Hi. I’m Marisa. Pronounced muh-riss-uh, not muh-rees-uh. Unless you’re my parents, in which you case you roll the R and say muh-DEES-uh. But only if you’re my mom. My dad would say maw-dee-SAW. Also, there was a time when my older brother could only pronounce my name as maw-see-saw, but that is neither here nor there.
I’m one of two Iranian-Mexican-Citizen Potawatomi Nation people. (My brother is the other one.) I may be the only Marisa Mohi in the U.S. Other than that, I’m pretty normal.
I’m a Gen Y Oklahoma writer with two master’s degrees and a bad cake habit. I’ve been scribbling down ideas since my parents sent me to the 7-Eleven down the strip mall from their pizza restaurant to buy a memo pad and a highlighter so I didn’t spend all my time playing the Gilligan’s Island pinball machine in the lobby. If you buy me a drink, I’ll gladly tell you about the time I read Ramona Quimby, Age 8 in the second grade and realized that my true calling was to be a writer.
For the past two years I’ve been teaching Business Communication at my alma mater, the University of Oklahoma. I came to Norman, Oklahoma, 12 years ago to attend college, and wound up finding my home.