A Short Interview + "bonus material" w/ Thomas Mixon

"Bonus material" for Mixon's short story, “National Dish,” published on Tuesday, 7/2.

If you haven’t already, reading “National Dish” now… and then read our short interview about the story!

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Aaron Burch: I’m kinda always curious where stories came from and what the seeds of idea were. Can you tell me a little about the genesis for this story?

Thomas Mixon: I had never heard the acronym SAHD before. Last year I was leaving my corporate job to stay home with our newborn full-time, and somebody said to me, Have a fun time being a SAHD! I heard it as, Have a fun time being sad! Which I expected, in a way — it was our 2nd child, I've been a dad before. I knew there was going to be so much joy, but also worry, tears. I promised myself I wouldn't worry as much, this time.

And it worked, kind of! I worried less, but mainly because I didn't have the energy. I started calling myself Sad SAHD, as a joke, as a way to cope with the (at least for me) innate failure of never being able to get things perfect for the ones you love. I loved what I was doing, but it was a lot.

Also, I'm clumsy as fuck. I'd have to pay extra attention, esp. with the baby, nearly all my attention, to make sure I was walking not like an idiot, not tripping over the blind dog, etc. Which also worked, except that once I was off kid-duty, I would accidentally walk into the corner of a wall, drop plates on the floor. It was like the clumsiness was only on hold, during the most important hours.

And then last fall, I broke my foot — not in any dramatic fashion, just stumbled in the grass, on a slightly raised section of earth. So there I was, in a boot, carting around both kids to doctors appointments and the library, and I was reminded of clowns. Weren't they always getting injured? But also weren't they always, by the end of the performance, fine?

Simultaneously, in the news, pictures of detainees, hands behind their backs, all being marched in the same direction by masked guards. I started thinking of the psychology of that. I started thinking of the main character of "National Dish," who at first I only imagined as someone in a mask, approaching someone for revenge, who didn't know who they were, because of masks. I got mixed up. I couldn't remember who was supposed to wear masks, and turned this into a monologue.

I also live in the VT/NH Upper Valley, near Quechee Gorge, and cross it fairly often. There was road work being done on it recently, off-season, and I'd wait in line in front of the temporary traffic light, looking at the abandoned ice cream shack and the gift shop and whatnot, daydreaming about its apocalyptic vibe till the light went green.

And finally, I'm sure this was part of it, though I swear I forgot about it until after the piece was finished — as a child I was a contestant on one of the regional affiliate TV station versions of Bozo the Clown. I was in the final challenge, where I had to throw a ball into a series of buckets, further and further away. I'm pretty sure I lost before the halfway point.

I was going to ask about world-building anyway, but I'm kinda all the more curious now. I love that one of the impetuses was just being a stay at home dad. My inclination would probably be to take that and go in a much more domestic realism story, but this really opens up. Rereading the story before publication, I was actually a little surprised that is was even a little shorter and "included" less than I'd remembered, I think in large part because the story feels so big and full, and the world of it so considered. You do touch on some other inspirations too (the news, Bozo the clown...), but I wonder if you can talk some about how you think about the world of a story some? How that happens, either in general or specifically here with "National Dish"?