The 5-Second Moment at the Halifax Waterfront: Why My Camera Stayed in the Bag

       I was standing next to the railing at the Halifax Waterfront, breathing the crisp salty air, watching a golden retriever chase a seagull near the "Drunken Lampposts." The light was perfect—that specific Nova Scotian "golden hour" that bounces off the harbour water and makes everything look like a postcard.

      A young couple was standing ten feet away, struggling to take a selfie. They were laughing, backlit by the ferry crossing over to Dartmouth. It was the perfect shot. I had my trusty Nikon in my bag. I had my business cards in my pocket—freshly printed.

       All I had to do was walk ten feet. Lift the camera. Offer to take the photo. Hand them a card.

      It was a five-second window.

1, 2, 3…

       I didn’t move. I tightened my grip on my backpack strap, turned around, and walked toward the Salt Yard to buy a coffee I didn't want.

The Elephant in the Room:

       I have been reading Story Worthy by Matthew Dicks. Dicks talks about the "Elephant in the Room"—the thing that everyone knows but no one is saying.

     Here is my elephant: I tell everyone I’m "launching" a photography business, but I am terrified to actually be a photographer.

     We are told that Halifax is a "saturated market." You can’t throw a stone at Point Pleasant Park without hitting three wedding photographers and a drone operator. When you look at the hashtags #HalifaxNoise or #HalifaxPhotographer, it feels like everyone is already doing it, and doing it better.

     But Matthew Dicks argues that our fear often masks the real story. He says that every great story comes down to a five-second moment—a moment of true transformation where you change from one version of yourself to another.

    For months, I thought my "story" was about waiting for the right gear or the perfect portfolio. I told myself I wasn't approaching clients because I needed a better lens or a sharper logo.

    But standing there at the waterfront, watching that couple walk away with a blurry selfie, I realized my story wasn't about equipment. It was about permission.

The "Dinner Table" Test:

    Dicks has a rule called the "Dinner Table Test." If you wouldn't tell the story to a friend over dinner, it’s not a story—it’s just an anecdote.

    If I told my classmates, "I went to the waterfront and didn't take a picture," that’s a boring anecdote.

    But here is the story I would tell at dinner:

    I didn't approach them because I was afraid they would say "no," and that the "no" would prove I wasn't a professional. I was treating my photography business like a fragility test. If I didn't expose it to the real world, it couldn't break.

The Transformation:

    That walk to the coffee shop was my five-second moment of realization.

    I realized that imposter syndrome is just vanity in a cheap suit.

    By not taking the photo, I wasn't "protecting my brand." I was being selfish. I was withholding a skill I had—the ability to capture a beautiful memory for two strangers—because I was worried about how I would look if they rejected me.

    I wasn't a photographer that day. I was just a person with a heavy backpack.

Flipping the Script:

     In marketing, we talk a lot about "pain points" and "value propositions." But Story Worthy teaches us that the most powerful marketing is vulnerability.

    So, here is my new strategy for the Halifax market. I’m not going to pretend I’m the busiest photographer in the HRM. I’m not going to hide the fact that I’m a student.

    Instead, I’m going to use the "Homework for Life" strategy Dicks suggests. Every day, I’m going to write down one story-worthy moment from my journey of starting this business. The failures. The awkward cold calls. The time I set my ISO wrong at the Public Gardens and ruined a whole shoot.

    Because if I can share the story of becoming a photographer, rather than just pretending to be one, I think I’ll find the clients who want to be part of that story.

What's Next?

     Next week, I’m going back to the waterfront. I’m leaving the business cards at home. I’m just taking the camera. And when I see a moment, I’m going to take the shot.

    Not for the portfolio. But to break the fear, five seconds at a time.

   Have you ever frozen up when you had the chance to pitch your passion? Let me know in the comments—I’d love to hear I’m not the only one.