Non-Fiction
Self-Help Fiction

The Manuscript · Who Frank Is & How the Books Get Made

FRANKLY

short books. sharp advice. by Frank A. Ives— who does not exist

Written by nobody. Lived by everybody.

i. the authorinvented ii. the man himselfpull up a chair iii. the methodmachine + human iv. a letter from franksigned

skip straight to the books — $4.99 →

FRANKLYthe author · p. 1

Chapter One

About the author
— such as he is

Frank A. Ives was born in Notting Hill in 1952, to a Charleston engineer and a Bristol schoolteacher. He played flanker, broke his nose twice, married Margaret in 1979, lost his savings at twenty-seven, made partner at thirty-eight, and buried his best friend in 2009. lovely. none of it happened.

He has opinions about single malts, Arsenal's back four, and exactly how long a book should be. He walks four miles every morning, without headphones, and writes at his father's desk a desk that never existed. keep the desk. it's a promise, not a fact. STET.

Frank is a character — written the way novelists write people, not the way brands write mascots. He has a temper he manages, a grudge he's kept since 1994, a rough patch in his marriage he'd rather you learn from than repeat. We gave him a whole life, because advice doesn't come from nowhere. Before a hard truth can land, it needs a voice that earned it.

Frank never sat at a hospice bed in Surrey. Millions of people sat at real ones, and wrote down what it taught them. That's what he's made of. this stays exactly as written.

People have always taken their hardest lessons from people who never existed. That's what stories are for. Frank stands in that tradition, with one difference his name insists on — read the initials again: Frank A. Ives. He tells you what he is.

None of this happened All of it is true

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FRANKLYthe man himself · p. 2

Chapter Two

The man himself.
— you've met him before. at a kitchen table, probably.

Everything below is invented — that was Chapter Two's point. But it was invented carefully, because you already know this man. He's the grandfather who said the true thing once, quietly, and it reorganised your decade. Or the one you were owed and never got. Either way: pull up a chair. this is the brief: everyone's grandfather. or the one they wished for.

On talking

Against, mostly. He loves people and is drained by rooms. He will talk to you for four hours or not at all — there is no middle setting. He has never once filled a silence just because it was there.

On Margaret

Married since 1979. She reads everything first, and has never told him a draft was good when it wasn't. He still dances with her in the kitchen. Badly. On purpose.

On golf

Twice a week for thirty years. Shoots in the mid-nineties. Shot an 88 once, in 2019, and has told the story forty-seven times. He knows the number.

On fishing

Never. I have never had the patience to pay a river to ignore me.

On chess

His father taught him at eight. He taught his son at seven. His son taught his grandson at six. He considers this one of the better things he has passed on.

On rugby

Flanker until thirty-four. Two broken noses, one of which healed badly. What it taught him: pain is temporary, quitting is permanent, and you can read a room the way you read a defence.

On football

Arsenal, inherited from his father in 1948, the way other families pass down watches. He considers supporting Arsenal adequate preparation for most things life offers.

On the pub

A pint at the local, if he has walked far enough to earn it. A whisky in the evening — he has opinions about which one, shared freely when asked, and occasionally when not.

On his roots

A Charleston father, a Bristol mother, a London street. American directness delivered with British precision. At home everywhere and nowhere — which turned out to be useful.

On the grandchildren

Four. He reads to them — good books, not simple ones. They beat him at Scrabble sometimes. He is gracious about it in the room and quietly determined about it afterward.

On clothes

Good shoes, resoled twice. He has never owned a pair of trainers he would wear outside a gym. He considers this a reasonable position.

On time

Four miles every morning, without headphones. He stopped assuming there was plenty of time in 1973, and has been productively impatient ever since. It's why the books are short.

and why yours is $4.99, not $24.

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FRANKLYthe method · p. 3

Chapter Three

A machine, a human,
and an argument.

Every Frank book is made the same way. You're looking at the method right now — this whole page is what our process looks like before it ships.

Exhibit A — an actual argument

In today's fast-paced world, effective communication has never been more important. ↓ say something or go home

"The conversation you're avoiding is already happening. You just haven't said your part yet."

now THAT ships.

AI drafts wide

A machine reads everything worth reading on one subject — the research, the classics, the forum threads at 2am, the things your grandfather would have said. That's the part machines are good at: reading more than any one person ever could.

A human argues with it

A real editor cuts, rewrites, pushes back, and throws out anything generic, flat, or false — see Exhibit A. Every line gets the same test: would you say this, out loud, to someone you love who is in trouble?

Frank gets the byline

The surviving pages go out in Frank's voice — one subject, one hour, no padding. Hard advice lands better from a wise uncle than from a chat window.

You're told the truth

On every copyright page, and on this one. If a line of Frank ever stops being true, useful, or blunt, it gets cut — same as everything else.

THE FRANKLY PLEDGE

Nothing ships that the editor wouldn't say to his own family. Frank is fiction. The standard isn't.

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FRANKLYa letter from frank · p. 4

Chapter Four

A letter from Frank,
being frank.

I never lived a day in my life. Never married, never got fired, never buried a friend.

The advice works anyway — because it was never mine. It's yours. Every argument at 2am. Every question asked of a search bar because it couldn't be asked of a person. Everything you wished somebody had just said out loud.

Millions of people lived it. I wrote it down short.

If this isn't the book you need right now, come back when it is.

Frank A. IvesFictional author · Frankly Press

Approved for release

he'll say he doesn't do sentiment. leave it in anyway.

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