Born and bred in BedStuy, , Glynn Pogue was gripped by wanderlust and words at a tender age. Growing up she always knew she wanted to be a writer. She describes writing as being synonymous with her identity. As an only child who grew up in a Bed & Breakfast, she spent a lot of time alone writing “novels” in journals. She recounts how constantly meeting new people over the years helped her with character development. Did I mention that both her parents are writers too? Her mother was the former editor-in-chief of Essence and comes from a very traditional journalism background. And her father’s background is in film and screenwriting. I guess you can say writing is in her blood.
After finishing a 27-month stint in Cambodia as a Peace Corp volunteer, Pogue enrolled in the MFA in Creative Writing program at The New School. When we spoke she told me how getting her MFA was a major investment in her craft. It was the first time she steadily and hungrily put in the time and energy into developing as a writer. It was the first time she began to introduce herself as a writer. She uses writing as a means of introspection; a way to unpack and process the world around her.
Like many of us, Pogue is no stranger to the pressures society places on us, as well as the pressures that come from our family, friends and even ourselves. She wants her writing to not only be entertaining but also relatable. She says, “As an essayist, I’ll spin you a story that will entertain you and make you laugh, it’ll be juicy as hell, but it’ll also make you think.” Drawing a lot of her inspiration from her travels, people, foods and fashion, her collection includes personal essays, travel pieces and cultural critiques. In her words, “I tell stories from around the world, and around the way.”
You can peep some of her work in Vogue, Essence, Travel Noire, Guernica and, most recently, National Geographic Traveler. You can also catch Pogue (if you haven’t already) chopping it up with her girls on Black Girls Texting, a podcast she started with her bff’s Chelsie and Sade.
Photograph by Alex Revina
What draws you most to writing?
It’s really out of my control. It’s who I am, and what I do. I don’t just write, I’m a writer. It’s synonymous with my identity. Trust, I don’t know that I can confidently say that I would choose this life, because not only is it a scary space to occupy financially (that struggling artist shit is really not that cute), but writing is hard. It actually tortures my brain, sitting at my computer looking at a blank screen. It’s anxiety-inducing. But when I’m in a good flow, the work just pours out of me, and I think that’s evidence of that this gift is a divine one. When I have an amazing writing session, the feeling of euphoria it gives me is unmatched. I have to remind myself that every time I put off writing. I often say “I’m likely somewhere overthinking,” because I’m always in my head, almost to a fault. I’m curious about everything and am always seeking understanding. Writing helps me process it all, it’s a means to unpack. My friends always tease that “I’ll do anything for the story,” which is lowkey true to an extent. But also, the wildest shit happens to me, and the stories are just too good not to document. At the same time, I can also find intrigue in the banal, because I’m aware that every story, or experience, is nuanced; it’s informed by emotion, by the people who were there and what they brought with them, by society, by our culture. That’s fascinating to me. I’m interested in exploring those nuances to find a deeper meaning that will, hopefully, highlight something larger about our existence. As an essayist, I’ll spin you a story that will entertain you and make you laugh, it’ll be juicy as hell, but it’ll also make you think.
How would you describe your voice as a writer/storyteller?
On the surface, I write how I talk. My work is both wry and brash, it’s colorful and full of flavor. I don’t shy away from the slang or colloquialism that is so much a part of my speech. I think this helps my readers feel close to me, I want my work to feel intimate. As a result, my work is unflinchingly honest, I’m unashamed on the page. I want you to hear me when you read my work. Some of the best compliments I receive on my writing are “this sounds like you.” Below the surface, my work is peppered with influences from the deeper parts of my mind, the parts of me that have a deep appreciation for beauty and are analytical and thoughtful. I don’t get bogged down with superfluous language, but I’m not afraid to show my smarts, and I do love gorgeous sentences. I work to render rich and vivid prose with strong visuals and descriptive language.
With both of your parents being writers, how much of an influence did/do they have on you and your work?
My mom is the former editor-in-chief of Essence, and comes from a very traditional journalism background. She was my first editor, as far back as my little book reports in elementary school. She used to keep me up for hours, going over my work, line by line, being super intense about grammar and punctuation. It honestly used to blow mine. Looking back now, I think all that attention to detail and language really helped shape my writing, although I still put commas in the wrong places and probably use semicolons incorrectly. As I got older, I’d still send her every essay I wrote, and she’d take some stylistic liberties, as every good editor does. But at times, I felt like it compromised my voice and I found that when I sat down to write, I could “hear her in my pen.” As I’ve really grown into my own voice, I’ve been working to, sort of, divorce her voice from mine, because we do have quite different styles. Still, I appreciate that I have such a bomb ass editor at my disposal, she’s like my secret weapon, and she’s always down to drop everything and read everything I write. My dad and I might be a bit more stylistically aligned. His background is in film, so he’s accustomed to writing screenplays and also has a really good ear for dialogue. Our work shares a similar viscerality and we both are drawn to Brooklyn-based, character-driven stories. He thinks everything I write is golden, in that way that parents think their kids can do no wrong (meanwhile my mom is much more on the “um girl, you need to fix this,” wave). So rather than send him my work for feedback, he is my go-to for more conceptual conversations about art and writing. He always gives me bomb book recommendations.
Photograph by John Midgely
You mentioned that writing personal essays are a way for you to break free from the formulaic methods and structures you were taught to follow as a child. Can you speak more on that?
Yes. From a craft standpoint, writing work that is personal and all mine allows me to step away from being coy about my experiences, which I think women, especially Black women have been taught to do. On some respectability politics shit. But I am unabashed. Further, a lot of my work sets out to challenge these very defined boxes of Black identity that were fed to me via the media for much of my life. I spent so much of my adolescence feeling like I wasn’t something “enough.” I never knew where I fit. The many threads of my identity are sloppy and tangled and can’t be contained. Much of my work directly addresses these stereotypical depictions of Blackness, asserting that yes, I can be a “bougie Black girl,” at times, but I can also be a “nerd,” and a “hippie,” and enjoy “ratchet shit,” and, and, and.
Apart from being a teacher and writing freelance, you are a 1/3 of ‘Black Girls Texting’, a podcast you started with your bff’s Sade Parham and Chelsea Rojas. How has this outlet help you evolve as a writer?
Working on Black Girls Texting has been an amazing way to explore so many of my creative interests. I’m fortunate to work alongside two incredibly intelligent and thoughtful co-hosts, who are also loving and supportive friends. We have all fallen victim to these narrow depictions of Black womanhood. That’s actually where the podcast name is derived from, the act of “texting” is so every day and literal, it’s average and human, it’s something everyone does. Our podcast titles underscore the idea that Black women are, in fact, average and human and do things everyone else does, in addition to being “magic” and “excellent.” Our episodes tackle Black identity, as well as politics and pop culture, and very personal topics like romantic relationships, family, and the general fuckery of being a 20-something. I love that the diversity of our subjects, reflects the diversity of our identities. Talking to my friends is always an awesome way for me to explore what’s on my mind, so I love having that sounding board with my girls on BGT. We get into the nitty-gritty on every episode. So much of what we have discussed has challenged me and given me mad inspiration for future pieces.
Photograph by Lauren Riley
‘Black Girls Texting’ hosts a monthly event at DUMBO House, where you feature “dope, black chicks!” Black women that are BOSSES in a variety of industries! Can you tell us the inspiration behind this series? What are some upcoming events?
There’s a panel every damn night in New York City, I swear. But I think the interest in these types of events is stemmed from a general need for people to connect IRL. Black Girls Texting takes conversations from our group chat and explores them on a podcast, all of that exists in the digital space. Our event series allows us to create space for Black women to connect in a tactile way. The vibe is always relaxed and open, we sip dranks, we encourage the audience to get engaged. We want it to be one big ass kiki. Inviting dope Black women to join us allows us to further our conversations because they can offer their expertise. Oftentimes, the women we meet with are a bit older than us, which helps to foster intergenerational conversations, which we think is crucial. It’s also so encouraging to learn about all of their successes. It’s always major goals. In April, we’ll be sitting down with Dr. Jess, a Black woman therapist who, in addition to practicing, hosts amazing live therapy sessions with culture-makers like Charlamagne and ASAP Ferg. We’re really excited to talk to her in an open forum, especially because people are finally starting to talk about mental wellness in the Black community, although we still have a long way to go. And that’s only the beginning. The summer for Black Girls Texting is about to get brazy. We have so much in store, just wait on it!
What do you have planned for 2019?
Oohhh, girl. The essential question. Nothing in my life has ever really gone as planned, but it’s always been for the better. Life keeps surprising me with really cool and unexpected opportunities and paths. 2019 already started off with a fucking bang, and I know people say it all the time, but I’m really sure that this is MY YEAR. Just before the New Year, I had some friends come over to make vision boards, and so much of what I put on my board has already manifested because I took the time to be deliberate with my visions. So, while I’m over here being all hippy dippy, like “I’ll take whatever comes,” I am still being as intentional as I can. I plan to keep writing widely, I have some dream publications in mind and I’m confident I will get bylines in them. Black Girls Texting will keep growing. I plan to make a lot of progress with my book project, and really establish myself as a trusted voice and authority, but also someone who writes great work that people want to read. I’m going to travel even more, but hopefully save some money too. And lord help me, I plan to find some downtime and peace of mind through it all, because ya girl be running herself ragged sometimes.
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Interview by Rahel Tekle