We all wrestle with the same things: What gear do I really need? How do I find my style? How do I deal with self-doubt?

I’ve gathered some of the most common questions people ask me about photography, along with my honest and personal answers. I hope these bring you clarity, encouragement, and remind you that you’re not alone in your journey.

And remember, these are just my personal perspectives, shaped by my own experiences as a photographer. There isn’t one “right” way to approach photography. Take what feels helpful, try things out for yourself, and leave the rest. What matters most is finding what feels true and sustainable for you.

I never attended photography school; my journey began with pure enthusiasm and passion. The only education I had was a summer astrophotography workshop, where I realized how much I needed to learn. My early attempts to capture the Milky Way were underwhelming, with fuzzy stars and underexposed photos. Lacking formal training, I often felt that I was hiding, not fully expressing myself, and questioned whether I was "worthy" of the title of photographer. This even led me to hide my amateur camera in embarrassment. Imposter syndrome settled in and stayed.

I don’t think anyone seeking a linear, clearly defined career would choose a creative one. There’s no blueprint and no sure ending. There is no precise roadmap or set of steps. Those drawn to a creative path, I think, must possess a spirit of adventure. At the very least, they show a tolerance for discomfort and the uncontrollable. For photographers, this is especially true. On a clear, crisp December night in Vermont, I realized that photography was an integral part of my identity. My phone read -17 degrees. The sky, etched with stars, made its mark. The cold was sharp enough to shatter. My stinging cheeks and numb fingers fumbled with my basic camera, my eyes being the only part of me exposed.

I just returned to Maui after a quick visit home to Vermont—a much-needed break that helped me reset and recharge. The last few summer months have felt like a blur, with work on a new client shoot on Lanai and the busyness of life leaving little time to truly enjoy the season, despite the ocean being at my feet. Visiting home after eight years away in summer, I was reminded that Vermont’s summers are about simple joys—thunderstorms, fireflies, and the taste of garden tomatoes. These moments made me realize the importance of pausing to reconnect with the season’s energy.

We’ve all been there. You get home, so excited to check out your photos, certain there are a few gems on the card, only to upload them and feel that sinking feeling.

They just look…flat.
Dull.
Lackluster.

Maybe even boring?

It’s disappointing, especially when you felt the beauty in the moment. But I want to gently remind you: this happens to every photographer, and it isn’t so much as you doing something wrong, but maybe a misreading of the situation or poor circumstances that are out of your control. A flat photo isn’t a failure, it’s simply a clue.