I am so pleased to introduce this talented writer. Jill Malone is the author of  Red Audrey and the Roping, and Lambda Literary Award winner, Field Guide to Deception, both published by Bywater Books. Her next book, Giraffe People, is scheduled for release by Bywater Books in 2012.

I am always curious how other writers connect to their stories, how they pull the essense of their characters from their minds and deliver them to the written page. Jill has shared her process with us as only Jill can do. Here is what she says:

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Iron Circle

I'm supposed to be stepping in front of this guy, forming a triangle to his feet with my right foot, cutting through with my left foot, twisting his arm over my head and throwing him into a backward roll. The first couple of times, I keep getting tangled like some inelegant ballerina. In Aikido, we talk a lot about our hips. About opening at our hips. About sinking into our hips. About leading with our hips. "Your power is here," the sensei tells us, and pulls at his hipbones. We're talking about center, and we mean balance. We're talking about connection, and we mean the moment the attacker grabs you. His attack is half the circle, your response is the other half. Spirals. I make spirals and I throw these huge men. I pin them without doing much more than breaking their center, and dropping my body weight. Like yoga, in Aikido you're cognizant of your breathing, of dropping your shoulders, of relaxing your body. You're submitting. By submitting, you take their power from them. It sounds like a sexual exercise, but it's actually a spiritual exercise.

After three hours in the dojo, I'm malleable and high and I feel like my chest has broken open. Art is like this. Art is a spiritual exercise. It's a practice to come and sit at your desk and develop these lives. To tell these stories. I get the same high, the same joy of discovery. And as the years go on, I'm calmer. I worry less about not working from an outline, about not following a strict regime. I tell these stories because they're mine to tell. The important thing is to guard against artifice.

I do the steps, and think about power. I think about stepping around the struggle. I think about editing a manuscript. About seeing the themes and the characters and the incidents along a continuum. About making my intention clearer. What is the engine of this story?

I think about these characters. I think about their turns. What is it they are seeking?

We are kneeling in seiza, my sensei and I. Our knees touch, and he has hold of my wrists.  Without using any strength, I must break his balance and roll him. "No muscle," he cautions. "Spirals. Spirals." He is connected to me, and I am connected to him. I breathe. I can feel the circle between us. I spiral my hands into an iron circle, his right shoulder lifts slightly, and I roll him. I come here to practice. I come here to build. I come here because I am half of the circle. And you are the other half. The story is how we join.

--
Jill Malone, author
 

Jill Malone grew up in a military family, went to German kindergarten, and lived across from a bakery where they put small toys, like train engines, into chocolate, and the gummi bears were the size of mice. In the South, she caught tree frogs, and played kickball. She has lived on the East Coast, and in Hawaii, and for the last fifteen years in Spokane with her son, two old dogs, and a lot of outdoor gear. She looks for any excuse to play guitar.

She took Latin from a hot professor at the University of Hawaii, and had this idea for a novel. Like most writers, she has a sketchy career path.

Red Audrey and the Roping, her first novel, was a Lambda finalist, and won the third annual Bywater Prize for Fiction.

Her second novel, A Field Guide to Deception, was a finalist for the 2010 Ferro-Grumley, and won the Lambda Literary award.

At present, Giraffe People, her third novel, is awaiting editorial notes. Or something. If you’re curious, read Jill’s blog.