“I’m too emotionally invested,” I sighed to my husband. I had just completed round 3 or 4 (or 40?) of culling of our family photos for 2022, and was still at 827 photos. My initial grouping had been somewhere around 1600, so this was pretty good. But even so, I couldn’t make a photo book with 800 photos in it. Even with 6 photos per page, I was looking at nearly 140 pages of a family photo book.

It was painful, really, to cut out photos, when I could remember every moment behind every photo. Every moment was part of our family’s story from that year, and our story deserved to be told in full.

At the same time, I probably didn’t need 16 photos of my kids in the bathtub. No matter how adorable they were. But I had cut so many already…

I tried to get my husband in on the action, to help me cut out images that he didn’t like just to give me a break from cutting. But he got bored quickly, wanting to spend his Sunday evening doing his own thing, and he really doesn’t know enough about photography (that’s not a slam) to know if the photo he’s cutting is too good to cut. He cut out 20 before handing back the laptop and promising to help again “tomorrow.”

Bad news though: I was on a mission and a time crunch. I’d been wading through the photos all year, here and there, taking breaks as necessary because it was such a boring, time consuming task. But now I was facing the deadline of the end of a huge sale by my chosen book maker, and I was determined to get it done before the sale expired.

I cut as many more as I possibly could before sitting down at my desk with a virtual stack of 650 photos, in order to wedge as many into a photo book for our family as I could. I set a limit of 60 pages for my book (still a ton) and tried to figure out how to get 10 photos on each page without it being chaotic and messy.

I spent six hours (yes. six.) putting together the book, arranging and rearranging pages and photos into something I was happy with as the sun set and the kids waited for dinner downstairs.

When the book finally arrived a few weeks later, I was a little afraid to open it. Afraid of what all my effort, time, and money looked like, printed into a book 68 pages long (yes, I went over my limit). Wanting it to be beautiful and fearing it wouldn’t live up to the expectations I had for it.

It was perfect.

I love it. But here’s what I would will do differently next year.

I’ll start earlier.

No more of this waiting-until-November to work on this project, when November is already jam packed with tasks and to-dos. Why do that to myself? No, I need to start this year’s project much earlier. Like, in January.

I’ll do less.

I’ll set a hard limit of 200 photos (and give myself grace for 250). 50 pages, max. I don’t want to crowd my photos into each page so they’re a blur when I look through them. I want (and need) white space around the photos so I can actually see them.

The hardest part is truly cutting out good photos. If only I had someone who would do that part for me, a professional who won’t get irritated at the ask. Someone I trusted to do it right, to pick good photos and to ask the questions I can’t answer for myself after photo #59603.

Well, if I can’t get that person for myself, I can at least offer that help to others.

And I am, in the form of the Yearbooks. My newest project promises to help you get your family photo book made in weeks, not months. I offer various options, including a completely-done-for-you option, a “head start” option where I sweep through your images and choose 200 of the best ones for your book, and a completely DIY option that offers accountability, tips, and moral support.

Any which way you prefer to get this book done, I’ll help you do it.

Click here to read more about yearbooks.