12 or 20 (second series) questions with Shannon Arntfield
ShannonArntfield is asecond-career trauma informed therapist whose work explores the challenges andrewards of saying ‘yes’ to all of life’s effluence. Her first full length bookcollection Python Love was published by the University of Alberta Pressin February 2025. Her debut chapbook Fallen Horseman was published byAnstruther Press in 2023. Individual poems have been featured in CV2, PRISMInternational, The Antigonish Review, The Examined Life Journal,and Snapdragon Journal. She lives in London, Ontario.
Arntfield launches Python Love in Ottawa on April 15 at Octopus Books, alongside Christine McNair.
1 - How didyour first book or chapbook change your life? How does your most recent workcompare to your previous? How does it feel different?
I’m not sure it‘changed my life’. But something invisible became visible – which offered asense of coherence, of integration, in my personal and professional life. Whichfeels really good. The publication process also engendered a ton ofinterconnectedness – which was very developing. Between me and parts ofmyself, which was healing, and between me and others – my editor, thepublishers, colleagues who are helping me promote it, the community who comesto listen – all which has been simultaneously humbling and encouraging.
I’m working on asecond full-length manuscript now (just submitted a chapbook length excerptover the weekend – eek!) for something quite different – on the theme of ‘Initiation’.It connects to Python Love, because it extends my exploration of the waysin which love and suffering are inexplicably and inextricably linked – but itgoes wide instead of just deep – looking outwards to the archetypal andenergetic voices that inform our understanding of our connection to others andthe natural world.
2 - How didyou come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I would say itcame to me, as opposed to the other way round. I tried to write fiction – butit always fizzled…like I didn’t have the imagination to develop and sustain theideas and the characters. Poetry appealed to me in being so spare, so essential,so urgent. So completely dependent on being boiled down to the bare essence,to honesty and directness. All of that feels right, and resonant, withwhatever or whoever it is inside me that needs to write.
3 - How longdoes it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writinginitially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear lookingclose to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?
It’s both. Some poemsjust come. In a flood, in a single moment – waking me up from sleep, alreadyfull and complete. Others have taken me over 10 years – several of which are inPython Love. The idea was there, but I wasn’t ready…or it wasn’t fullyformed yet, or both. More things needed to happen – personally andprofessionally – for it to open, for me to understand, for me to have thelanguage to share it.
4 - Where doesa poem usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end upcombining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book" fromthe very beginning?
The former.Though my awareness of what I’m working on – the themes and my synthesis of it– is coming much more quickly as I work on my second book.
5 - Are publicreadings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort ofwriter who enjoys doing readings?
I’m not sure yet!I brought a lot of public speaking experience with me from my first career, inboth large and small gatherings – and I have a longstanding commitment to beingauthentic – but poetry readings are perhaps the first time where I am encouragedand invited to do both things simultaneously. Medicine is famous forrequiring a veneer and impermeability when in front of others – nothing issupposed to affect you – but that never felt natural, and I fought against italways. The risk/reward ratio of being vulnerable and human amidst professionalengagements, however, often came with experiences of being ‘othered’ – offeeling misunderstood, of being perceived as weak, of swimming upstream. Poetryis amazing because it is just so honest, and people who gather to readand listen to poetry are – consciously or unconsciously – often seekingauthenticity, truth, and connection. We are all just human, and when weare surrounded and invited to participate in that experience with others, itfeels good. I mean, it feels uncomfortable too…but that friction is productivewhen you let it be – when you say yes to it. So yes – I’d say readings are partof my process. Though I didn’t know it was until you asked me.
6 - Do youhave any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions areyou trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the currentquestions are?
I’ve worriedabout telling other people’s stories – both personally and professionally. Weall have such different experiences – even when we’re in the same room, beingexposed to the same stimulus – and I am aware that my version of what happenedmay not be reflective of, and could even be in competition with, someone else’sexperience of the same event. And, I’ve worried about upsetting people withwhat I write about – the medical sections of Python Love would neverhave been a thing if I hadn’t been encouraged by one of my writing groupmembers to develop a short poem I submitted one week. I didn’t think anyonewould be interested – and I was worried about injuring someone else throughsharing my experience. It turns out people are interested – at least I have toassume they are, given that the book was promoted and published – and I’velearned I have to trust people to do what is best for them, both in theirdecision to listen (or not) in the first place, and in caring for themselvesafter, if they choose to engage.
The kinds ofquestions I am trying to answer?
Why and how do we become?
What is the role of love and suffering inour lives?
Why do some people open, and some peopleclose, in response to their experience?
7 – What doyou see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Does s/he evenhave one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?
To ask questions.To invite curiosity, and reflection – of self, and of others. To tell the truth– yours – and invite others to do the same. To take risk. To add your voice tothe masses, trusting it’s important – while simultaneously recognizing that youare a speck of dust. To learn from others. To be open.
8 - Do youfind the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (orboth)?
Both. Though Ionly have so much experience, let’s be honest. When U of A Press accepted mymanuscript, they offered/accepted the opportunity for me to continue workingwith my existing editor, Jim Johnstone. That was amazing – the project and thewriting felt super vulnerable, many of the poems being directly about trauma –and I was so grateful to continue working within the safety net that Jim and Ihad established. Having said that, the first stage of the U of A processinvolved responding to two independent and anonymous reviewers, who had providedfeedback on the manuscript that I had to either incorporate or justifydeclining, in order for the manuscript to pass through from acceptance to aformal invitation and contract. And that was challenging. Edifying, butdefinitely challenging.
9 - What isthe best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
a) Just keep submitting - aim for 100rejections a year.
b) Only submit when you feel moved to.
10 - What kindof writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does atypical day (for you) begin?
I intentionallyblock off two days a week for writing. I don’t always use them – but they arealways available.
11 - When yourwriting gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a betterword) inspiration?
I just wait. Iknow it will come. In the meantime, I do the things I know are supportive, andresourcing. I read. I journal. I talk to other people. I meditate. I pray. Ikeep working. I keep parenting. I keep relating. I keep curious.
12 - Whatfragrance reminds you of home?
My mom’s perfume.The ocean. Windy rain.
13 - David W.McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any other formsthat influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?
Nature is a bigone - the biggest. Institutions where systems and people intersect would beanother – medicine, faith, and faith-based practices and scriptures. And mostrecently, visual art – specifically the practice of SoulCollageÒ , which has been the basis for many of the poems in my secondmanuscript. In SoulCollageÒ, I work with the energy emanating from avisual medium (which I created, using an intuitive collaging process). Thatenergy ‘speaks’ with a voice of it’s own, which I then record. In some cases, apoem results from the process – which has been a fabulous and wholly new way ofwriting that’s been both expansive and exciting.
14 - Whatother writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your lifeoutside of your work?
15 - Whatwould you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Go wild in someway, in self-expression.
16 - If youcould pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately,what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?
I surprisedmyself and other people by already doing this – leaving medicine to become atherapist. The choice was coherent with my ‘pluripotent’ younger self, whocouldn’t decide between medicine, ministry, and counseling. Now, I feel like Ido all three.
17 - What madeyou write, as opposed to doing something else?
I had to.
18 - What wasthe last great book you read? What was the last great film?
I don’t watch alot of films…so I’ll take the opportunity to plug Amor Towles and Ann Patchett –literally anything they write.
19 - What areyou currently working on?
A perfect loop!See question 1.
Thanks rob! Thiswas really fun J
