How old is glynn washington

I sent it in and forgot about it. A few months later, I got a call telling me I was one of ten finalists nationwide. I thought it was my buddy, Mark, playing a joke on me. I hung up the phone and went back to eating my Chinese food.

You wanna do this or not? At the end of that, there were three finalists left and they asked us each to make a pilot, which I did.

Mark helped me make it on GarageBand on my jankety little computer. We worked crazy-hard for a week, did the work, and sent it in. I was proud. That was my welcome to public media.

I had no idea what he meant because I had done the best I could. In an act of amazing professional generosity, Holly Kernan, who I had met a week prior, listened to my pilot and said I was a good storyteller, but a crappy radio producer. She gave me some minute-by-minute notes. To make ourselves feel better, Mark and I went through and responded to her notes to correct the sound as best we could, and sent it back in. About three or four months later, I got another call to go to DC and pitch a project.

To make a very long story short, that was the birth of Snap Judgment. You applied on a whim and followed the story to the end.

Let me say this: I had applied for a short film contest, a composition contest for music, and writing contests. The deal was that I wanted to be creative full-time, so I threw a bunch of darts at the board.

This was the one that took off. I thought I was a good storyteller, in whatever context that might take, but radio? I also know that it is almost impossible to hate someone once you know their story. I love that. I see you where you are now and can look backwards and see how the pieces lined up. Even if you have a master plan, there are so many variables that can change.

Along those same lines, I was interviewed a while ago by some paper or magazine in LA. They congratulated me on my overnight success.

Every single step was hard. Okay, we won the contest, but now what? Then we had to convince stations to play us and no one wanted to. It felt like we were pushing uphill to get this show heard. I can thank an amazing talent pool of people who put their heart and soul into helping this thing launch.

That overnight success nonsense—even now, the landscape for media is changing every three to six months. But I will be forever grateful because my job was to go into organizations and find out how their businesses were structured and then supposedly give them some advice. I was terrible at that, but as an artist, I cannot say enough about how much that experience helped me to have a basic understanding of the building blocks of a successful business, what cash flow means, and what all those numbers are for.

A lot of us hate numbers and recoil from them. As creative people, we want someone else to take care of the business so we can just create.

But no one cares about the work like you do and no one can communicate the heart of your show like you can. I wanna be on stage, I want to make the music, but sometimes I gotta get that Excel spreadsheet out.

Yep, you do. When my partner, Mark, and I sat down and asked what our goal was for starting Snap , our goal was to pay the rent as working artists.

You kicked off in Snap Judgment is storytelling with a beat. We try to create movies of the mind, cinemas of sound. We utilize every aspect of soundscaping to create an immersive experience that drops listeners into the heart of the story. How has the show evolved since it began in , which was really early on for podcasts? And also talk to me about the struggles that you alluded to earlier. We won the contest and the Corporation for Public Broadcasting invested in that first year, which was awesome.

I asked them to distribute Snap and they all said no. I had to rethink it. I called all of the distributors back up and told them the other ones were interested and on the other line, so I need a decision by the end of the day. Thankfully, NPR went for it. That was great. For a better experience, we recommend that you enable JavaScript. Glynn Washington.

Glynn Washington appears in the following:. I took several deep breaths. Waited a few moments. Then I called him. I should have told you, but. See, our church, the church we both grew up in and laughed at together, that church preached against interracial marriage.

My family, my happy, brown, blonde, ridiculous, green-eyed, noisy, beautiful, Motown-singing, sauerkraut-eating, mixed race union — the very thing of which I am most proud. For which I would lay down my life. Viewed though a certain lens, seen though certain eyes, could be an embarrassment. An abomination. He continued. I stewed in that gloom for weeks before doing what I normally do.

I sat down to write. But nothing came. Blank screen. I was scared. Because if I did look honestly, what if my childhood, my young adulthood, my history Finally, after days of staring at blank pages, I turned everything off. The phone. The TV. The internets.

Put headphones over my earphones. I leaned into the silence and waited. And the quiet told me, you are so lucky. Look at your wife.