Today we’d like to introduce you to Mandy Shunnarah
Hi Mandy, thanks for sharing your story with us. To start, maybe you can tell our readers some of your backstory.
I’ve known I wanted to be a professional writer since I was five years old. I distinctly remember being in my kindergarten class when the teacher gave us the big, chunky graphite pencils with the triangle grip to help us learn how to hold the pencil properly. At some point, I realized the connection that I was writing letters, letters formed words, words formed sentences, and sentences were in all those books I loved so much, and it suddenly occurred to me that I could write my own words and, one day, my own books. The epiphany was so powerful to my five-year-old self that I cracked my pencil open on the table and ate the graphite in a state of mania.
This probably sounds nuts to anyone who doesn’t have kids or spend much time around them, but it made perfect sense to me at the time. With the benefit of hindsight, I like to re-imagine that moment with the (blessedly non-toxic) graphite coursing through my veins and particles lodging themselves throughout my body, cementing my fate to become a writer. I’m a child of the 90s, so I liken the experience to how Sailor Moon must have felt with every transformation that ignited her celestial powers.
I read and wrote constantly growing up, even to the point of getting in trouble at school for hiding my non-school, fun books inside my textbooks so I could read in every class but English. In college, I majored in English with a focus on creative writing, which was also when I discovered my love of journalism. Because there are no job classifieds saying “FUTURE BEST-SELLING NOVELISTS WANTED,” journalism was how I first made money writing.
I was devastated when I didn’t get into any of the MFA programs I applied to at 23. I only applied for one cycle, though I later learned that many MFA candidates have to apply for multiple application cycles before they’re admitted because the programs are so competitive. I reasoned that instead of applying again, I should keep doing journalism while honing my craft on the creative side. I joined a writing group called See Jane Write and took every in-person and online workshop I could through libraries, writing nonprofits, conferences, and more. Being able to self-direct my learning and write whatever I wanted across poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, and journalism was more beneficial than a program where I might have been shoehorned into a single genre and given constant deadlines that would have given me anxiety.
I’m 34 now and a full-time writer. My first book, a blended genre memoir/cultural history/travelogue called Midwest Shreds: Skating Through America’s Heartland, was released in July 2024 from the Belt imprint of Arcadia Publishing. My second book, a poetry collection about my Palestinian heritage, love, nature, and family called We Had Mansions, will be published by Diode Editions in 2025. I’ve won awards, grants, and residencies from the Sundress Academy for the Arts (SAFTA), the Ohio Arts Council, the Columbus Arts Council, Gazala Projects, and Porter House Review. I’ve been published in a wide range of publications from The New York Times and Business Insider to Electric Literature and The Rumpus, and more in between. I’m currently working on my next nonfiction book, as well as my next poetry collection.
I feel gratitude beyond words that this is my life. Getting to do what you love every day is an immense privilege.
I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
Becoming––and staying––a full-time writer is never a smooth road. I talked a little about my MFA conundrum, but in truth, not getting into one of those programs was a gift in disguise because it forced me to develop the self-discipline and persistence needed to survive in this industry where rejection is more common than not, even for the best, most popular writers. While there’s nothing wrong with getting an MFA in creative writing, I feel that my not getting one forced me to learn as many aspects of publishing as possible and approach my craft from a business sense instead of just accepting no or low pay for my creative work, or assuming I could rely on my degree to get me where I needed to go.
Then, on top of that, there are the systemic, industry-wide and larger cultural issues that make writing a challenging career.
Not only is writing a competitive field regardless of the particular genre(s) you work in, but it’s a field that is being devalued before our eyes. Billionaire tech conglomerates are intent on pushing Earth-killing AI, which not only steals the words of writers who did not consent to their work being used for machine learning and were never compensated, but also uses so much energy that hundreds of thousands of gallons of water are needed to keep the machines from overheating.
There are also rampant book bans which, contrary to popular belief, do not positively boost authors’ careers the vast majority of the time. Not to mention how public schools are so beholden to standardized testing that kids are graduating high school without reading an entire book––just short passages they’re meant to analyze. I don’t believe that’s an environment meant to foster an actual love of reading.
Furthermore, the largest publishers that have the widest marketing reach are increasingly focusing on celebrity books because those people already come with a built-in platform of fans ready to buy their book, regardless of what it’s about. That doesn’t leave much room for the rest of us.
Not to be all doom and gloom, but I’d rather tell the truth about the writing life than perpetuate this false idea of the glamorous recluse writing in the attic without a care in the world. I love writing wholeheartedly, and I know that even with this career’s challenges, I’d be miserable and depressed doing much of anything else. Whatever your art is, you’re meant to do it if that’s how you feel about it. If that’s not how you feel, you can’t force it. I’ve known writers more naturally talented than me, more educated than me, and with more resources and access than me, yet I’ve watched them give up writing because they weren’t as dedicated. The artist’s life rewards dedication and persistence, even if it takes decades.
Thanks – so what else should our readers know about your work and what you’re currently focused on?
I write poetry, creative nonfiction essays, journalism, and fiction. These days, that’s the order I prioritize the genres I work in, though, in my professional life, I’ve been writing journalism the longest, followed by creative nonfiction, poetry, and fiction. Interestingly, my poetry is what I’m best known for and have received the most honors for, including awards, grants, and writing residencies, despite only dedicating myself seriously to the practice since 2021.
My poetry has garnered more attention since October 2023 because I’m Palestinian and write about my family and my people, both as a response to and in defiance of the genocide Israel has been committing against us since 1948, and that has severely intensified over the past 14 months. I believe it’s hard to hate people when you know their stories, so I’m using the gifts I was afforded to speak up for Palestine. I first started writing professionally in 2009, which is around the time I became an activist, so it makes sense to me to merge these worlds I’m passionate about. While not everything I write is political or identity-based, I would be doing myself and my people a disservice not to use my writing to advocate for our human rights and inherent human dignity.
Naturally, I’m honored, exhilarated, and humbled every time I receive an honor for my work, but what I’m most proud of can’t be so easily quantified. Recently, a good friend, Nathan McDowell, who’s an anti-Zionist Jew, and I organized a poetry reading bringing together Palestinians, Syrians, Lebanese, Muslim, and anti-Zionist Jewish poets. The reading was at Two Dollar Radio Headquarters in Columbus, Ohio, the week after the presidential election in which Trump was reelected in part because the Biden/Harris administration refused to end the genocide by cutting off weapon shipments and billions of dollars in aid to Israel. The bookstore was PACKED, and I’ve never seen so many people crying at a poetry reading. We raised several hundred dollars for the Sameer Project, which provides critical aid in Gaza, and the Central Ohio chapter of Jewish Voice for Peace.
So many writers use their voices and platforms for good, and I’m proud to stand on the shoulders of those literary giants.
Alright, so to wrap up, is there anything else you’d like to share with us?
People often ask me for writing advice, so I’d love to share some.
Besides being an asshole, which I’m using here as an umbrella term for all the terrible -isms and -phobes (racism, sexism, transphobia, Islamaphobia, etc.), I think the worst thing a writer can be is world-weary. One of our most underrated survival tactics and artistic practices is finding wonder and awe in the everyday. Cultivate a sense of curiosity because if you don’t, you’ll not only be a boring person, but anything you write will fall flat in its jaded commonality. When you commit yourself to this seemingly simple practice, you’ll learn quickly that critique is easy; creation is hard.
I also want to encourage writers to lift each other up. What’s meant for you will always be yours; no one can take that from you. I think some people hesitate to help their “competition” out of fear that person will become more successful and surpass them. If that happens, rejoice! Because that person will likely return the favor. I’ve lost count of the number of opportunities that have come my way thanks to other people speaking my name in rooms I’m not in. To pay it forward, I try to do the same for these folks and others.
And even if the person you lift up doesn’t become more successful than you and bring you with them, you can rest easier knowing your name is being spoken with kindness. That counts for something. While not necessarily quantifiable, that support matters in a creative career. No one will understand you quite like your fellow artists and writers, so water the garden of those relationships, or you’ll find yourself lonely and likely uninspired.
Likewise, I encourage writers to avoid taking rejection to heart, even when it comes from people who should, in theory, support you and care about you. In 2021, when I first started taking my poetry seriously, someone who was then one of my best friends read a handful of my poems and said, “Mandy, you’re just not a poet. Focus on what you’re actually good at.” No constructive criticism or ideas on how to make the poems better. Now, three years later, I’ve heard their voice in my head dozens of times as I’ve gotten a new poem published, as I won the 2024 Editor’s Prize in Poetry at Porter House Review, as I received an Individual Excellence Award for Poetry from the Ohio Arts Council, as I got the grant and residency from Sundress Academy for the Arts, when I got my poetry book deal, and more. And each time I recall that disheartening conversation, I’m thankful I trusted my gut and kept going despite their attempt to discourage me. Now, I laugh every time I think about that day.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://mandyshunnarah.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/offthebeatenshelf/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/offthebeatenshelf/
- Twitter: https://twitter.com/fixedbaroque
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MandyShunnarah
- Other: https://www.arcadiapublishing.com/products/9781953368713/
