here goes everything!
hey,
you found Cool Dzins.
So... this is it. The first real issue of Cool Dzins! I’m really doing it, putting a passion project out there and getting a little vulnerable.
This month’s content is all about starting—the awkward, hopeful, terrifying, energizing stuff. The “what if I actually do this?” stuff. The where you’re not totally sure where it’s all headed, but something in you says, keep going kinda stuff.
Inside these pages, you’ll find the nuggets of me launching my photography business (for real this time), a look behind the scenes, the stuff I’m carrying into this season (some of it’s heavy, some of it’s holy), and a moodboard of shoots I dream about doing one day. I even made a list of 31 things I know—or absolutely don’t—because I turned 31 this month and that felt like a good enough excuse to get reflective.
Cool Dzins is still what I said it would be: messy, nostalgic, sometimes deep, sometimes dumb fun. It’s about creating for the sake of creating, and letting the act of making something be enough. No rules. No perfect plan. Just a collection of things that felt worth putting on the page.
Thanks for reading. Thanks for being here. Let’s see where this goes and I hope you find something cool in here.
FOR MORE CREATIVE CHAOS, CHECK OUT: Instagram: @kropkreative | LinkedIn: Kayla Ermer kropkreative.com/links
this might work
Sooooo basically I’ve been dragging my feet on really launching my business—not because I don’t believe in what I’m building, but because, deep down, I do. And that’s really been the source of what’s freaking me out. It sounds kind of crazy right?!
Imposter syndrome has always been in the mix, sure. I’ve had all the usual doubts: am I legit enough? ready enough? will people care, or just scroll past? But lately, I’ve noticed a different kind of fear showing up. It’s not just the fear of failing. It’s the fear of succeeding. What if this actually works?
What if I do get a bunch of bookings? What if people connect with what I’m creating? What if I really am building something?
That possibility is both exhilarating and terrifying. Because when something starts to feel real, it suddenly feels a lot more vulnerable, too. It’s one thing to dream quietly. It’s another to say, out loud, “I’m doing this,” and open yourself up to being seen.
The truth is, I’ve been a photographer for years now. I’ve shot events, worked with real clients, delivered galleries, met deadlines, made people feel seen. My friends and family have been a huge source of experience and trust, but it’s more than that—I’ve done the work. I know I’ve got the stuff.
So maybe this moment—this zine, this harder launch, this quiet but bold step—isn’t really about becoming a photographer. Maybe it’s about finally admitting that I already am one. And that maybe, just maybe... this might work.
i can do this
This is what it looks like to start before you’re 100% ready—figuring it out as I go, and still showing up.
What started as a soft launch has quietly turned into a full send. Krop Kreative isn’t just an idea anymore. It’s real. It’s happening.
31ithings know... or don’t I can do this!
In honor of turning 31 this month, I made a list—part pep talk, part question mark. A few things I’ve learned, a few I’m still figuring out.
It’s okay to change your mind.
Prayer is super powerful.
Time spent making something just for you is never wasted. What the heck the algorithm wants.
There’s no right way to build a dream.
Creative burnout is real.
Done is always better than perfect.
What happens after things do work out.
Water over all other beverages.
How to comparingstopmyself to people on the internet.
You can outgrow past versions of yourself.
Everything feels less scary once you start.
Rest is part of the process.
Having health challenges really sucks.
Nobody knows what they’re doing at first.
If I’m too much or not enough.
I will make mistakes.
Leaders don’t know everything.
Alcohol is sooooo overrated. Breakthroughs come after a breakdown.
If I’m too much or not enough.
There is always more to learn.
Most people aren’t paying that much attention.
Starting small still counts.
There is more to life than work.
How to rest without feeling guilty.
Good food is so important.
You don’t have to monetize every idea.
Family means everything.
Doubt doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.
it’s a mood ’
These photos weren’t taken by me...yet. Just glimpses of the kind of magic I’d love to make one day!
what’s in my bag (metaphorically) ’
I’m carrying a left shoulder that hurts more than I let on.
I’m carrying GERD, hypothyroidism, and a body that feels slower than it used to.
I’m carrying a weakened immune system and the quiet guilt of not moving enough.
I’m carrying the weight of care—sometimes for myself, sometimes not enough.
But I’m also carrying hope.
I’m carrying spiritual growth and the quiet confidence that God is working, even when I don’t see the full picture.
I’m carrying joy from Sunday mornings and the warm re-rooting of being part of a church that feels like home again.
I’m carrying a budget spreadsheet that finally makes sense—built with my husband and fueled by our dreams.
I’m carrying a camera, a calling, and a business that’s just beginning to bloom.
I’m carrying laughter around the dinner table, texts from friends who cheer me on, and a family that shows up.
I’m carrying creativity, curiosity, and the magic of making zines just because I can.
Oh—and a killer nomato sauce recipe. Because GERD-safe nourishment counts too.
still figuring it out
Some days I wake up feeling super lit up—like I can totally do this. Like everything I’ve been slowly building is finally starting to click. Other days, it’s harder to be in that mindset. I second-guess everything. The way I’m building this business from scratch while also trying to be a good partner, a present friend, a person who still texts back. Add in a full-time job, a to-do list that keeps multiplying, and a body that doesn’t always cooperate—and it can feel like a lot.
There’s really no map for this season. No perfect plan to follow. Just a lot of showing up, trying things, adjusting, pivoting, and hoping it’s enough. My shoulder aches. I reheat my tea. I delete the same sentence five times before getting it right. I keep lists everywhere—half plans, half prayers. I feel behind. I feel proud. I feel exhausted. I feel excited. But I’m starting to believe that all of those things can be true at once.
Still, there’s a pulse under all of it. A quiet rhythm that says: keep going. Not because I have it all figured out, but because something in me still believes this is worth doing. Because even when I feel wobbly, I know I’m not lost—I’m just getting started. And because I’m called to keep creating, even when it’s messy. Even in the in-between.
So I do.