Toronto-based author Emily Pohl-Weary is unabashedly a lover of all things pop culture; whether she’s musing about the feminist significance of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and other bombshell female action heroes in her anthology Girls Who Bite Back: Witches, Mutants, Slayers and Freaks–a collection of fiction, essays and cartoons from 34 contributors–or forming a conga line of arts and culture with her ’zine Kiss Machine (a foray into independent art, literary culture, and political views), she just can’t get enough.

After years of non-fiction works on fiction, it only seemed logical that she’d write her own novel. Her first, A Girl Like Sugar is the coming-of-age story of Sugar Jones. After her rock star boyfriend Marco dies, Sugar is stuck in a rut, spending her nights watching Parker Posey movies and talking to Marco’s ghost before she lifts herself up and becomes her own woman. Michael Turner, author of Hard Core Logo, has called the book "like an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer directed by John Waters."

"I want to marry that quote," enthuses Pohl-Weary. Even as she gears up to promote Sugar, she’s already set her sights on writing a mystery novel, releasing a four-part comic book series on two girl pirates, and researching a non-fiction book about the disposable nature of art.

What was the big inspiration for writing A Girl Like Sugar?

The story of Sugar Jones parallels the story of many girls at around the age of 22. A lot of girls have to figure out who they are. In the case of Sugar Jones, she defines herself in part by the people around her, and so for the first time she’s gotta stand back and think about who she really is and what she wants to do with herself. I think that’s a common path that most of us have to take. So, the character of the ghost in some ways signifies fear and the expectations that other people have.

Describe the impact that pop culture has had on your life.

It’s interesting because I grew up reading a lot of genre fiction. My grandparents were both science fiction writers. I escaped into genre fiction, pop culture, things that are considered fluff, not literary epic downers. [Laughs] It allows you as a writer to not be as self-conscious and to not be as stilted. When you have the pressure to create something like a literary opus or a defining Canadian novel, what comes out is a lot different than if you’re simply enjoying the process of writing.

Is there such a thing as too much escapism?

Yes, I think particularly at the beginning of the book. As you read the book you’ll see that [Sugar] becomes less and less focused on watching TV. It’s almost like a sedative for her. I definitely get that feeling sometimes when I’m watching TV, and I just get sucked in. Suddenly it’s four hours later, and I’m like, ‘Oh wow, I really didn’t want to do that work tonight!’ I think that escapist TV, movies, and even songs in some cases... it can just take us out of where we are. We all need that sometimes, but on the other hand, it can also be a crutch.

What would you say A Girl Like Sugar represents about modern women in long-term relationships?

I don’t think that the whole romantic myth that a lot of women read in romance novels or even romantic comedies is real. You’re not gonna be suddenly dumbstruck by one guy and only one guy alone, and your whole world will revolve around him. I think that what Sugar is showing is that the most important thing is that you have to stand on your own two feet and at that point you can be part of a couple.

Sugar—at least when Marco was still alive—seemed to be living through him.

Yeah and also through her mother, who is a really strong, crazy, wonderful character. Basically the idea is the people around her are all reacting and are all defending their fate, whereas she is just kind of watching and she becomes much more than that by the end of the book. I wanted it to be realistic; I didn’t want her to go from this caricature of a slacker to the ultimate over-achiever. But, I did want to show that that progress is doable. No matter what age you’re at and no matter where you are in life, if you decide that you really like something then it’s possible to achieve that.

The scene where Sugar and the ghost of Marco have sex… that’s gotta be the hottest ghost-human sex scene ever written!

[Laughs] I don’t think I quite pull it off, but I’m really fascinated by writers who explore the grotesque, the ugly side of us. The dirty side of us. Sometimes I feel myself as I’m writing, shying away from it. I tried not to in this novel. I really wanted to make it visceral and have some ugliness in there without having the writer overwhelmed with it. It’s in all of us. It’s not like we’re pretty, clean, creatures all the time.

Your grandparents were both sci-fi authors; what impact did they have on your writing?

Their writing was always accessible. It was always something created for the enjoyment of a large amount of people, not to impress an elite few. I definitely feel that my own writing style has been influenced by that. Not only my writing style, but the kinds of books I love, the kinds of books that I can lose myself in. Sugar loses herself in TV or movies. I can lose myself in books. They’re always ones that don’t make me feel dumb or make me have to grasp much for why a person is writing in a particular way. I think it’s like an anti-intellectualism sort of thing. That’s a bit extreme, but I definitely feel there is a lot of value to write simply and cleanly and in a way that includes a lot of people.

Since this is your first proper novel, how does the experience of writing fiction compare to all your other endeavours in writing?

It’s completely nerve wracking because I think... why in the world would anyone want to read a book that’s simply being pulled out of my head? [Laughs] With non-fiction, it’s like, okay sure, it’s my spin but it’s actually about something that’s real. Whereas A Girl Like Sugar is entirely made up. It’s this weird mish mash of things I experienced, things that other people have experienced, things that I think would be funny to experience, twisted versions of reality and what I’m basically assuming a reader is willing to put however many hours to read 320 pages of experiencing my world. That’s pretty nerve-wracking.