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Frank B. Thompson III
Conservative fiction writer of several FREE novels, I also double as a husband, dad, chauffeuring service, family gofer whose remaining time is spent traveling, going to the gym, taking tennis less...visualizza altroConservative fiction writer of several FREE novels, I also double as a husband, dad, chauffeuring service, family gofer whose remaining time is spent traveling, going to the gym, taking tennis lessons, or typing away on my Macbook Air. I’m a very typical Meyers Briggs ‘INTP’ with the usual dry sense of humor.
My sojourn into writing began many moons ago, in the 60s, before long hair, marijuana, surfing, driving and girls had come on the scene. The 60s was an era when the musical duo Simon and Garfunkel, the television show Kung Fu and the comedy hour of Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In were in vogue for teens my age. It was before Woodstock, so you were either a jock, hoodlum, cool, uncool, popular, a wallflower, a nerd, or a brainier type who learned Latin, while the rest of us took Español.
I was sitting at a desk peeking out at freedom from a third-story window, so the tardy bell would have by that time sounded, followed by the English teacher closing the one and only doorway of escape. I was getting great grades at the time, so it was not like I hated school...just English.
The hour slowly ticked by as the red second hand of the wall mounted Simplex chronograph advanced with that hesitating, analog motion. As the minute hand closed in on the end of the period, Mrs. Goldberg announced she would be reading a short story from one of her students, someone in one of her five classes who deserved meritorious mention.
Mrs. Goldberg started reading the paper and I still remember thinking, Wow, that’s really kind of killer...I wonder which goody two shoes wrote it! It was not until the second or third paragraph into her monologue that I realized the teacher was reading mein paper...a short story on the final thoughts of a convict waiting to be taken to the electric chair or gas chamber. Macabre, I know, nevertheless that was what I assessed the homework assignment called for, and besides, as a preacher’s kid I probably believed I was a prisoner of sorts at that juncture, having to give up every Sunday for church activities, which invariably grabbed an entire day of just larking around like every other kid on the block. Anyway, being put in the spotlight for that moment had never happened before, and therefore resonated with me and became one of my notable memories.
I still call to mind the pride I felt as the classroom listened in stony, near-riveted silence, and what’s more, everyone in every one of Mrs. Goldberg’s classes was going to be forced to listen to my wonderful brilliance...Yea! My conclusion had to be something like, I will finally be recognized for something! Sadly, what notoriety I might have gained was gone before I realized it, but the instance led to an idea that I might have a knack for writing, a revelation I promptly deep-sixed, a far-flung memory that would resurface a half-century later.
I have self published two novels as of December 2014; "WTF! This is a Liberal Utopia!" and "LIARS the News Industry." Again, I have made both ebook versions free.
"WTF! This is a Liberal Utopia!" addresses the question of what America might look like, say by the year 2050, if today's liberal intelligentsia ultimately prevail? The satire pushes discourse down to the same high-sounding, muddled thinking of the geniuses on 'the left;' through vapid, touchy-feely, non-erudite, irrational conclusions and illogical, logical sounding arguments. It is a book the liberal-dominated, publishing houses would probably never let see the light of day.
"LIARS the News Industry" is about three major news barons who are bent on changing the nation with their control over the truth; their goal: nothing less than to radically change America to their benefit. The publishers, their pawns in politics have always believed themselves untouchable, but the day arrives when they are proven to be deathly wrong.visualizza meno