On the morning of Sunday, January 19th, 2014 Allan Douglas passed over the bridge to pound the great typewriter in the sky. He died by my hand. Although I prefer the term “assisted suicide” to “murder” because Allan Douglas and I had in fact discussed this situation and the way things might play out. But should anyone elect to prefer charges…
Before the NSA data-mining center flags this post and sends the FBI over to break down my door, I should explain that Allan Douglas was my pen name. A pseudonym I began using way back in the late 1970’s when I first began writing for periodicals.
I chose to use that name because it was easier to remember – and to spell – than Douglas Bittinger. I also felt it sounded more artistic: more…writerly. And since it was indeed my own first and middle names, just deranged, it was still “me” any way you sliced it.
Why Kill Allan Douglas?
So what would motivate me to cast aside a moniker that I had served me well for so long and I had spent so much time building up? I can explain that in one word: Phoneyism.