Wonderful Women Interview with Comedian Serena Terry

 

Serena Terry is an Irish comedian and writer with an online audience of more than 4 million followers. She is the author of two Sunday Times bestselling fiction novels and became the first female comedian to sell out Belfast’s O2 Arena. She tours extensively throughout Ireland and the UK and is just about to resume the UK leg of her 2026 tour, Therapy.

Terry, who’s opened for Joanne McNally and been hailed as ‘Utterly hilarious’ by Aisling Bea has just finished writing her third book, Hormone Hostage, a non-fiction piece which is due to be published via Pan Macmillan in 2027. She is also developing a sitcom and is launching Danny’s, a new comedy club in her native city of Derry, as well as an exciting new YouTube comedy series, Barely Briefed in November. It’s a pleasure to interview her on the blog.

1. Describe a typical day for you.

Monday to Friday is fairly typical working-mum life. I’m up around 7am, feed the dog and cat, get the kids up and take them to school. Everyone gets fed and encouraged, apart from me.

Then it’s home to write, film or edit, with laundry shoved in between. I don’t have an office and my kitchen table is my desk. I’m currently on my laptop trying to develop a television script beside a pile of odd socks and a huge mass of LEGO that my son was building last night and I was too lazy to tidy up. It will probably stay where it is for another day or two.

After lunch, I take the dog for a walk, work for a few more hours, then it’s school pickup, dinner and more housework. I go to bed at a very sensible 10pm, which is admirable behaviour from a woman who has absolutely no intention of going to sleep. Instead, I scroll until I’ve learned something upsetting about the world and something completely unnecessary about a stranger’s kitchen.

Weekends involve more housework, dog walks and bribing my children to spend time with me outdoors. Yes, I’m at that glorious stage of parenting where ‘quality family time’  includes negotiating a fee or reward with my kids.

 

2. What do you feel are your greatest achievements?

My children. Clichéd, I know, but they’re two incredible young people, very different personalities but both funny, kind and emotionally intelligent. They’ve taught me so much about life, including how little I apparently know about makeup, YouTubers and brainrot.

We do each other’s heads in, obviously. I don’t want anyone picturing us around a campfire holding hands, but they talk to me about everything and I’m proud of who they’re becoming. I think we’re allowed to congratulate ourselves for not raising ar*******. There, I said it. Go us.

Professionally, becoming the first female comedian to sell out the O2 Arena in Belfast. It still doesn’t feel real. I was privately struggling with depression at the time, which made it difficult to take in what I’d achieved. Looking back, I’m proud of the show, but also of the woman who managed to get herself onto that stage and make people laugh.

 

3. What’s in your handbag or satchel?

I only really carry a handbag when I’m travelling for work or on the rare occasion I’m out with my girlfriends, so opening it usually feels kinda like an archaeological event.

There’s always an ungodly amount of old receipts, a deodorant, perfume, chewing gum, an emergency makeup bag and probably a chocolate wrapper I’ve returned to the bag as though I can submit it for tax purposes along with the receipts.

The emergency makeup bag is always optimistic. At no point has concealer resolved the emergency I was actually having but there’s still a chance it could save the day.

 

4. What are your ambitions in life?

To be okay and make sure my kids and family are okay. Which sounds like modest BS, I get it, but some weeks that’s a fairly ambitious plan.

My 30s were tough, I lost two of my brothers eight weeks apart, as well as one of my best friends and my Dad last year. I went through six months of depression which left me unable to work, I unwillingly joined the depths of perimenopause, got diagnosed with ADHD and my marriage ended, so, not only has all of that built character, it’s given me so much perspective. 

I turned 40 in march and I’m embracing it. F*** sweating the small stuff or seeking the ‘happiness’ that everyone else has, life is too damn short.

I want to feel comfortable in my own skin, provide for my children and still have an identity beyond being the person who knows where everyone’s chargers are.

Of course I have professional ambitions, but none of them mean much if I’m miserable or my children aren’t doing well. I want to enjoy the life I’m working so hard to build. Otherwise, I’ve just given myself a project to manage.

 

5. What do you wish you’d known at the start of your career that you now know?

That somebody not liking you doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. And that you don’t need to attend every argument you’re invited to in a comment section.

At the beginning, comments about my appearance or people saying, “she’s not funny” really affected me. Hundreds of thousands of people could be lovely, and I’d still spend the evening mentally preparing a comeback for one man with a car as his profile picture.

Seven years on, I’m much better at accepting that comedy, like all artforms, is subjective. Not everyone will find me funny. Fair enough. I don’t find everyone funny either, but I generally manage to get on with my day without notifying them.

Choosing a career that relies on strangers liking you while trying to stop caring what strangers think is an interesting arrangement to be honest. I’ve honestly accepted nothing less from myself.

 

6. Where do you see yourself in five years’ time?

Personally, continuing on that path to being more content, more confident in myself and hopefully still feral, but with hormones that have agreed not to send me nuts!

Professionally, I’d love to be successful in screenwriting. A BAFTA and an Emmy would be lovely. I’m trying to practise contentment first and foremost, but I’ve left room on the shelf for some of those shallow bonuses, I’m not a hippy.

 

7. What advice would you give a budding content creator and actor or comedian?

For anyone who shares their artform online or on stage, just make things you enjoy making. 

You’ll need that enjoyment to carry you through the days when something you’ve worked on for hours gets twelve views and a comment asking where your curtains are from.

Understand that you’re essentially subjecting yourself openly to the world for judgement, like a lamb to slaughter, which isn’t for the weak. When I say weak, I mean in any way insecure like I was and admittedly still am but not as much.

I started when my self-esteem was on the floor, so putting myself online was quite a bold choice and kind of felt like some form of masochism enhanced by mental illness to be honest. One bad comment could drown out thousands of lovely ones and really affect my confidence.

I could tell you not to take negative feedback personally, but you’re human, you will, but if this truly is your passion and you genuinely love to do it, in time you’ll realise that being disliked isn’t a personal failure or a professional emergency.

For theatre actors or comedians, there’s a deeper, real-life and real-time layer of thicker skin to prepare for. Sure, you can practice self-restraint and avoid reading online negativity but on stage, watching people comment with their facial expressions, you’ve no choice other than to stare straight down that barrel of judgement.

I’ve died on my ass many times at gigs. ‘Bombing’ as it’s known is a rite of passage for comedians and not something you should be afraid of. You’re always going to be crap at the start and no matter how established you are, new material is never going to be where it needs to be until you’ve trialled and tested it many, many times. 

Unfortunately that process includes standing in front of audiences who are not laughing at your jokes, but it’s all part of the process, will make your material better and ultimately make you a better comedian. Again, it’s definitely some form of masochism but it is great craic all the same. 

Keep creating, keep improving and try to judge your work by more than the response it gets. 

 

8. What advice would you give a first-time mother? 

Accept help. Ask for help. If someone offers to do your washing, don’t say, “Oh no, you’re grand.” Give them the basket before they reconsider.

You don’t have to prove you can do everything alone. Don’t be a silent hero. There’s no award at the end, just more washing.

Motherhood changes your life so much that your own needs can quietly disappear off the list. Try to pay attention to that. You’re still a person with interests, friendships and basic human requirements beyond finishing a cold cup of coffee.

If you have support from a partner or family, use it. Make time to do things that make you feel like yourself, and try not to spend that entire time feeling guilty.

Loving your child and wanting an hour when nobody touches you can co-exist and doesn’t make you a bad mother, in fact, you’ll be a happier one.

9. Finally, happiness is…

Being content with who I am and what I have, without comparing my everyday life to somebody else’s.

Knowing my kids are okay and that I still have my own identity, one that I like.

And, ideally, being hormonally regulated and void of pubic hair growing rapidly every day on my chin. 

 

You can follow comedy genuis, Serena on Instagram, Facebook and TikTok 

Catch her new stand-up tour show Therapy this October in Newcastle, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Liverpool, Leeds, London, Manchester, Bristol and Birmingham.

Photography credits:

Portrait shots: Terri Burton Photography.

Live shots: YControl Photography.