I really loved being a yearbook kid. In high school, my best friend and I always said, “Once a yearbook kid, always a yearbook kid.” Without a doubt, I prospered as my own person there. I found incredible friendships, and I learned a lot of hard lessons about people.
I joined yearbook as a joke. It was the year of COVID–crazy how such a pivotal time for nearly every individual around the globe is now just a historical event of the past–and it was almost the summer before my sophomore year of high school. That was a rough summer. I had no idea who I was, and I finally felt like I had found a footing in school, but it was taken away.
I was an only child, so I spent quite a bit of time alone during the pandemic. During the quarantine post-spring break, I received a DM from a junior at my high school. She sent me an invite to apply for the yearbook program because I had done well in my journalism class throughout the year. I applied thinking, “Hey, if it sucks, I can just leave.”
Spoiler: Fifteen-year-old me found out quickly that that’s not how these things work.
In the fall of 2020, I completed my first-through-seventh-period classes online, but my dad allowed me to participate in the yearbook club on campus. Throughout the year, I was able to learn more about journalistic writing, talking to people through interviews and collaborations; I dabbled in graphic design (which was never quite my strong suit, but I liked doing it), I photographed high school sporting events, I found my–still– absolutely brilliant and beautiful best friends, learned about myself, met the most iconic mentor, found confidence, discovered joy, tasted freedom, deepend my understanding of life’s adversities, and most importantly, grew into the person I know today.
I always assumed photography would eventually become a hobby. I considered everything from law to accounting to medicine because I thought I needed to choose something more "serious."
I put a lot of pressure on myself in that aspect. I never wanted to let anyone down.
On another note, I was also equally applied pressure onto myself monetarily, academically, and especially throughout my time in the yearbook program.
I admired my sophomore-year Editors-In-Chief more than anything. I had an absolute blast just…creating.
The minute I saw an opportunity to be a helping hand and showcase my dedication, I took it. (I felt like such a badass staying at school until 10:00 PM, writing a story in the newsroom with just me, my now-close friend, the two EICS, and the most lovely teacher in the whole world.) I became very, very, very committed.
I was stoked for my upcoming junior year in high school. I prayed I’d be the next Editor-In-Chief. I manifested it because my now-best friend (@MORGANWORLLEDGEPHOTO ON IG BABYYYY) and I were both promoted to the roles.
During this year, I found out what it meant to be a leader, life balance (which I still haven’t quite figured out yet…), and challenges of collaboration.
A.k.a humans aren’t simple controlled variables, including myself.
It was hard.
I hated it.
I loved it.
It was frustrating.
It was exhilarating.
It was ridiculous.
It was absolutely rewarding.
When we finally finished that book and passed it out, I felt accomplished. There is no other feeling like giving people joy and amusement through a token of memories.
I kept going and was the most excited for book three.
However, book three is where I learned that sometimes life’s a bitch and you have to make lemons into lemonade.
We had a switch of yearbook advisors and it didn’t fit as well as it had before.
Sometimes the things you love, want, need–leave. As I said, life isn’t a controlled variable.
My dad felt terrible for me that this thing that I loved was causing me such heartache. He got me the same camera we used in yearbook (Thank you, dad).
Without working the book, I found a lot of free time, but I had a camera.
I bought my school’s seasonal athletic pass and started going to a bunch of games for fun. Morgan and I both did. We also did some separately. I started doing my friends’ graduation portraits. This is where I started finding a little independence in life, confidence in my own work, and played with ideas that no one could say no to.
I graduated.
I went to college at the University of North Florida with Morgan.
I went through a long slump and wallowed in freshman pity wasteland.
I was an accounting major.
I had no idea who I was anymore.
December hit.
I changed my major to journalism and political science; I adore my decision, my time at UNF, and its inspiring professors who guided me.
Morgan got me a photography job at a dance competition.
I picked up my camera again for the first time in four months.
I got a couple of photography requests from seniors back home.
I got an opportunity to shadow a wedding in Alabama.
(We are so back babyyyyy!)
Once I got my toe in the water of wedding photography, it was a full nose-dive in.
I learned real quick that this was going to be the new thing.
My thing.
I still had it in the back of my mind that I would do something serious with my life. I fully intended to apply to law school this upcoming fall.
However, the last two years of my life have been an absolute whirlwind.
After the summer of my first wedding, I was in my sophomore year of college and occasionally getting $25 an hour to drive three hours away to second-shoot weddings through an outsourced company. I made the most of it, though. I actually shot at the gorgeous Crane Club at Tesoro in Port Saint Lucie, FL. It’s incredible in person.
I booked my first SOLO WEDDING that November for the upcoming February. That wedding remains one of my favorites. I had no idea what to expect, and I was both nervous and ecstatic.
I walked up to a marina, with a little cute restaurant to the right and a bunch of boats to the left. I proceeded forward, and the bride had rented out a renovated school bus–painted blue–for her getting-ready spot. The ceremony spot was in front of a crystal blue inland sea, and the reception was held under a wooden cabana. If you’re a wedding photographer or currently planning a wedding, you understand how this was the jackpot of a first wedding.
Jesse and Christian were the sweetest couple. I will always remember her asking me to recreate MY photo from that Crane Club wedding. I can’t describe the feeling of getting to know them during one of the biggest days of their lives and immersing myself in a family and group of friends for a fleeting moment, so I make sure they have something to remember it by.
I went home that night feeling grateful. I delivered the photos within twenty-four hours because I couldn’t wait.
Real adversity and dilemmas have hit me like a bus over the last two years because I have faced this feeling after every single wedding I’ve had and every single thank-you text from a client I have ever received.
It was hard, though.
I sold myself short for a long while and did a lot for a little.
That is in no way, shape, or form a statement of distaste.
I've met incredible people from every walk of life, and every wedding has taught me something new. And it brings me pride and joy to do my everything to be a helping hand for the bride and groom–in more ways than photography.
I’m now two months post-graduation, and I know that if I go to law school–I’m either wasting money or saying goodbye to Shot By Bice.
Neither one of those sounds like great options, so I decided neither and chose this. Again.
I walked away from yearbook as an adolescent because I thought it would be best for me personally and academically. That benefit doesn’t apply to what Shot By Bice has become for me.
I am currently writing my first blog post from a La Quinta Inn in Portland, OR, waiting for my flight that takes off in four hours, and I’m still awake at 1 A.M. writing this.
I just finished my first photography retreat here in Oregon along the coast. I’ve met so many creative, talented, funny, and lovely people–all of whom aim for the same thing…to get better, to learn, to create, and build community.
I’ve been incredibly isolated the last two years, and I can’t confidently say I know what I’m doing. Sometimes I get paranoid about my work like any artist. I get discouraged like any entrepreneur. And for once, it’s nice not to feel like I’m alone and to meet other photographers with the same struggles I face.
I don't know exactly what's next for me, and honestly, that's okay.
What I do know is that I want to keep pursuing wedding photography.
I genuinely love every part of it—from the early-morning excitement of arriving at a venue to the quiet hours spent editing and delivering each gallery. I love meeting people I'll only know for a single day and having the privilege of preserving one of the most meaningful moments of their lives.
Every wedding reminds me why I picked up a camera in the first place.
Looking back, I don't think yearbook simply taught me how to photograph people.
It taught me how to notice them.
It taught me to tell stories instead of just taking pictures. It taught me to anticipate emotion, to pay attention to the moments between the moments, and to understand that the smallest interactions often become the memories people treasure most.
Without yearbook, there wouldn't be Shot By Bice.
The newsroom gave me confidence, lifelong friendships, unforgettable mentors, and a passion for storytelling that never really left me. When I thought I had walked away from that chapter, I didn't realize it was quietly preparing me for the next one.
Now, instead of creating yearbooks that preserve a single school year, I get to create galleries that preserve one of the biggest days in someone's life.
That's an incredible privilege, and it's one I don't take lightly.
So, if you're here because you're considering trusting me with your wedding day—thank you. I can't promise perfection, but I can promise that I'll care deeply about your story, celebrate right alongside you, and do everything I can to make sure you have photographs that bring you back to those moments for decades to come.
After all, I've always believed the best photographs aren't just images.
They're memories you get to hold onto forever.
