"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." - Benjamin Franklin
About the Author
When Shanna P. Lowe was a little girl, she used to collect her mother's seed magazines and copy them word from word into a composition journal. This was an early and naive attempt at her childhood dream--an author.
By the time Shanna reached middle school, she began writing novel-length works. In high school, she published her first short story. Now Shanna is an award-winning writer with a BA in English Writing and several published short stories, articles, and poetry.
In September 2022, Shanna P. Lowe fulfilled her childhood dream by publishing her first book, Candy Sky Tells A Lie. She then launched her Get Kids Writing! campaign in December 2022.
Shanna P. Lowe lives in the Pacific Northwest but grew up in Colorado. When she is not writing, Shanna is homeschooling her son and chasing around her clowder of cats.
"Café au Fromage"
1st Place Winner of the 24 Hour Short Story Contest hosted by WritersWeekly.com.
“C’mon Petunia–what if we get there and it’s closed?”
“We don’t even know if it exists,” Petunia said. “What did Gerald call it, again?”
“Café au Fromage. Gerald said it was put in next to the food tower.”
WritersWeekly.com's Summer 2018 1st Place Winner
"Seals Aren't Pets"
3rd Place Winner of the 24 Hour Short Story Contest hosted by WritersWeekly.com.
WritersWeekly.com's Winter 2020 3rd Place Winner
"Light of the Moon"
When a marriage becomes one-sided and it’s only a matter of time before attorney letters arrive in the mail, it’s time to determine a course of action. For me, I believed a trip would somehow respark the love my wife once claimed she had for me. The same love that had me ignoring the bitter remarks, silent treatments, and insults she muttered under her breath. This was just a phase, I kept telling myself.
Cold Creek Review's Issue No. 5.
Lycia alternated between popping homegrown grapes into her mouth and stirring the bubbling contents of her mini cauldron, hidden in the space below a cash register. A radio filled her tiny wine shop with old country music, and a haze of smoke lingered through the opened windows from the summer wildfires that annually plagued eastern Montana. The sweltering heat dried the grass and shrubs of the surrounding prairie dead. However, her ten-acre vineyard flourished. A series of spells kept her land fertile and always at ideal temperatures.
In the three years I knew Asal, I had never seen her face. It remained hidden behind the black fabric of her niqab with only her blue-green eyes visible. Every Tuesday and Thursday, Asal arrived at our house for English lessons with Mom, always waving at me as I worked on my homework in the living room, before she disappeared into the study where her and Mom’s muffled voices would fill the air for the next two hours
Foliate Oak Art and Literary Magazine's March 2017
"Stranger in My House"
There was a stranger in my house. I could tell. Outside my partially closed bedroom, the towel closet's bifold door was cackling. It jiggled mercilessly, filling the air with its frightening presence. The faint beep of the wristwatch on my desk indicated that the moon was now at its peak – stars dancing all around it in the purple night. My mom and dad's snores proved that they were not awake; the faint glow from the nightlight in my little sister's room, which shone underneath the crack of my bedroom door, proved the same thing for her. There was a stranger in my house, and I was panicking.
Published in Edify Fiction's First Annual Anthology.
A concrete poem that illustrates what it is like to have attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. Read "ADHD" on Hello Poetry.
"O Poem, My Poem"
Recipient of a Gold Key Award from Scholastic's Alliance of Young Artists and Writers.