Last month, when I saw photographer April Morrison’s beautiful photograph of milkweed pods in snow, I was instantly brought back to my childhood. One fall, my mother, along with my sisters and me, collected dozens of dried out pods. She then cleaned them out, decorated the insides, and made each one into a winter scene by gluing small, plastic figurines, felt, rickrack, and glitter into the prepared pods. These dioramas were then carted down to our church and sold at the annual Christmas bazaar fundraiser.

Milkweed Pod with Snow. Photography by April Morrison. Copyright April Morrison

Seeing Morrison’s pod photograph, and remembering my mother’s milkweed Christmas tree ornament, was delightful in itself, but it made me realize the importance of the feeling of a memory, not just the facts of a memory. Lucky for me, one of my sister’s still has her milkweed pod ornament, made by our mother decades ago, and I’m able to share it with you below.

Milkweed Ornament made by Emily Keeton, approximately 1972

Tapping into how both photographs and the memory made me feel, and also pondering about how I think I felt about it back when I was seven, was an excellent exercise that I used to capture emotions. It is exactly what a writer needs in order to develop depth to a character, a scene, or an action. “Show, not tell” is ingrained in all of us writers for a reason. Without layers, a novel becomes flat, like a textbook.

The other reason to incorporate feelings is to relate to your reader. There are passages of books that stay with me because of how they made me feel when I read them. Layers draw me in as a reader and allow me to interpret the scene. The writer is acknowledging that the reader is smart and doesn’t need everything spelled out. Besides, words can only go so far. I can’t remember having any emotions from reading a manual.

Emotions enrich fiction in many ways:
—They create character-driven work. While we may admire a plot, it’s the characters that we attach ourselves to as readers.
—They give depth to the plot. For example, a car chase is just a car chase if we don’t know the importance of it, or the tension in it.
—They raise the stakes. We all learn when we study craft that creating tension, and more tension, is what keeps driving the work forward.
—They cause the characters to react. Have you ever had something you’ve written critiqued by a writers’ group, and the reviewers ask, “Why would she have done that?” Or “Why didn’t she respond to that?” Being true to the emotions in the work as a writer allows the reader to put themselves in the characters’ shoes.

I’m grateful to Morrison’s photograph for bringing me back to my childhood and my creative mother. As writers and photographers, being in touch with our emotions are important and conveying them to our audiences allow us to have a universal connection.

What works evoked feelings that you still remember? Can you think of a memory that evokes an emotion you’d like to convey in a piece you’re working on? Use it to drive the work to a new level, one that will grab your reader and make them remember you and how you made them feel. They won’t forget you.

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Thank you to April Morrison for allowing me to use her photograph in this piece. All rights belong to her. To view more of her wonderful work, please visit her photography pages:
Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/photos_by_aprilmorrison?igsh=cHRwMDU5cjdmYTUx

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/share/18oxmdfvDY/?mibextid=wwXIfr

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Allison Keeton’s debut novel is Blaze Orange, Book One in the Midcoast Maine Mystery series. Arctic Green, Book Two, hits the streets (and snowmobile trails) in February 2026. She can be reached at http://www.akeetonbooks.com