
Something I’ve learned after photographing more weddings and family sessions than I can count: the day rarely goes as planned. Rain shows up uninvited. The toddler refuses the outfit. Hair and makeup runs forty minutes late. Over the years I’ve built an emergency playbook, of sorts — not a rigid checklist, but a set of instincts I fall back on when things go sideways. It works whether I’m shooting a wedding or a family portrait session, because the underlying problem is always the same: people are stressed, the light is changing, and I have one chance to get it right. And yet, by using this playbook, every single time, the photos still turn out better than anyone expected.
- Create space for everyone to breathe and regroup. When tension spikes, I don’t try to shoot faster, I pause. A few minutes to breathe can reset the whole situation and almost always produces better photos even just five minutes later.
- Assess what everyone’s up for, then problem-solve from there. If people are done, we’re done. If they’re willing to roll with whatever we’ve been dealt (rain, a missing family member, a wardrobe malfunction) we roll with it, and I work to minimize the disruption. If they’re not willing to roll with it, I offer alternatives (a new location for weather, a shifted timeline to include someone who’s running late, a different pose to hide a wardrobe issue). Then I reset everyone’s expectations for how the photos will look and how the change affects the rest of the shoot. (Below: Me testing light through a rainy window, and the subsequent shot)


- Photograph the details. While we wait and breathe a moment, I sometimes shoot the little things that don’t feel intrusive. Hands holding, a hem of a dress, a two-year-old wrapped up in their parent’s arms, the bouquet in the bride’s hands while someone sews her dress back together. When the big moments fall apart, these small, honest details often become the photos people love most.
- Redirect with a simple prompt, not a pose. “Whisper something that made you laugh today” works better than “smile” when everyone’s frazzled. A prompt gives people something to do instead of something to perform. If that doesn’t work, I calmly remind everyone about where we are, what it feels like to be next to each other, what we’re all there to celebrate, and what a luxury it is to simply all be together in one place. We take a deep breath and go from there.
- Build slack into the schedule before I need it. I quietly protect 10–15 minutes of buffer wherever I can, so a late start or a meltdown doesn’t cascade into a lost golden hour. This is separate from the built in buffer time we plan for. I just quietly work a little faster where I can, to create extra space. Most of the time, this results in 10 extra minutes to breath and enjoy the party.
- Lean into candid over posed when plan A collapses. If the formal shot isn’t happening, I stop forcing it and start documenting what’s actually unfolding. Real beats staged, always.

- Keep gear failure boring, not dramatic. A second body, charged batteries, extra cards, lights, a rain cover — it’s all packed and ready so a technical hiccup stays invisible to everyone but me.
- Loop in one calm point person. There’s always at least one person who can help wrangle a group or run interference so I can stay behind the camera instead of managing people.
- Let my own calm set the tone. Stress is contagious, and so is composure. If I stay steady, the people in front of my lens borrow that steadiness.
- Chase the emotion, not the perfect frame. When everything’s off-script, I stop hunting for the “ideal” shot and start hunting for the true one — the relief, the laughter, the held hands. That’s the photo people keep forever anyway.
I know it sucks to have to implement emergency plans, but as a photographer it’s the most important preparedness practice I can have to make sure my clients have the best possible experience every time. This plan doesn’t mean everything goes smoothly, it just means that when it doesn’t, I already know what to do or I have a plan already in the works. The greats are never forged in perfect weather, they’re forged in the fire.
