moment when I am staring through a camera. Sometimes it’s a sunrise over a misty lake, the light catching a mountain trail just right, or a quiet connection between me and the outdoor scene I take in. It’s like the camera will interrupt the magic. These experiences, ones I keep for me, they sneak their way into my writing, adding a kind of authenticity I hope lets readers feel like they’re there with me.

At its core, both photography and writing come down to seeing things others might miss and sharing them in a way that feels real. In one, I capture what’s in front of me; in the other, what’s within me. And if I do it right, maybe, just maybe, you’ll feel it too.