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Exploring the art of prose

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Interview: Molly Gaudry

By | Interviews, Craft | May 27, 2026

  Genre-bending is a not a new concept, yet it seems to have recently made its way into the mainstream (at least, as far as TikTok goes) with works such as the memoir/fantasy/gothic/horror In the Dream House by Carmen Maria…

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Author’s Note

“You write from what you know, but you write into what you don’t know,” the great short story writer and activist, Grace Paley, tells us. 

“Tink of spirit dancers high in the sky,” said one of my first writing coaches, Simeon, a champion Yup’ik runner with one arm. 

Apa Simeon stayed inside my heart for a number of reasons. He held languages at his fingertips yet used precious few words in a marriage of three tongues. Writing as an Alaskan, I find my footing by depicting my diverse Alaskan relatives and the multifaceted land itself, which suggests any number of plots vying with characters. My first story experience is a warm stove. You’re in a cold cabin during a blizzard, the television hasn’t arrived in this world yet, and a relative or a friend tells you a story. This generosity requires a kind of double vision in the use of words. Each word lands on air, carrying its own weight. 

I take it that when the ancient people weren’t telling stories by firelight, they traversed the tundra, mostly to fish, hunt, or to get somewhere fast. Some were running, though to do so in the cold weather demands precautions because you don’t want to sweat in the subzero air. One who speeds too fast brings his or her own death. Pacing is key. 

This story began in kernels from known history, buttered by my own gender experience, salted by fireside charcoal. There’s a long rush of runners among us, as if Olympic games have played out on the tundra throughout time. Even Indigenous stories of the northern lights, or auroras, depict a running game in the sky. It was important to know how to run: the right wear, the correct mileage, the proper goal. 

Traits of all good storytelling, I’m told.

The race belongs to the characters in the story. Who won isn’t highlighted so much as why they ran and how far they got. I trust this story finds its way across the snow.

 

NAOMI KLOUDA was raised in Alaska and earned a BA in Journalism from Gonzaga University and an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Alaska Anchorage. Her writings often invoke the language and culture of Yup’ik and Alutiiq cultures, after living with those cultures through marriage and giving birth to her children. She is the mother of three children and the grandmother of five. She studied the Yup’ik language under Yup’ik speaker John Active, and the Alutiiq language under Philomena Knecht. Her various writings have been accepted by fifteen publications during 2025-2026. She is the author of Anna’s Whale, The Alaska Glacier Dictionary, and The Octopus Murders. She lives in Homer, Alaska.