Gregory Bourne's journey as a writer and creative advocate is deeply entrenched in his rich cultural heritage, with his formative years experienced as a Black man in Montreal amid wide social change. From the early days of being influenced by music legends such as Prince to the raising up of BIPOC voices through storytelling, Gregory resonates with his work of community, identity, and creative survival. In this interview, he elaborates on his creative processes, difficult past experiences, and his desire for others to find power through stories.
How did your upbringing shape your perspective on culture and identity?
My parents migrated from the Caribbean to Montreal in the late 60s and had me. I was born into a turbulent time. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated, and Black activism surged. I was the only Black kid in most of my classes. The few Black kids stuck together. Maybe they lived nearby. Basketball wasn’t on TV, and Black shows were rare. I grew up on pop and rock from the radio. “Much Music”. a television station that only played music videos, introduced dance and rap through music videos. That shaped how I saw the world. I learned about my culture later than most Black folks. I always felt like an outsider, but I experienced the pain with my culture.
Growing up surrounded by pop, rock, and emerging Black music on TV, which artists or moments most influenced your creative voice?
Without a doubt, Prince! His music never stayed the same. It was in constant flux. He didn’t give the audience what they expected. The man was fierce.
Like Prince, you’ve embraced creative risk—when did you first realize the power of storytelling, and how did it begin to shape your path?
Great question! As a teenager, I always wrote songs and short stories. I tried writing a book once, but gave up - it took too long. I read a lot growing up. I spent hours in a beautiful library near home, bringing back stacks of books. I was always paying late fees. Those stories took me where I wanted to go. That’s when I knew - this was it.
Was there a moment when writing shifted from a personal passion to something you felt called to pursue more seriously?
In 2019, I landed a part-time blog-writing gig for a non-profit while working full-time. I transitioned to writerpreneurship about three years ago. It’s been a journey ever since.
Whether it’s blogging, storytelling, or entrepreneurship, what do you think is the common thread that runs through all your creative work?
Great question! Helping marginalized communities ties it all together, with an emphasis on my community: Black and Indigenous people. My twins are half Indigenous.
ou’ve mentioned a strong connection to Black and Indigenous communities. What inspired your focus on helping BIPOC creatives tell their stories more powerfully?
The BIPOC community has a rich history of storytelling. Our creatives are phenomenal. They deserve to have their stories told. The world needs their stories.
As someone deeply invested in telling stories—both your own and others'—how do you find balance between personal writing and client work?
Client work always takes priority. No question.
You often talk about “creative survival.” What does that phrase mean to you, and why does it keep showing up in your work?
Without another income, creative work can be feast or famine for some artist.
How do your Substack, newsletter, and digital products support your mission and long-term creative goals?
My Substack, newsletter, and digital products help Black Gen Xers escape unfulfilling corporate jobs, start solopreneurship, and build a legacy - however they define it. It’s all about giving back to my community.
Looking back, what advice would you give your younger self about storytelling and embracing your identity?
Seek out our elders. Sit at their feet. Listen.
Gregory's story is one of resilience, having purpose, and the long journey to giving voice to those in underrepresented groups. From his writing, through mentoring, and use of digital mediums, he inspires Black and Indigenous creators to take hold of their narratives and build imperishable legacies. He reminds us how the tales of our elders and the power of storytelling can help illuminate the waters of identity and creative survival, lessons that bear weight far beyond his immediate experience.