How Photography Influences My Writing: Capturing Emotion in Every Scene
Before I was a novelist, I was a photographer.
And even now—long after I traded my camera bag for manuscripts and storyboards—I still see the world in frames.
Photography didn’t just teach me how to take pictures.
It taught me how to see.
How to notice the quiet moments most people rush past.
How to pay attention to the subtle shift of emotion in someone’s expression.
How to capture a feeling, not just an image.
These are the same instincts I bring into my writing, especially in Love in Lijiang.
Every scene, every description, every moment of connection between Siyu and Richard is shaped by the lens I’ve spent years looking through.
Let’s explore how photography transformed my storytelling—and why it brings a unique emotional depth to the novel.
Photography Teaches You to Notice the Small Things
Photography doesn’t just teach you how to take better pictures—it trains you to see more deeply. Nikon explains that understanding the fundamentals of photography, like light, composition, and focus, helps you become more intentional about what you notice and how you frame the world around you.
That same intention carries into writing: the more closely you pay attention to small details and fleeting emotions, the more vivid and emotionally honest your scenes become.
Because stories aren’t made from big moments alone.
They’re built from:
A look.
A gesture.
A color.
A fleeting shadow.
A held breath.
A hand reaching but not quite touching.
A sigh that carries a memory.
These details become the emotional “texture” of a scene.
They turn words into images—images into feelings—and feelings into meaning.
Photography trained me to pay attention to those tiny pieces of humanity that often say more than dialogue ever could.
The Light Behind Emotion
One of the greatest lessons photography taught me is this:
Light reveals emotion.
The same street can feel safe at dawn, lonely at twilight, and electric at night—simply because of the way light changes.
When I write scenes in Lijiang, I think about:
• the warm glow of lanterns reflecting in the canals
• the soft morning light washing over Siyu as she walks to work
• the cool shadows where Richard hides his heartbreak
• the golden hour where their connection feels inevitable
Light carries emotion.
Light shapes mood.
Light sets the pace of a moment.
A photographer always asks,
“Where is the light coming from? What is it illuminating?”
A writer asks the same thing emotionally.
Composition Applies to Storytelling Too
Photography is all about framing.
Where you place a subject determines what the viewer feels.
What you choose to crop out says as much as what you leave in.
Where you draw the eye guides the emotional experience.
Writing works the same way.
In Love in Lijiang, the “composition” of a scene might look like:
— focusing on Siyu’s trembling hands rather than the entire room
— describing the silence before Richard speaks instead of the words he says
— centering the reflection in the water instead of the crowded street
— highlighting one small sensory detail while letting the rest fade
This selective framing helps readers live inside a moment rather than simply observing it.
Photography taught me how to build a scene that feels intentional, intimate, and immersive.
Visual Details Make Fiction Come Alive
Readers often tell me Love in Lijiang feels cinematic.
That’s intentional.
Photography gave me the instinct to:
✨ capture atmosphere
✨ use natural light
✨ let emotion take center stage
✨ freeze a moment long enough to feel its weight
When Siyu stands on a bridge and looks at her reflection in the water, I see it the same way I would through a camera lens:
— the ripples softening her expression
— the lantern light making her eyes seem brighter
— the stillness of the night holding her emotion
When Richard watches her, I imagine how the focus would shift:
Foreground: her quiet beauty
Background: the world softening behind her
Emotion: centered, clear, undeniable
Fiction becomes vivid when it borrows the tools of photography.
Every Photo Is a Story Waiting to Be Written
Every photographer knows this truth:
A photograph isn’t just an image.
It’s a moment.
A memory.
A heartbeat captured in time.
Behind every photograph is:
• a before
• an after
• a hidden emotion
• a choice someone made
• a story someone lived
This is why photography blends so beautifully with writing.
When I take a picture, I always ask:
“What is this moment trying to say?”
When I write, I ask the same question.
Every written scene is a photograph made with words.
Each chapter is an album of emotional snapshots:
The first time Richard sees Siyu’s smile.
The moment Siyu feels her shoulders drop when she realizes she feels safe with him.
The quiet dinners where neither says much, but everything is understood.
The landscapes that reflect the feelings they can’t speak yet.
These scenes are photographs—quiet, intimate, meaningful.
Why Photography Will Always Be Part of My Writing Process
Even when I’m deep in a manuscript, photography stays close.
I take pictures of:
— lanterns swaying at dusk
— canals reflecting sunset
— mountains disappearing into fog
— crowds moving like water through city streets
— tiny moments that carry unspoken emotion
These images become reference points for my writing.
They remind me of the soul of the story.
They help me return to the atmosphere I want readers to feel in their bones.
Photography keeps my storytelling honest, emotional, and deeply visual.
See the World Through My Lens
If you want to step into a love story shaped by imagery, emotion, and cinematic detail…
See the world through my lens in Love in Lijiang.
And join my email list for behind-the-scenes photos, deleted scenes, and inspiration from both China and New York.
Every story begins with a moment worth capturing.