Field Notes: Sherry's Story

This one started in a hostel in Bucharest.

2017. I was travelling solo around the Balkans. So was she. And we were just slightly lost twenty-something, figuring things out far from home.

Fast forward a few years, a few countries, and more than a few identity crises—and somehow we’re still in each other’s lives. Still checking in. Still cheering each other on. Still asking the big scary questions about creativity, worth, and what it means to put your work into the world.

So I asked Sherry to hop on the mic.

What I love most about Sherry’s journey is that she never let the fear of not being ready stop her from starting. She took her writing, her identity, and her voice - turned them into something people could relate to. That took guts. Vulnerability. And a whole lot of unlearning (plus therapy, obviously).

We talk a lot about imposter syndrome—how it creeps in quietly and tells you to play it small. But also about what happens when you choose to show up anyway. Not with polished and trained confidence, but with the kind of shaky vulnerability that says: I’m here, and I’m trying.

It got me thinking a lot about taking space. Not the outer-space kind, but the kind you take up when you say, This is mine—I made it. As a creative, it’s easier to hype someone else’s work, or hide behind strategy and production, or even behind the computer. It feels safer. Less exposed.

But a mentor once told me: no one’s going to amplify your work except you. And I’m learning there’s real courage in that. In choosing not to shrink when someone compliments you. In pressing ‘publish’ even when your voice trembles. In being proud—without apologising for it.

That’s what I saw in Sherry’s journey. Maybe that’s why this episode stuck with me so much. It reminded me that creative confidence doesn’t just get plugged into your brain when you wake up one fine morning. You build it. Post by post. Line by line. Frame by frame.

When rejection comes? That’s okay too. You’re still allowed to take up space. Rejection is redirection, is what I always tell myself. The next opportunity is going to be more aligned with my purpose and/or I can learn from this rejection

Because the work? It matters.
Because you matter.
Because saying “I made this” is a kind of quiet rebellion in a world that tells you to be smaller.

This chat reminded me that growth doesn’t always look like a big, glossy win. Sometimes, it’s just choosing to be loud about the things you’ve poured your heart into.

📝What would I create if I weren’t afraid of rejection or judgment?

Until the next stop,
keep holding space for the journey,

Al

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So here’s to hostel friendships that accidentally last a lifetime.
To creatives making space in the industry (and in ourselves).
And to putting our stories on screen—even when our voices shake.

🎧 If you’re in for real talk, creative chat, and fast-paced honesty about what it really means to create something that scares you.

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And if you loved it, pass it on to someone who needs the reminder that your voice matters—even when it feels too small, too soft, or too late.