What I enjoy most about writing is hearing how much my stories have touched people. The proudest comments I have received have been, âI was up half the night reading your last novel... I can hardly wait until your next one.â It is a statement that I feel blessed to have earned. I have even been approached in my local watering hole and asked, âWhat are you doing here? Shouldnât you be writing your next book?â Few things bring as broad a smile to my face.
No matter what I write, I always put my own personality into the work. The flavour, or as some call it, the voice of my work is distinctive and captivating.
I'm a writer with fans I consider friends and family, and I wouldnât give that up for the world. I love to write for them as much as I love to write for myself.
If you havenât read my books, I invite you to take one for a test drive. Each novel has a free download of the first three chapters available. I know once you have read one, you will become a member of the SM Dougan group of cherished friends.
Suspense/mystery/fantasy tales that are hard to put down.
More than a half century ago the winter solstice delivered me to this world. It was a Wednesday. A bleak and foul day - cold and snowing; a day custom tailored for the arrival of such a child as me. Created in Ireland, I made the journey across the Atlantic to Canada and then on to the city of my birth.
Edmonton in winter can be a cruel place for the unprepared; I was up to the task. I came into the world screaming like a warrior on his way to battle, four days too early for sainthood; an injustice I have spent my life compensating for.
I was the first born of three sons. The pressure of the responsibilities associated with such rank wore heavy on me, but I met every challenge with honour. One of my few refuges was the quiet times I spent alone inside my own head. I allowed my imagination free reign to create stories and lives that didn't exist. I created stories that amused and entertained me. They gave me a host of friends that amazed and challenged me.
The sources for my stories are varied. Some are interpretations of tales shared with me by trusted shaman. Others were concocted from scattered and somewhat unreliable memories of parties I attended. Still others are adaptations of creations I shared with pretty young prospects in my dating days. Some are from the memories of my youth. Some I have no idea where they came from - perhaps fragmented memories of nightmares.
Those that know me will deny the validity of some of these recollections.
I am a writer of fiction, and these are the events as my memory has preserved them. Fiction must still be garnished with fragments of truth. In all cases, the focus of my writing is story. I believe fiction is for the heart and imagination. The sole purpose is entertainment; an escape for the senses.
I have studied diverse topics throughout my life; feeding an almost insatiable desire to learn. I have been employed in myriad occupations. I have been an avid motorcyclist, skydiver, recreational pilot, raced cars, philosopher, magician, psychiatrist, saxophonist, clarinettist, and a computer slave. I am a father, step-father, husband and master of domineering lower forms.
I enjoy cold beer on a hot day, laughter with friends, short walks, children laughing and playing, beautiful music, beautiful women, moonlit nights, rolling breakers, and writing. I enjoy and cherish my siblings, parents, family, friends, and memories.
My writing started for my own amusement and sanity. Taking work of mine, publishing it, and sharing with the world is a scary proposition. A written work, even one of fiction, allows a certain insight into the mind of its author. Welcome to my mind, I'm sure the darkness will entertain you.
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