“Knocking Down Gates That Were Never Built for People Like Us”: A Conversation with SG Huerta by Bleah Patterson

SG Huerta just passed their one-year anniversary of working for Split Lip Magazine, where his poem, “trans poetica,” was published a few months before. I asked SG a few questions about their writing content and generation, writing process, and their time at an MFA program in central Texas. I was delighted by their candor, vulnerability, and humor. After working as a memoir reader, they are now a Social Media and Marketing Director for Split Lip. They bring passion for writing, for poetics, and for the human beings behind all of the words to their work for our social media.

Bleah Patterson: I have to know, first and foremost, what is your favorite thing to eat or drink while writing?  

SG Huerta: I should definitely drink more water, but I just drink a lot of coffee. And I don’t really eat anything while I write, but if I get hungry any snack from HEB is the best snack.

BP: Have you ever learned something about yourself—like a habit or obsession, pet peeve or compulsion—that you didn’t know you had before writing? If so, what was it?

SGH:  Something I noticed when writing my full-length poetry manuscript is that I write a lot about writing. I don’t know why I’m so compelled to that, but it’s something that I’ve started allowing myself to do more. I just ask myself, “Is it serving the poem? Or am I just doing this because it’s comfortable and safe?” Also it’s the realization that this is a poem, and it’s allowed to be one. I’m not doing anything wrong by acknowledging that.

BP: Do you think part of the hesitation to write about writing is because it detracts from your work? Or because someone told you that you shouldn’t do it?

SGH: I don’t think it detracts from the poem unless I’m using it as a crutch. If the poem needs to be acknowledged while writing it, then it just does. My thesis advisor during my MFA was really kind about it and brought it to my attention. It gave me the opportunity to stop and think, “Am I making the poem I want to make, the one that needs to be made, or am I just doing what other people want me to do?”

When it comes to writing about writing, some poems I can tell this is about XYZ and it’s not necessarily about writing. But other poems, I think it’s made more possible by bringing it up. I like straddling that line, and I’m kind of a language nerd, so I like writing about writing. And for me, Intention is the big thing, and part of my intention is that I don’t write just for other poets or people with MFAs or editors. I want my work to reach all kinds of people with all kinds of understanding about writing, so I think it’s okay if I talk about my process a little bit in the poem itself. But it’s also something to balance, like, is this poem about writing a poem too out there for when I do open mics here in town and stuff?

BP: What is something you’ve written that has frightened you a little bit once you’ve written it?

SGH: Okay this is where it gets heavy. I’m mostly a poet, even when I was kid, I loved Emily Dickinson and any poetry I could get my hands on. I wrote my first poem when I was fairly young. And in college, I was like “Oh, can I actually do this.” And then I had a really rough summer—content warning—halfway through college. My dad attempted suicide and was not successful, and it was really hard. I was working in the summer in an office on campus, and I would just read and write at the front desk and maybe answer the phone. One day, I was just sitting there and wrote this three-page poem, about what I would have done if my dad had died. And I think that was the first time I was scared of something I’d written, but also not just scared of the content but mostly of like, the poetry itself, because I was like “Oh shit this is real. Poetry is real.” And now, I’m working on a memoir-y thing and I’m starting to have the same feeling, like working in a new mode and realizing, “Oh this is real and I’m doing it.”

BP: As a member of the SLM staff, what does working in the literary world mean for you?

SGH: It’s the best thing ever. I love [working with Split Lip] so much. In my undergrad, I worked on the lit mag at my university, and there was just something about being able to champion someone’s work. Split Lip was one of the first mags I regularly read, and I love what they do. It’s also amazing because they make the possibility of getting published by a truly writer-centered magazine possible for anyone. I’d been submitting to Split Lip since 2018, even when I thought I had no business doing so. And that’s what I love about literary journals in general, anyone can submit to them. And Split Lip is great about offering frequent periods where it’s free to submit.

Getting [“trans poetica”] into Split Lip changed a lot for me. In 2022, I applied to be a memoir reader. And it’s incredible being on the other side of that, that someone I don’t know is able to move me. Especially in memoir, it’s such a special genre to me and it’s really hard to accomplish. Beyond getting words on to the page, which is a feat in itself, things like voice and form are also important, especially coming from a poetry background. What’s really special to me is when it’s a topic that we read a lot of pieces about, and we see that this author is the only person who could have written it like that.

Anyway, over the summer I was asked to be social media and marketing director with Rebecca Ackermann. It has been really scary, I’m not gonna lie. Like that’s 27,500 followers on the bird app. But I love it. I love finding a quote that I love for the piece, I love reading our issues several times over. It just means a lot to be a part of a collective that I think is doing really good work.

BP: I want to pivot a little bit to your MFA experience. How do you think being in a writing program, specifically your MFA, impacted your writing?

SGH: I think the most valuable thing you can get out of an MFA workshop across the board is knowing who your readers are. I don’t just necessarily mean “I’m writing for millennials who love emo music.” I mean, maybe I am. But [academia] is like the real world, some people are gonna meet me and say I don’t like you just based on what I am. So you have to decide whose feedback is valuable. Like, if someone isn’t gonna like something that’s neurodivergent, queer, or not white, then they’re not my audience. I just have to accept that and find the person who’s gonna get it.

Something that really helped during my MFA program, like helped with knowing that my work had an audience I just hadn’t found yet, was reading more queer writers of color. It helped me realize you can carve out your own spaces. I think I’m no longer interested in knocking down gates that were never built for people like us in the first place. Why would I want to be a part of their boring ass party when I could make my own or join another cool party?

Also, a quick shout out to those other cool parties like Abode Press, Split Lip of course, fifth wheel press, Honey Literary, Defunkt, Headmistress Press.

BP: In recent months, and the last year or two, I’ve been so impressed and excited to see your various successes, awards, publications, etc. Does it ever feel like it all happened very fast?

SGH: Well first off thank you, that’s very kind and validating to know. Writing is so solitary. So much of my writing life and editing life is sitting here and seeing the deer outside, my cats, my partner when they come home from work, and so sometimes it’s like “oh yeah, there’s people on the other end.” Even if it’s just like one person on the other end. I do think publishing has happened fast for me, like in the span of three years, which has been really incredible and very much due to my community showing up for me. But I don’t think that the work has been fast. Like I said, I’ve loved literature since I was a child, and I started taking my writing seriously when I was eighteen. So, relatively it’s a short amount of time, but it also just feels incremental until I look at the big picture, and I’m like, oh shit.

BP: Last question, what is the weirdest line you’ve written recently?

SGH: Oh, this is fun, this is from a prose poem I was working on about being bipolar:

“I can’t remember applying—I am the worst kind of nepo baby—”

SG Huerta is a queer Xicanx writer from Dallas. They are the author of two poetry chapbooks, The Things We Bring with Us (Headmistress Press) and Last Stop (Defunkt Magazine). Their work has appeared or is forthcoming in Houston City Hall, The Offing, Bodega Magazine, just femme & dandy, Infrarrealista Review, and elsewhere. They are a 2023 Roots Wounds Words Fellow and the poetry editor of Abode Press. They live in Texas with their partner and two cats. 

Bleah Patterson (she/her) is a southern, queer writer and was born and raised in Texas. She’s an MFA candidate at Sam Houston State University. Her various genres of work are featured or forthcoming in The Brazos River Review, Write or Die, The Texas Review, Across the Margins, Queerlings, Fifth Wheel Press, Beaver Magazine, and elsewhere.