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The Heroine’s Journey of Oana Martisca

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What is the best thing that I love about my work?

For me, the best relationships begin in sync. It’s like jazz—the music I grew up with—or a perfectly timed baseball double play: scoop, second, first, and out. Rhythm. That’s what I love about filmmaking—the rhythm between urgency and empathy, the pulse where truth refuses to be simplified.

What is my idea of happiness?

Happiness, for me, is finding poetry in the chaos. While many dwell on the heaviness of the human condition, I choose to celebrate it. Like Fellini, I revel in life’s spectacle—in parades, clowns, birthdays, and all the glorious mess in between. My joy lives in creation, in the act of turning stories into gatherings. I don’t just make a film; I throw one—alive, imperfect, human.

Happiness is listening to the stories that whisper instead of shout—the overlooked and misunderstood voices that remind us of who we are, and how deeply we’re all connected.

What is my greatest fear?

My biggest fear? To bore people. The greatest sin in life is indifference. Beware of the boring.

What is the trait that I most deplore in myself?

I can be impatient with processes that feel necessary but slow down the work I care about most — especially the deeper, quieter parts of storytelling.

Which living persons in my profession do I most admire?

I admire storytellers who balance poetic vision with unflinching journalistic rigor — people who dare to ask hard questions and hold space for nuance without compromise. People like Joan Didion and Maggie Steber, who see the world with both precision and grace, turning truth into something deeply human and enduring.

What is the thing that I dislike the most in my work?

The industry’s tendency to privilege spectacle over substance — to chase metrics rather than meaning, especially when real human lives hang in the balance.

When and where was I the happiest, in my work?

I’ve been happiest in those quiet, charged moments — whether in pre-production, when an idea first begins to take shape, or later in the edit room, surrounded by fragments of footage and silence. Both are acts of creation: shaping something that doesn’t yet exist, or discovering the story hidden within what’s already been lived. That’s where the magic is — when the work stops belonging only to me and starts belonging to the world.

If I could, what would I change about myself?

I’d be kinder to myself in the gaps between who I am and who I’m becoming — less self-criticism, more self-grace.

What is my greatest achievement in work?

Realizing News Without a Newsroom as a feature documentary, premiering at the Miami Film Festival and worldwide, resonating with audiences, festivals, and institutions — not because of awards, but because it started conversations about why local journalism matters. 

Official trailer: https://youtu.be/0XlwrCjfoYk 

Official website: https://newswithoutanewsroom.com

Where would I most like to live?

Somewhere that holds both nature space and cultural crossroads — a city with movement, history, and people whose stories ripple outward.

What is my most treasured possession?

My notebooks and vintage cameras— because they are where observation became meaning, and meaning became story.

What is my most marked characteristic?

Relentless curiosity — not just about people’s stories, but how they tell them, why they matter, and what we miss when we look too fast.

What is my most inspirational location, in my city?

Anywhere sunlit late-afternoon meets open horizon — a place that invites reflection and stillness amid motion.

What is my favorite place to eat and drink, in my city?

I gravitate toward places that feel like belonging — where the stories in the room are as rich as the food, and the conversations are honest. In Miami, that place is Lagniappe — because nothing pairs better with good wine and live jazz than a night that feels unscripted and alive.

What books influenced my life and how?

I’m drawn to books that treat the world as a living, breathing mosaic — where observation is as vital as rhetoric. Writers like Ryszard Kapuściński and Pico Iyer have reshaped the way I see narrative and human texture. Works like Travels with Herodotus, or Iyer’s The Art of Stillness and The Open Road, remind me that journalism, at its best, is also an act of wonder — a way of listening to the world as much as interpreting it.

I also return often to Joan Didion’s Year of Magical Thinking and Slouching Towards Bethlehem, and to Italo Calvino’s Invisible Cities — books that find rhythm in observation and meaning in the in-between. They remind me that storytelling is less about conclusions and more about presence — about seeing the world clearly, and feeling it deeply.

You Only Die Once. What music would I listen to on my last day?

It would end with Patti Smith’s Because the Night — not as an anthem, but as a benediction. A song about desire, surrender, and the electricity of being alive. Earlier in the day, Thelonious Monk’s ’Round Midnight and Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue would set the tempo, letting reflection slowly give way to release. And somewhere in between, Patti Smith’s Gloria — raw, defiant, devotional — a reminder that living is both an act of faith and rebellion. Music that doesn’t explain life, but inhabits it, right up to the final note.

Who is my hero or heroine in fiction?

Anna Karenina. For her ferocity of feeling and the cost of living truthfully in a world that fears it. She refuses to dilute her inner life to fit the expectations around her, choosing emotional honesty even when it demands everything. Anna embodies the danger and the beauty of feeling too much — a reminder that authenticity is often punished, especially in societies that mistake control for virtue. Her tragedy isn’t her passion, but the world’s inability to hold it.

Who are my heroes and heroines in real life?

People who persist in truth-telling — journalists, cultural historians, and community storytellers who hold witness without spectacle. I admire the risk-takers and bold underdogs who choose integrity over safety, who ask difficult questions when silence would be easier, and who stay present with complexity rather than flattening it for applause. Their courage isn’t loud; it’s sustained. They show up, again and again, committed to truth even when it costs them.

Which movie would I recommend to see once in a lifetime?

A film that doesn’t just impress, but transforms — one that teaches you to watch differently, listen more deeply, and feel more compassion. Agnès Varda’s The Gleaners and I does this through attention and tenderness, while Andrei Tarkovsky’s Stalker does it through patience and faith. Together, they remind us that cinema can be a moral and spiritual experience — not about answers, but about how we learn to see.

What role do stories play in my life and work?

Stories aren’t just craft — they are the reason I wake up. They are how we love, remember, mourn, imagine, resist, and connect.

What do the words “You are the storyteller of your own life” mean to me?

They mean agency without illusion — that we choose how we frame our experiences, what we preserve from them, and how generously we share that with others.

Who is my greatest fan, sponsor, partner in crime?

My partner in crime: Lance Walker — lover, editor, director, fellow filmmaker. The one who sees the world in layers challenges me to go deeper and stands beside me in the mess and the magic of making things honestly. Together, we choose curiosity over comfort and truth over hype, showing up for the work with equal parts devotion and defiance.

Which people or companies would I like to work with?

Trustworthy people, first and always — collaborators who value integrity, curiosity, and long-term vision. Institutions where bold storytelling and artistic risk are supported, and where truth is treated with care rather than spectacle.

What project am I looking forward to work on?

Emerging projects that expand the dialogue between journalism and lived experience — films that bridge civic urgency with human intimacy.

Where can you see me or my work?

At film festivals, in classrooms, and within civic conversations — and on screens where curiosity is currency.

What do the words “Passion Never Retires” mean to me?

Passion is the force that comes before everything else — the drive that fuels the dream long before there’s a finish line. It’s not something you outgrow or put away; it’s something you return to, again and again. Passion lives in the impulse to begin: the morning you open the notebook, the question you can’t stop asking, the story that won’t leave you alone.

It’s the energy behind every choice — honoring the long take, sitting with uncertainty, choosing integrity over ease. Passion never retires because the desire to create, to understand, to tell the truth doesn’t fade with time. It sharpens. It becomes the engine that keeps you moving forward, even when no one is watching, even when the work asks everything of you.

Which creative professionals should Peter invite to tell their story? 

Rechna Varma, my professor and producer friend. 

How can you contact me?Through my website at 8finite.com, or via my professional platforms on LinkedIn and Instagram (@8finite_stories). I’m always open to thoughtful collaborations and conversations rooted in curiosity and integrity.

The Heroine’s Journey Coaching – by Peter de Kuster
Because every story you read can spark your own.

You’ve just read the story of a creative woman who followed her passion and shaped her own path. Maybe something in her journey resonated with you — a moment of courage, a turning point, or a dream you recognize. The Heroine’s Journey coaching invites you to explore your own story — not as fiction, but as a life you’re ready to shape.

Over the past ten years, more than 3,000 creative female professionals have shared their journeys with Peter de Kuster. Their stories form a living library of creative wisdom — stories about risk, renewal, and joy in meaningful work. Now, their inspiration can help illuminate your next step.

Why – Because Inspiration is Just the Beginning

Reading someone else’s story can awaken deep curiosity: What if I dared to do the same? What would my next chapter look like? The Heroine’s Journey coaching helps you answer those questions by turning reflection into direction. It’s designed to give you clarity, courage, and momentum on your creative path.

How – Story as a Path to Action

You’ll work with Peter de Kuster in three weekly, one-hour sessions — an intimate and practical program focused on your own story. Between sessions, you’ll spend 2–3 hours exploring exercises, reflections, and “testdrives” — real-life experiments that give you a taste of what your dream work could feel like.

Each session helps you uncover:

  • Your personal story as a creative professional.
  • The deeper themes shaping your work and life choices.
  • Concrete next steps for moving toward what truly matters to you.

What You Receive – The Heroine’s Testdrive Package

  • Three one-hour coaching sessions: €595 (excluding VAT)
  • Opportunity to have your own story published on The Heroine’s Journey website — free publicity and visibility for your creative work.
  • 40% discount on Heroine’s Journey seminars.
  • Opportunity to interview one creative professional who inspires you — your testdrive in your dreamjob . This personal encounter lets you learn from a real role model who does what you love — bridging the gap between imagination and reality.

Book a free 30-minute conversation with Peter de Kuster to explore if The Heroine’s Journey coaching is right for you.

📩 peterdekuster2023@gmail.com

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