Hey friends!

You know what’s funny? When I first started really pushing to grow Lilley Photography, I had people tell me I should think bigger. “Expand to Indianapolis,” they said. “Market to the bigger cities,” they suggested. “You’ll never make it staying so local.”

And honestly? For a hot minute, I listened. I started thinking maybe they were right. Maybe I needed to cast a wider net, chase the bigger markets, go where the money supposedly was.

But then something happened that reminded me exactly why I do what I do – and where I’m meant to do it.

The Moment That Changed Everything

I was at the grocery store in Cambridge City, just picking up milk and bread like you do, when I heard someone call out, “Camera Lady!” I turned around to see a woman I’d photographed maybe two years ago – her daughter’s senior pictures.

She came up to me with tears in her eyes and showed me her phone. It was one of the photos from that session, and she told me her daughter had just sent it to her from college with a message that said, “Thanks for making me do the photos, Mom. I’m so glad I have these.”

Y’all, I almost cried right there in the dairy aisle.

That moment – that random Tuesday afternoon encounter in a small-town grocery store – that’s what this is all about. That’s the stuff you can’t get in a big city where you’re just another photographer among thousands.

The Beauty of Being Known

In Wayne County, I’m not just “a photographer.” I’m “The Camera Lady.” And while I used to think that was maybe too casual or not professional enough, I’ve come to absolutely love it.

Because being “The Camera Lady” means something here. It means I’m part of the community. It means people trust me with their most important moments. It means I see the same families grow and change over the years.

I’ve photographed babies who are now seniors. I’ve captured first days of school that turned into graduation days. I’ve been at the games, the parades, the festivals, the moments that make up the fabric of our community.

The Connections You Can’t Manufacture

Last month, I was photographing a senior session, and the mom mentioned that her daughter was stressed about college applications. Without even thinking about it, I told her about another senior I’d worked with who’d gone through the same thing and offered to connect them.

That’s the thing about small towns – we’re all connected. We all know someone who knows someone. And instead of that feeling limiting, it feels like a safety net. A support system. A community that actually means something.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been at a session and ended up talking about someone’s cousin who I photographed last year, or their neighbor who recommended me, or their kid’s teammate who I see at every game.

These aren’t just transactions. These are relationships.

The Friday Night Lights Effect

If you’ve ever been to a high school football game in a small town, you know what I’m talking about. It’s not just about the game – it’s about the whole community coming together.

I’m there on the sidelines with my camera, and I’m not just capturing the players. I’m capturing the cheerleaders who’ve been practicing all week, the band kids giving it their all at halftime, the parents in the stands who wouldn’t miss this for the world, the little siblings running around being adorable.

And here’s the magic: I know most of these people. I’ve photographed their families, their senior pictures, their babies. When I post those game photos, I’m not just posting to strangers on the internet – I’m sharing moments with people who were there, who care, who are part of this community.

That connection? You can’t buy that. You can’t manufacture it. It just exists here, in these small towns where everybody knows everybody.

The Parade That Made Me Cry

Every year, I photograph the Cambridge City Canal Days Parade. And every year, I tell myself I’m not going to get emotional about it.

And every year, I absolutely do.

Because there’s something about watching this whole community come together – the local businesses on their floats, the kids throwing candy, the veterans riding by, the fire trucks with their sirens, the families lining the streets – that just gets me.

This is home. These are my people. This is where I belong.

I could be photographing corporate events in Indianapolis or weddings in Cincinnati, but instead, I’m here, capturing the moments that matter to the people who matter to me.

The Generational Moments

One of my favorite things that’s started happening is photographing multiple generations of the same family. I’ll photograph a senior, and then a few years later, I’m photographing their younger sibling. Or I’ll do a family session, and then get called back for the new baby.

I’m watching families grow and change, and I get to document it. I get to be part of their story.

Last year, I photographed a grandmother, her daughter, and her granddaughter all together. Three generations. And the grandmother told me she remembered when I first started out, photographing local events and sports games, just trying to make a name for myself.

“Look at you now,” she said. “You’re part of this community’s history.”

Y’all, I wasn’t ready for that.

The Support System

When I was going through a rough patch with the business last year – questioning everything, wondering if I should just give up and get a regular job – it was this community that kept me going.

The messages from clients telling me how much my photos meant to them. The parents who specifically requested me for their kid’s senior pictures. The local businesses who recommended me. The friends who shared my posts and cheered me on.

In a big city, I’d just be another struggling photographer. But here, I’m part of something bigger. People want to see me succeed because they know me. They care about me. They’re invested in my success because I’m invested in this community.

Why I’m Never Leaving

So yeah, I could probably make more money if I expanded to bigger markets. I could probably book more sessions if I cast a wider net. I could probably grow faster if I went after the big city clients.

But I’d lose this. I’d lose the connections, the relationships, the feeling of being part of something real and meaningful.

I’d lose the grocery store encounters and the coffee shop conversations. I’d lose the multigenerational sessions and the Friday night lights. I’d lose the parades that make me cry and the community that holds me up when things get hard.

And honestly? No amount of money is worth losing that.

The Real Definition of Success

I used to think success meant having the biggest client list, the fanciest equipment, the most impressive portfolio. I thought it meant being known far and wide, having people drive hours to work with me, building some kind of photography empire.

But I’ve learned that success looks different than I thought.

Success is the mom who stops me in the grocery store to thank me. It’s the senior who tells their friends about me. It’s the family who comes back year after year. It’s being part of the moments that matter in a community that matters.

Success is being “The Camera Lady” in a small town where everybody knows everybody.

And honestly? I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

To My Small Town Friends

If you’re reading this and you’re from Wayne County, Hancock County, Fayette County, Randolph County, Union County, or any of the surrounding areas – thank you. Thank you for trusting me with your moments. Thank you for recommending me to your friends. Thank you for being part of this journey with me.

You’re not just clients. You’re my community. You’re my neighbors. You’re my friends.

And every time I pick up my camera to photograph one of you, I’m reminded of exactly why I do this and why I’m never leaving.

This is home. You are home.

And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

What’s your favorite small town moment? Drop it in the comments – I’d love to hear what makes your community special!

Until next time, Alisha, the Camera Lady 📸