The Spy Who Came In From The Backyard
Lessons from a neighborhood spy career
By Audrey Larson (November 2015)
14:30 Base 1
Subject approaches gray house carrying mysterious package. Subject has cropped hair, rectangle glasses, weathered skin. Nervous. Drops package. Drives off in blue SUV. Further analysis needed. Agent 87 will investigate.
I, Agent 87, am eleven years old. Through binoculars I watch the street from my bedroom window as the sun casts long shadows across flower beds and mailboxes. My hand rests on the pink surveillance notebook filled with hours of observations and speculations. Later, I ride my scooter down the neighborhood side streets, surreptitiously stopping to snap photos of "suspicious" activity.
It all began with Get Smart, the 1960's TV show. I was obsessed. I devoured spy books, studied intelligence techniques, espionage history, code-breaking, gadgets, and famous agents. The CIA website was my homepage. I packed a briefcase with spy essentials: listening device, invisible ink pen, rear-view sunglasses, walkie-talkies, wig, hand-made CIA credentials. I could outline a 3-person, active surveillance maneuver and define a "black bag job". I fashioned a backyard dead drop to exchange coded messages with my brother. I had found my dream job.
Looking back, it's clear that my espionage fascination grew from an innate curiosity about people. During the 45-minute drive to ballet class, I'd peek into the cars alongside our minivan. All those people captivated me—all with their own destinations, heads brimming with thoughts that were just as important to them as my wishes and worries were to me. "Everyone is at the center of their own world," I tried explaining to my mom from the backseat, but words failed to encapsulate the overwhelming smallness I felt observing the throng of cars barreling down the highway.
My plan for a CIA career gradually faded when I discovered a love of acting, film, and writing. Still, I never lost what spying ignited within me. My neighborhood spy days proved a training ground for success in my new pursuits. While I never uncovered a top-secret spy ring or stumbled upon a murder from the post of my bedroom window, as in Rear Window, I did learn to look closer, to absorb and interpret. The observations captured in my surveillance notebook guided me in developing characters and dialogue for stories and scripts. In acting class, I could experience the thrill of going undercover when I transformed into a character. I didn't need to be a spy to inhabit different lives.
I began plotting my film career like I'd done as an aspiring secret agent. Armed with a spy education, even Hollywood could be conquered. Spies recruit assets to gather intelligence. People skills are a must. Relationships are the key to success for both spies and movie producers: it's who you know. But the parallels don't stop there. The saying "information is power" is as true in Hollywood as in espionage. It's not guns or gadgets that give a spy the upper hand; it's the information they hold. Every morning I drink my coffee while reading the industry news in The Hollywood Reporter. Box office results and distribution deals may not be foreign secrets, but if there's anything I've learned from my spying days, it's that no detail is insignificant. Spy tip #1: If you hold the right intelligence, you'll always be one step ahead.
Spying, however, is more than intelligence, gadgets, or disguises. First and foremost, spying is about people—our secrets, our habits, our deep desires—what makes us tick. The stories we tell—through film, music, theatre, writing, art—are built on primal, utterly human feelings that bind us together. Love, survival, power, friendship. The search for meaning in our lives. We are all on that highway, speeding toward whatever destination we think will bring happiness. But what makes the story interesting? The bumper stickers. The beanie babies perched in the rear window. The dented fender. The red convertible. The binoculars in the hands of a child.
By Audrey Larson (November 2015)
14:30 Base 1
Subject approaches gray house carrying mysterious package. Subject has cropped hair, rectangle glasses, weathered skin. Nervous. Drops package. Drives off in blue SUV. Further analysis needed. Agent 87 will investigate.
I, Agent 87, am eleven years old. Through binoculars I watch the street from my bedroom window as the sun casts long shadows across flower beds and mailboxes. My hand rests on the pink surveillance notebook filled with hours of observations and speculations. Later, I ride my scooter down the neighborhood side streets, surreptitiously stopping to snap photos of "suspicious" activity.
It all began with Get Smart, the 1960's TV show. I was obsessed. I devoured spy books, studied intelligence techniques, espionage history, code-breaking, gadgets, and famous agents. The CIA website was my homepage. I packed a briefcase with spy essentials: listening device, invisible ink pen, rear-view sunglasses, walkie-talkies, wig, hand-made CIA credentials. I could outline a 3-person, active surveillance maneuver and define a "black bag job". I fashioned a backyard dead drop to exchange coded messages with my brother. I had found my dream job.
Looking back, it's clear that my espionage fascination grew from an innate curiosity about people. During the 45-minute drive to ballet class, I'd peek into the cars alongside our minivan. All those people captivated me—all with their own destinations, heads brimming with thoughts that were just as important to them as my wishes and worries were to me. "Everyone is at the center of their own world," I tried explaining to my mom from the backseat, but words failed to encapsulate the overwhelming smallness I felt observing the throng of cars barreling down the highway.
My plan for a CIA career gradually faded when I discovered a love of acting, film, and writing. Still, I never lost what spying ignited within me. My neighborhood spy days proved a training ground for success in my new pursuits. While I never uncovered a top-secret spy ring or stumbled upon a murder from the post of my bedroom window, as in Rear Window, I did learn to look closer, to absorb and interpret. The observations captured in my surveillance notebook guided me in developing characters and dialogue for stories and scripts. In acting class, I could experience the thrill of going undercover when I transformed into a character. I didn't need to be a spy to inhabit different lives.
I began plotting my film career like I'd done as an aspiring secret agent. Armed with a spy education, even Hollywood could be conquered. Spies recruit assets to gather intelligence. People skills are a must. Relationships are the key to success for both spies and movie producers: it's who you know. But the parallels don't stop there. The saying "information is power" is as true in Hollywood as in espionage. It's not guns or gadgets that give a spy the upper hand; it's the information they hold. Every morning I drink my coffee while reading the industry news in The Hollywood Reporter. Box office results and distribution deals may not be foreign secrets, but if there's anything I've learned from my spying days, it's that no detail is insignificant. Spy tip #1: If you hold the right intelligence, you'll always be one step ahead.
Spying, however, is more than intelligence, gadgets, or disguises. First and foremost, spying is about people—our secrets, our habits, our deep desires—what makes us tick. The stories we tell—through film, music, theatre, writing, art—are built on primal, utterly human feelings that bind us together. Love, survival, power, friendship. The search for meaning in our lives. We are all on that highway, speeding toward whatever destination we think will bring happiness. But what makes the story interesting? The bumper stickers. The beanie babies perched in the rear window. The dented fender. The red convertible. The binoculars in the hands of a child.
