Mitch was born. If he hadn't been born, you
wouldn't be reading this and goodness knows what
you might be doing right now if you weren't reading
this.
He grew up in a small town in Tennessee, but
not on a mountain top, and he never killed a "bar"
when he was only three. However, he did grow up
with an interest in reading science fiction, sports,
girls, astronomy, girls, band, girls, chess, girls,
camping, and girls. Given his interest in astronomy,
it was natural that he started his college career at
Case Institute of Technology--which, in self defense,
promptly merged with Western Reserve University--
where he majored in astrophysics.
Oddly, there were almost no girls at Case, but
there was a fraternity where he learned to play a
game called bridge. Between frat life, playing bridge,
and dreaming about the one thing that Case didn't
offer, he obtained his BA degree in psychology at
the University of Kentucky. With his future clearly
mapped out, UK allowed him to escape to the
University of Tennessee's doctoral program in
industrial psychology. So, after obtaining his MA in
clinical psychology at Middle Tennessee State
University, he enrolled in the industrial psychology
doctoral program at Georgia Tech, which he never
attended. Instead, he worked for several years in
Tennessee as a prison psychologist, in a maximum
security psychiatric ward. He also worked for two
years with the TN Board of Paroles.
Mitch returned to graduate school at Peabody
College--which promptly merged with Vanderbilt
University for obvious reasons--and after a brief
struggle, managed to escape with a Ph.D. in clinical
psychology. He completed his internship at Fairfield
Hills Hospital in Connecticut and returned to
Tennessee where he entered private practice. He
got better with practice, so he also joined the faculty
at Vanderbilt University where he taught research
methods, statistics, and group psychotherapy. With
sheer courage, fortitude, and a lot of bulldukey, he
co-authored several research papers that would bore
you to death, published in such diverse places as
_The Journal of Rheumatology_ versus _The
Journal of Personality Assessment_.
Lured by the big bucks of private practice, Mitch
left academia and spent over a decade practicing
individual and group psychotherapy, behavioral
medicine, neuropsychology, consultation with
chemical dependency programs, and working with
an "impaired physicians" program. He chaired the
hospital practice committee for his state
psychological association until he found some
sucker, uh colleague, to take it over. He has also
done penance by chairing the oral licensure
examination committees of would-be competitors.
When Mitch encountered the oxymoron known
as "managed care" --which is Spanish for "it's a
miracle if you manage to get any care"--he retreated
to the comparative safety and security of hospital
work. He currently works at Baptist Hospital in
Nashville, TN with their chemical dependency and
diabetes education programs. He also does
behavioral medicine work with the Harvard
Mind/Body Medical Institute at Baptist Hospital,
working with people enrolled in diverse programs
such as cardiac rehabilitation, chronic pain, and
insomnia. This seems appropriate since Mitch has a
good heart, sleeps well, but can be a real chronic
pain in the a**.
In 1993, Mitch decided he wanted to write
science fiction and attempted to combine science
fiction with his warped sense of humor. This
combination earned him so many form rejections
that he planned to wallpaper a bathroom with them.
However, editors conspired to thwart his
redecorating plans and actually began to buy a few
of his stories. One editor, though, did dub him with
his CompuServe nickname, Atilla the Pun.
Currently, Mitch is semi-alive and well, and lives
with two cats. He is an avid skier and recently
received a certificate for being one of the fastest
NASTAR skiers in his state. In his spare time he
contemplates his navel, clips his toe nails, and does
other terribly fascinating things like write for the
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