Phil Mershon lives in Phoenix, Arizona with his best friend Lisa Ann and all their dogs and birds.
Describe your desk
Because I always have multiple projects going on, my desk has been declared a controlled disaster area. One coffee, one Coke bottle, one glass of juice, desk lamp, stack of papers that never made it to the in-box, too few papers in the out-box, several pair of eyeglasses (none quite proper), a silver cup of antidepressants, post-it note pads, pens with the caps chewed, cell phone--all of this throbbing atop a translucent picnic table that takes up half the dining room.
Where did you grow up, and how did this influence your writing?
Growing up in Circleville, Ohio impacted my need to be a writer. I remember the town as being friendly, yet with a strong sense of competition. I wasn't a jock, I was never going to make the honor roll (I think it happened once and that was a clerical error), I couldn't paint or draw, I didn't know anything about cars, and because I didn't have an in with any of those things, I couldn't develop connections to get decent drugs. The only thing I did with confidence was write. At first I did it just to amuse the other students. After a while I did it to antagonize the faculty. I was fairly good at it.
A Senator missing since 1971; four middle-class department store robbers; a red-hooded waif on her way to assassinate the President; a man who discovers the world's best soft drink; a taxi driver unknowingly transporting large bags of cocaine; a chicken that crosses the road: these twenty-three short stories and dialogues will have you spinning in your chair.