Let’s talk about the real MVPs of my personal development plan: Jude and Scarlett. Age four. Equal parts chaos and charm. They are wild, unpredictable, sticky-fingered bundles of pure energy — and also, low-key, the best training I’ve ever had for working with people of all ages.

People occasionally ask me about my lighting. Not like in a “teach me, oh wise one” kind of way — more like “what the heck are those blinking boxes doing on stands?” But either way, it's worth talking about. Because while natural light is a beautiful thing, it can also be rude, inconsistent, and gone before your clients even show up. Candidly, I prefer the ease of natural light for most shots — But off-camera flash is so useful for “sportraits.” Tastefully utilizing off-camera flash is an important tool to have in your bag and can level the playing field when natural light is being a jerk.

We’ve all been there. Digging through old files, maybe cleaning up your Lightroom catalog (or pretending to), and then — BAM — one of your early edits jumps out at you like a jump scare from a low-budget horror movie.

“What… was I thinking?”

People don’t just hire photographers — they hire humans. A simple interaction while booking photos for our son years ago is a reminder I still carry with me today.

When I enrolled at Western Governors University, I didn’t do it for a raise or a fancy title. I did it because I wanted to raise my ceiling. I wanted to lead better, think sharper, and prove to myself that I could do hard things and come out the other side better for it.

Spoiler alert: It worked.

There comes a moment when you realize the camera you’re eyeing costs more than your first car. That’s fine. Breathe. Swipe the card. It’s an investment, not a mid-life crisis. (Hopefully.)

Here’s a truth I’ve had to learn the long way: finding your voice — in life, in leadership, and yes, in photography — is deeply rooted in knowing your stuff.

See, real confidence isn’t just loud. It’s not bluster or bravado. It’s not saying things just to hear yourself talk or snapping photos just because you have a fancy camera. Real confidence comes from competence — from putting in the reps, doing the work, and knowing you’re bringing something of value to the table.

That kind of confidence is magnetic. It resonates. It gives your work — and your words — weight.

Why I Chose “Laughlin Photography” and Then Immediately Had Regrets

Let me take you back to a simpler time — a time when I was just starting out in photography, full of energy, dreams, and, well...not a whole lot of branding foresight.

So, I named my business Laughlin Photography.

Why? Because it was available. And it was mine. And it sounded professional-ish enough. It wasn’t cringey. It didn’t include the word “Whimsy.” It was fine.

Until it wasn’t.

Truth is, photographing your own kids is emotional. You’re not just trying to get the shot. You’re trying to preserve a moment that feels like it’s flying past too fast. Every photo becomes a little high-stakes. You’re not just capturing their face — you’re holding onto your own memories. And the pressure? It shows.

Let’s go ahead and get this out of the way: I am an overshooter. Proudly. Shamelessly. Some might even say professionally. If there’s a moment unfolding in front of me, you can bet I’m laying on that shutter like it’s a game of Whac-A-Mole.