Many years ago, I sat at my desk and dreaded editing my photos. I wasn’t interested in it — not one bit. Photoshop felt overwhelming, and Lightroom didn’t even exist yet. The tools available for beginners were clunky, frustrating, and anything but inspiring.
One afternoon, while wandering through my local camera shop, one of the guys mentioned a brand-new program for photographers. I ran home, downloaded Lightroom 1.0, and I was hooked — not because it let me organize and edit, but because it made organizing and editing simple.
Lightroom was built by photographers, for photographers, and it showed. I started following pros like Matt Kloskowski and Julianne Kost, learning everything I could from their videos. With over 35 years in software development, part of me even dreamed of working alongside them one day. But truth be told, I didn’t want to edit — I wanted to chase the click.
Chasing the Click
I loved the adventure — the research, the scouting, the late-night drives to lonely coastlines. I’d arrive an hour before sunrise, setting up in the dark while the ocean whispered its secrets.
An hour before the sun crossed the horizon, I’d crouch behind my camera and fall completely into it. The rest of the world disappeared. All that existed was what I could see through the lens — the soft wind, the salt air, the symphony of anticipation.
I told stories through my viewfinder, letting the rocks, waves, and clouds play their parts like actors in some quiet production. When the sun finally rose, it almost felt like the curtain closing.
I’d hurry home, upload my photos into Lightroom, find my keeper, edit for no more than two minutes, share it, and move on. I taught workshops, marveled at new features, and refined my workflow to a fine art.
And then, life changed.
The Pause
As I recovered from my surgery I had a TON of downtime on my hands. I browsed my keepers from over the years on my iPad, and began writing the stories behind the photos.
Story after story, some images having more than one story! Month by month I got stronger and was eventually sitting in a chair for short periods of time and walking around the house.
The Prints
Before long we got my printer and supplies out of storage and into my office. And I started playing with photos again.
Before my injury, printing was mostly large sized images for restaurants, hospitals, nursing homes, etc.
Something that you hung on the wall and took a step back to admire. No, this time its different. Small prints.
Ones that I can hold just like I held my tablet, but on paper. Paper that has weight to it, a texture and quality that you can’t get from a screen.
This summer I printed hundreds of prints. Tiny 4×6″ prints in little shadow boxes that I put on my desk. I call them “Little Landscapes”.
I fell in love with a 13×19″ paper, that seemed to be the best size to just stand and hold. Stacks and stacks and stacks of prints, my normally tidy, everything in its place office was in complete disarray.
As I printed more I began to browse through my catalog of images. For years I did not develop any photos at all.
If I was feeling good and my body was up to it, I would go out and chase the click. Go about my routine of creating images, take them home, upload them and back them up. And then nothing.
The physical activity sent all my symptoms into overdrive, often lasting weeks at a time. By then the images were old, and I was just off chasing the next click.
And the Stories?
I am happy to say that the stories are all alive and well! I took my favorite 49 photos from my life before my injury and put the images and the stories together into a book called “Through My Eyes”, available on Amazon.
Why 49? Apparently, I am unable to count to 50
Are there more? Yes!!! After all the feedback about wanting more of the stories, I have another book in the works called “Hope”. I hope to have that available to you all very soon! Sign up for my newsletter to learn more as the story develops!
The Joy of Editing Again
One afternoon, getting ready for my photo club meeting, I opened Lightroom to prepare some image reviews. Then — there it was — a photo I’d never edited.
It was 6:01 PM. I had 29 minutes before I had to leave. And I had to develop it.
Five minutes later, I had created an image that felt alive again. I leaned into the Lightroom Develop module, shaping the light, guiding the eye, and rekindling the spark that first drew me to photography.
After years of chasing the click, I’d found something new: the joy of slowing down, using the editing process as a way to relive an adventure. Almost as good as falling into the viewfinder, I found myself getting lost in the editing, minutes becoming hours.
For years, I chased the click.
Now, I chase connection — the quiet joy of holding an image in my hands, knowing it waited years to be seen.
Learn Lightroom with Me — Upcoming Workshop at Wickford Art Association
If this story resonates with you — if you’ve ever felt lost in your edits, or just want to fall in love with Lightroom again — come join me for an in-person Lightroom workshop at the Wickford Art Association.
We’ll cover:
- How to build a fast, consistent workflow in Lightroom
- Using light and tone to tell a story
- My favorite “two-minute edit” method for simple, stunning images
- Hands-on time with your own photos — because learning happens best when it’s personal
📍 Where: Wickford Art Association, 36 Beach St, North Kingstown, RI
🗓 When: Sunday, November 9 & Saturday, November 15, 3–6 PM
💻 Register: Wickford Art Association
Whether you’re brand new to Lightroom or looking to rekindle that creative spark, this workshop will help you rediscover what drew you to photography in the first place — the joy, the story, and the magic of light.
Final Thoughts
Photography has always been my anchor — the thing that steadies me when life’s tides rise too high. Lightroom became my companion in that process. It’s not just a tool for editing anymore; it’s a space for reflection, for rediscovery, and for reconnecting with the art that lives inside the frame.
Maybe that’s what photography really is — chasing the click until you finally find yourself.
