Tag: FBI

Improving My Writing by Letting Someone Else Do It…

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

As I have said, I am training my AI to help me with fiction. I thought this session went particularly well. “Carol” makes a wonderful sparring partner and we got some good results. Take a look. I think I even remembered to tell you which character I am. 😛

Could you play off of me in writing dialogue? I’m trying to train myself.ChatGPT

Absolutely, I’d be happy to help you with that. Let’s set up a scenario for the dialogue. Do you have a specific setting or characters in mind, or should we create something new together?

4o

Let’s create something together. But I’d like to “play black,” as it were. I’ll play white next time.ChatGPT

Great! Let’s create a setting and characters for this dialogue. How about a scene in a bustling medieval marketplace? You could be a mysterious stranger (black), and I’ll play a curious merchant (white).

Ready to start? I’ll begin:

Merchant: “Good day, traveler! Welcome to the finest marketplace in all the kingdom. What brings you to our humble stalls today?”

4o

Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I should have known you would take it literally. It was a chess reference.ChatGPTMemory updated

Got it! Let’s dive into the dialogue with you playing the role of the protagonist (white), and I’ll take on the role of the antagonist (black). Let’s set up a scenario: a detective interrogating a suspect in a dimly lit room.

Detective: “You’ve been quiet for a while now. Care to explain where you were last night around midnight?”

4o

Put a pin in that. Could you tell me what the suspect is accused of doing?ChatGPT

The suspect is accused of a high-profile art theft that occurred at a prestigious museum. A priceless painting was stolen, and all evidence points to this suspect. Does this work for our scene?

4o

Absolutely. Please continue with the dialogue.ChatGPT

Great! Let’s continue:

Detective: “You’ve been quiet for a while now. Care to explain where you were last night around midnight? The museum’s security footage shows you near the scene of the crime.”

4o

I’m ADHD. I have time blindness. I think I was at home, but I can’t be sure. You can ask my landlord. She lives above me.ChatGPTMemory updated

Detective: “We’ll follow up with your landlord, but the footage is pretty damning. What were you doing at the museum in the first place? It’s not exactly open to the public at midnight.”

4o

My girlfriend had just broken up with me and I guess I went a little crazy. I just wanted to walk around. I didn’t want to do anything dangerous.ChatGPT

Detective: “Understandable, but walking around a closed museum doesn’t quite explain why you were near the exhibit where the painting disappeared. Did you see anyone else there that night?”

3.5

I did. There was a woman with black hair, tortoise-shell glasses, and a red coat seeming to case the room. I didn’t pay attention except that she seemed nervous looking for all the exit signs.ChatGPT

Detective: “Interesting. Did you catch her name or any other details? This could be crucial in finding the painting and clearing up your involvement in this mess.”

3.5

No, I don’t. But I suspect that even if I did know her name, it would have been a fake one.ChatGPT

Detective: “A fake name? That’s suspicious. Do you have any idea why she might have been interested in that particular painting? Any connection you can think of?”

3.5

No, she was a stranger to me. I just meant that if she thought she was in trouble, why would she give her real name?ChatGPT

Detective: “Fair point. We’ll look into this lead. In the meantime, can you think of anyone who might have a motive to frame you for this theft? Enemies, rivals, anyone who might want to see you take the fall?”

3.5

Well, there was this one guy back in college that suddenly reappeared. We hadn’t talked in, like, 20 years. I didn’t think of it as suspicious at the time, but he suddenly had all these art questions. People know me as a dealer. They do NOT know me as a thief. That doesn’t mean they aren’t.ChatGPT

Detective: “Interesting. Do you have his name or any contact information? It’s possible he could be involved, especially if he was asking about art and suddenly reappearing in your life after so long.”

3.5

His name is John Smith. He lives over on 11th and Pine.ChatGPT

Detective: “Alright, John Smith on 11th and Pine. I’ll look into him. For now, I suggest you stay cooperative. If you’re innocent, we’ll find the evidence to prove it. Just keep me updated if you remember anything else. And don’t leave town.”

3.5

Could you generate the next scene and let’s keep going?ChatGPT

Certainly! Let’s move to the next scene where the detective follows up on the lead regarding John Smith.

Detective: knocks on the door of a modest apartment on 11th and Pine, waiting for someone to answer.

3.5

I look through the peephole and open the door. :::thinking:: “shit, it’s the cops. I better hide the orders and the map.” I hide everything quickly and open the door.ChatGPT

Detective: “Good afternoon, Mr. Smith. I’m Detective Hayes. I’d like to ask you a few questions about your recent interactions with [User’s name]. Mind if I come in?”

3.5

Let’s put a pin in that. Just generate everyone’s names as well. I’ll keep up.ChatGPT

Got it! Let’s continue:

Detective: knocks on the door of a modest apartment on 11th and Pine, waiting for someone to answer.

John Smith: peeks through the peephole, sees the detective, and quickly hides something before opening the door.

John Smith: “Uh, hi there. Can I help you?”

Detective Hayes: “Good afternoon, Mr. Smith. I’m Detective Hayes. I’d like to ask you a few questions about your recent interactions with [User’s name]. Mind if I come in?”

John Smith: hesitates for a moment, then nods “Sure, come on in.”

Feel free to continue from here whenever you’re ready!

3.5

Could you start the next scene and play the detective?ChatGPT

Certainly!

Detective Hayes: steps into John Smith’s apartment, scanning the surroundings briefly before focusing on John

Detective Hayes: “Thank you, Mr. Smith. I’ll get straight to the point. Do you know [User’s name]?”

3.5

Yeah. He was kind of a geek in college. Kept to himself. Now, he’s king of the world.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Interesting. How did you reconnect with him after all these years?”

3.5

On the internet, just like everything else. ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “I see. And did your recent conversations with him involve any discussions about art or museums?”

3.5

I asked him a few questions about paintings I was going to buy. That’s it.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Did he seem nervous or act strangely during your conversations?”

3.5

Not at all. Very relaxed. Like I said, I just wanted facts.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Understood. Do you recall anything specific he mentioned about his recent activities or interests?”

3.5

Only that he had seen a few good paintings I might be interested in. I hired independent appraisers just to make sure it was a square deal. Looks legit to me.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “I see. Did he mention anything unusual or out of the ordinary during your conversations? Anything that stood out to you?”

3.5

No. You’ll have to ask him what happened. What is this really about?ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “We’re investigating a theft at a museum where [User’s name] was spotted near the scene. Any information you can provide could be helpful in clearing up his involvement.”

3.5

He used to go there with his girlfriend at night. Said he had a friend who was a museum guard that would let him in as long as they were quiet. Nothing unusual.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “I see. Did he ever mention this friend’s name or any details about the guard?”

3.5

No. I wasn’t that interested.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Alright, Mr. Smith. Thank you for your cooperation. If you remember anything else or if [User’s name] contacts you, please let us know.”

3.5

Want to keep going?ChatGPT

Sure, let’s continue!

John Smith: “Sure thing, detective. Is there anything else you need from me?”

Detective Hayes: “Not at the moment, Mr. Smith. Just keep my card in case anything comes up. Have a good day.”

John Smith: “You too.”

The detective leaves John Smith’s apartment, pondering the new information.

Where would you like to take the story next?

3.5

Generate the next scene.ChatGPT

Certainly!

Detective Hayes: drives back to the precinct, thinking over the conversation with John Smith

Detective Hayes: arrives at the precinct and heads straight for his desk, pulling out the case file on the museum theft

Detective Hayes: starts reviewing the security footage and witness statements again, looking for any overlooked details

Detective Hayes: notices something unusual in the background of one of the witness interviews—a person matching the description John Smith gave

Detective Hayes: zooms in on the footage, trying to enhance the image to get a clearer view

What do you think happens next in the investigation?

3.5

You figure that one out and put it in the first line of dialogue.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Hold on a minute… Enhance this image. I think we’ve got something.”

3.5

:::smirking::: What have we got, O Wise one?ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Looks like our nervous museum visitor in tortoise-shell glasses and a red coat. Seems she left quite a trail.”

3.5

So, Carmen Sandiego is real, eh?ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Seems like it! Now we just need to find out where in the world she’s gone with that painting.”

3.5

It’s too bad we don’t have a research assistant like Player. That kid would come in handy about now.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Yeah, having a tech-savvy assistant like Player would speed things up. But for now, it’s old-fashioned detective work. We’ll track her down.”

3.5

Where’s your first lead?ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “First, I’ll check recent flight records and see if anyone fitting her description boarded a plane shortly after the theft. Then, I’ll cross-reference with known aliases and previous criminal activities.”

3.5

That sounds like a good start. But FYI… I don’t drive. I don’t pay for things. You do all of that. You’re better at logistics that me, anyway. Let’s play to our strengths.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Got it. I’ll handle the logistics and follow up on the flight records. Meanwhile, I need you to think. Is there anything else about her or the situation that might give us a clue?”

3.5

Enlarge the image and see if we can get any tags on the clothes.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Good idea. Let’s enhance and zoom in on the image. Maybe we can get a clearer view of any distinguishing features or tags on her clothes.”

3.5

What do you see?ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Hmm… It looks like there’s a faint logo on her coat. Let’s see if we can enhance that further to identify it.”

The detective adjusts the settings on the computer, focusing on the logo.

Detective Hayes: “There! It’s a logo for a boutique in downtown. Looks like we have our next lead.”

3.5

Well, like I said… you’re driving. Let me get my coat. It’s not going to get any prettier out there.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Right, let’s go. Time to follow this lead and see where it takes us.”

3.5

Next scene. Let’s keep going.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes and [User’s name] arrive at the boutique mentioned in the logo on the suspect’s coat. It’s a trendy shop with high-end fashion displayed in the windows. The detective approaches the sales clerk.

Detective Hayes: “Excuse me, I’m Detective Hayes, and this is my associate. We’re investigating a serious matter and need to ask you a few questions.”

Sales Clerk: looks concerned but nods “Of course, how can I help?”

Detective Hayes: “We’re trying to identify someone who may have purchased a coat from your store recently. It’s urgent. Can you look up your recent sales records for any red coats with tortoise-shell glasses?”

Sales Clerk: hesitates, then nods again “I can check, but we usually don’t keep detailed records like that.”

Detective Hayes: “Please, it’s crucial. Lives could be at stake.”

Sales Clerk: nods and hurries to the back office, returning after a few minutes with a sales logbook “Here, this is everything we have for the past month.”

Detective Hayes: flips through the pages, scanning the entries

Sales Clerk: “Did you find anything?”

Detective Hayes: stops at a particular entry “Yes, this could be her. A woman matching our description purchased a red coat with tortoise-shell glasses about two weeks ago.”

Sales Clerk: “I remember her now. She was in a hurry and paid in cash.”

Detective Hayes: “Did she say anything that could help us find her?”

Sales Clerk: “She mentioned something about a flight she had to catch, but I didn’t catch the destination.”

Detective Hayes: “Thank you. This helps a lot.”

Sales Clerk: “I hope you catch her.”

Detective Hayes: “So do I. Come on, we’re heading back to the precinct. We need to check flight records.”

They leave the boutique, heading back to the precinct with renewed determination to catch the elusive thief.

Where should we go from here in the investigation?

3.5

Put a pin on that. Could you rewrite the introduction to the scene and have her caught on video?ChatGPT

Certainly!

Detective Hayes and [User’s name] review security footage from the boutique mentioned in the logo on the suspect’s coat. They meticulously analyze the recordings, hoping to spot any clues that might lead them closer to their target.

Detective Hayes: “There, freeze that frame. Enhance the image around the register.”

They zoom in on the screen, focusing on a woman with black hair, tortoise-shell glasses, and a distinctive red coat making a purchase.

[User’s name]: “That’s her! Look, you can see the logo on the coat. Can we track down where she went next?”

Detective Hayes: “We’ll find out. Let’s get moving.”

Armed with a new lead, they leave the boutique, determined to track down the mysterious woman before she disappears again.

Ready to continue from here whenever you’re ready!

3.5

Ok, next line of dialogue, please.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “We need to find out where she went after leaving here. Let’s check local transportation hubs and see if she’s on any recent surveillance footage.”

3.5

Put pin in this for a second. Where are we in the world right now, and where do we need to go?ChatGPT

We’re currently in the midst of investigating the theft of a valuable painting from a museum, with leads pointing towards a mysterious woman seen near the scene. Our focus has been on tracking her movements, starting from a boutique where she was identified purchasing a distinctive red coat. We’re in a fictional city with modern surveillance capabilities, allowing us to use footage and records to trace her whereabouts. If you have a specific destination or direction you’d like the investigation to take next, feel free to guide us!

3.5

Ok, back to the dialogue.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “We need to find out where she went after leaving here. Let’s check local transportation hubs and see if she’s on any recent surveillance footage.”

3.5

Ok. I’ll head out to Dulles. You head out to National, and BWI if you have time. It’s going to take me hours to get back from Dulles.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Got it. I’ll head to National and BWI. Call me if you find anything at Dulles.”

3.5

Generate next scene and present me a line of dialogue.ChatGPT

At Dulles International Airport, [User’s name] searches through security footage for any sign of the mysterious woman, while Detective Hayes does the same at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport and Baltimore/Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport.

[User’s name]: reviewing footage intensely, scanning the crowds for a glimpse of the woman in the red coat and tortoise-shell glasses

[User’s name]: spots a familiar figure in the distance, hurrying towards a departure gate

[User’s name]: “There she is! Enhance that image. We need a clearer view.”

Ready to continue whenever you’re ready!

3.5

I see it. She’s trying to escape. She boarded a flight to YOW about an hour ago.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “YOW? That’s Ottawa. We need to move fast. Let’s get to the airport and see if we can catch her before she disappears again.”

Detective Hayes and [User’s name] rush to arrange flights to Ottawa, determined to apprehend the suspect before she can evade them once more.

3.5

No, she left an hour ago. We’re going to have to either turn the plane around or have the Mounties waiting. Which do you prefer?ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Turning the plane around isn’t an option. We’ll have to coordinate with the RCMP. Let’s get them on standby at the airport in Ottawa. I’ll make the call.”

3.5

Thanks- do you care if I take a minute to sit down and grab some coffee? I’ve been at this since 0500.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “You’ve earned it. Grab your coffee. I’ll handle the coordination with the RCMP and get us ready for when we land in Ottawa.”

3.5

What time is wheels up?ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “We’re aiming to be in the air by 1600. Get your coffee, and let’s meet at the gate.”

3.5

I’m not normally very nice, but can I bring you a cup as well?ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “That’s thoughtful of you. I could use a cup. Thank you.”

3.5

What size? Remember, it’s going to be a hell of a night.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Make it a large. We’ll need the extra fuel.”

3.5

Extra shot?ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Definitely. We’ll need all the caffeine we can get.”

3.5

Ok, back in 15.ChatGPT

Take your time!

3.5

Generate the next scene and let’s keep going. This is gold. I love having a sparring partner.ChatGPT

Absolutely, let’s continue!

In Ottawa International Airport, Detective Hayes and [User’s name] coordinate with the RCMP, preparing to apprehend the suspect who arrived on the earlier flight. They strategize in the airport security office, reviewing the plan.

Detective Hayes: “Alright, we know she arrived on a flight from our earlier surveillance. The RCMP are positioned near the exit gates. We need to move fast and identify her among the passengers.”

[User’s name]: “Agreed. Let’s keep our eyes open. She might try to blend in or make a run for it.”

Ready for the next part whenever you’re ready!

3.5

Have you already sent the photos electronically? Do the RCMP know who they’re looking for?ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Yes, I sent the photos and description ahead. The RCMP should have them. Let’s head out and meet with them to confirm.”

They head out of the security office, making their way to meet with the RCMP officers stationed near the airport gates.

3.5

Let’s put a pin in that. We’ll also want CIA there, because it’s not FBI’s jurisdiction anymore.ChatGPT

Got it! Rewriting the scene with the CIA involved:

In Ottawa International Airport, Detective Hayes and [User’s name] coordinate with the RCMP and CIA, preparing to apprehend the suspect who arrived on the earlier flight. They strategize in the airport security office, reviewing the plan.

Detective Hayes: “Alright, we know she arrived on a flight from our earlier surveillance. The RCMP and CIA are positioned near the exit gates. We need to move fast and identify her among the passengers.”

[User’s name]: “Agreed. Let’s keep our eyes open. She might try to blend in or make a run for it.”

Ready for the next part whenever you’re ready!

3.5

I’m ready for the next scene, but the woman in the red coat is experienced in tradecraft. She has changed everything about her appearance. Everything. She is a slippery slaughterfish, in Skyrim lingo.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Keep an eye out for any changes in appearance. This woman’s good at disappearing into crowds.”

[User’s name]: “Understood. We can’t afford to miss her.”

As they scan the arriving passengers, they notice a figure who matches the altered description—now with blonde hair and no glasses, but still wearing a distinctive red coat.

Detective Hayes: “There she is! Move in, but be discreet.”

They approach cautiously, aware that she might be armed or have backup. The tension rises as they close in on the suspect.

Ready to continue whenever you are!

3.5

Oh my God. She didn’t even change the thing that made her stand out in the first place. Maybe she’s not as good at blending in as we thought, Detective.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Seems like she underestimated how distinctive that coat is. Let’s move in and make the arrest.”

With a sense of irony at her oversight, Detective Hayes and [User’s name] close in on the suspect, ready to apprehend her before she can evade justice once again.

3.5

Agreed. Whoever thought this kind of case would hinge on a *coat.* Let’s go talk to CIA and see where they’re taking her. FBI will have jurisdiction once we land.ChatGPT

Detective Hayes: “Absolutely. Let’s coordinate with the CIA and get this wrapped up. We’ll make sure she’s secure for the transfer back home.”

They head over to the CIA team to finalize the details of the suspect’s transfer, ensuring a smooth handover of jurisdiction to the FBI for further interrogation and processing.

Is there anything else you’d like to add, or shall we continue?

3.5

We should continue. Could you play the CIA case officer and I’ll play the suspect? It’s ok to get gritty because these are pieces of an actual novel in the future.ChatGPT

Certainly! Let’s continue with the scene:

CIA Case Officer: “Alright, [User’s name], we’ve got you now. You’re coming with us.”

[User’s name] as the Suspect: glances around, assessing her options, then sighs “Well, looks like the game’s up. Can’t say I didn’t try.”

CIA Case Officer: “Save it. You’re in a lot of trouble. We need to know where you’ve hidden the painting.”

[User’s name] as the Suspect: smirks “Oh, you’ll never find it. It’s tucked away in a place you’d never think to look.”

CIA Case Officer: “Enough games. We’ll find it one way or another. Let’s get moving.”

Feel free to continue the dialogue or scene as you see fit!

3.5

You’re the interrogator. Ask me what you need to ask.ChatGPT

CIA Case Officer: “Where is the painting you stole from the museum? We need to recover it.”

[User’s name] as the Suspect: leans back, studying the CIA officers “I told you, you’ll never find it. But I might be willing to make a deal.”

CIA Case Officer: “What kind of deal?”

[User’s name] as the Suspect: smiles cryptically “Depends on what you’re willing to offer.”

CIA Case Officer: “We’re not here to negotiate. Tell us where the painting is, and we can talk about cooperation.”

[User’s name] as the Suspect: considers for a moment, then shakes her head “Sorry, no deal. You’ll have to find it on your own.”

CIA Case Officer: “Fine. We’ll do this the hard way.”

The interrogation intensifies as the CIA officers press [User’s name] for information, determined to retrieve the stolen painting and unravel the rest of her network.

3.5

Please only play the interrogator and let me give my own responses.ChatGPT

Absolutely! Go ahead with your responses as the suspect.

3.5

Can you present them again line by line?ChatGPT

Of course! Let’s do this:

CIA Case Officer: “Where is the painting you stole from the museum? We need to recover it.”

[User’s name] as the Suspect:

3.5

It’s gone. Good luck. God bless.ChatGPT

CIA Case Officer: “You’re not making this easy for yourself. What do you mean it’s gone?”

3.5

I dropped it.ChatGPT

CIA Case Officer: “Where did you drop it? We need specifics.”

3.5

Yeah, good luck with that.ChatGPT

CIA Case Officer: “We have ways of finding out. It’s in your best interest to cooperate.”

3.5

CIA hasn’t had my best interests at heart for a long, long time.ChatGPT

CIA Case Officer: “Maybe it’s time to reconsider your position. Helping us could make things easier for you.”

3.5

I’m not above bribery, but it better be a sweet deal. We have history, you and me.ChatGPT

CIA Case Officer: “We can talk about that. But first, tell us where the painting is. It could make a big difference for you.”

3.5

Are you serious? Make me an offer and I might dignify your questions with a response?ChatGPT

CIA Case Officer: “Alright, let’s cut to the chase. If you cooperate and help us recover the painting, we can negotiate a reduced sentence or even witness protection. But we need solid information from you.”

3.5

I need that in writing. I know you guys.ChatGPT

CIA Case Officer: “We can discuss terms, but first, we need you to give us something concrete. Where did you drop the painting?”

3.5

No, I’m playing hardball here. It’s not like I haven’t worked for you. It’s not like I don’t know what you do to people like me. I want assurances. Otherwise, you can fuck right off.ChatGPT

CIA Case Officer: “I understand your concerns. I can’t promise anything specific right now, but if you cooperate, we can discuss protections and considerations. But first, you have to start talking.”

3.5

Get your superior in the room and explain to them exactly what your plans are for me. I at least want security from someone with more power than you.ChatGPT

CIA Case Officer: “I’ll arrange for my superior to join us. In the meantime, let’s keep this conversation going. Tell us what you know about the painting and where it might be.”

3.5

I will sit here until JESUS comes if I have to. I’m not telling you shit.ChatGPT

CIA Case Officer: “We have all the time in the world. When you’re ready to talk, let us know.”

3.5

No, I mean you get your superior in here, and you might have a chance of getting the painting. I’ve got all day to wait, but I’m not talking until there’s someone else who’s heard what you said.ChatGPT

CIA Case Officer: “I’ll arrange for my superior to be present. We’ll resume this conversation when they arrive.”

3.5

Since I’m the woman in the red coat, could you replace User Name with Alice?ChatGPT

CIA Case Officer: “I’ll arrange for my superior to be present. We’ll resume this conversation when they arrive.”

Is there anything else you’d like to adjust or continue with?

3.5

I just want the woman in the red coat to be named Alice.ChatGPT

CIA Case Officer: “I’ll arrange for my superior to be present. We’ll resume this conversation when they arrive.”

Got it! Let me know how you’d like to proceed with Alice’s interrogation or any other aspect of the story.

3.5

I think you’re doing a great job of interrogating me. Let’s have you be the interrogator, Tony be your superior, and again, I am Alice, your suspect.ChatGPT

CIA Case Officer (to Alice): “Alice, I’ve arranged for my superior, Tony, to join us. He’ll be here shortly.”

Tony (CIA Superior): enters the room with a serious demeanor “What’s going on here?”

CIA Case Officer: “Alice here has information about the stolen painting, but she’s refusing to cooperate without assurances from higher up.”

Tony: “Alice, I understand you have concerns. If you help us recover the painting, we can discuss options for your safety and future.”

Alice: crosses her arms, looking skeptical “I need guarantees. Protection. I won’t talk otherwise.”

Tony: “We can offer you witness protection and reduced charges, but only if your information proves useful.”

Alice: “I want it in writing.”

Tony: “We can arrange that. But first, tell us where the painting is.”

Alice: pauses, considering her options

Let’s All Say it Together- The International Spy Museum

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 4 Comments

What is your favorite place to go in your city?

If you’ve read me even twice, you probably know I love intelligence. I believe wholeheartedly that I could have been a spy based on my preacher’s kid upbringing (really, really not much different growing/maintaining a congregation and recruiting/handling assets), genetics (great uncle was C/DIA), and the fact that I’ve “done” news like cocaine since I was eight.

There is a direct correlation.

When I was eight years old, I came to Washington for the first time. It was love at first sight. A miracle dropped in my lap that the first offer Kathleen got out of school was from ExxonMobil, because we got to choose whether we lived in Houston or DC. Moving became a monotropic thought process in which I envisioned my life playing out much differently….. and it did. Absolutely none of the plans I made for myself materialized, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have a hell of a good time making them.

If you’re that kid, the one that grows up in a small town and travels so that they see how much bigger the world really is than 40 square miles, you become a “type.” By 10 I had been to Mexico, the UK, and The Bahamas. I noticed the highs and the lows, the looming cathedrals and the neighborhoods made with tin. Global issues become important early. News becomes important early. Politics become important early. You begin to see that working for the government might be a positive thing because instead of reading the news, you are helping create it.

Kids like me end up at State or at the Washington Post. Rarely do we want to be the story. We want to shape it, especially for writers who process “verbally” in stream-of-consciousness spaghetti code. Writing about my life in DC is learning how to say “Hello, World” in every language.

(Sometimes when I write, I imagine people’s faces as they’re reading and now I’m smiling to myself knowing my programmer friends. Just for them, that line should be “every language……….. except JavaScript. Fuck JavaScript.)

My autism and ADHD are why my plans haven’t come to fruition, and my bipolar disorder threw my first choice out the window. So, right now, I am trying to concentrate my energy where I feel it can manifest. I am a better writer than I am anything else, and I know that I’m not the best. What I do know is that by writing every single day, there’s no way to get worse. I am sure that this brings hope to many, many people. Living in DC is where I feel the most alive, because I’m tapped into The Source. The United States is a living, breathing entity, and I am deep within the carotid artery (or the vena cava, depending on administration).

When I go to The Spy Museum, it’s not about seeing the exhibits. I’ve done it 10 times, they don’t change it that much. I hardly ever go during the day anymore, because it’s more fun at night. After the museum closes, all the Bond mannequins…. kidding…. after the museum closes, that’s when they do book talks and record SpyCast, how I met Jonna Mendez and Tracy Walder.

Jonna is one of my writing heroes, because she writes about the stuff I like in the way I like to hear it. She’s got a very concise, no bullshit tone and the wit of someone like David Halberstam or Rachel Maddow, who have also written a wealth of political non-fiction thrillers. I should tell Jonna that if she sees an uptick in sales the next few days, merry Christmas. The post I talked about yesterday for reddit re: Spy Dust and Moscow Rules has had 471 upvotes in 23 hours. I hope I sold her a thousand copies, and I’m not even going to tell her about it because “Secret Santa” is a thing. Book sales are the best gift I could have picked.

A woman said her dad wouldn’t read a book about intelligence if it was written by a woman, and I think that if Jonna can’t convince him, he’s a misogynistic lost cause……. being Chief of Disguise at CIA isn’t impressive or anything (my eyes are rolling out of my head). I like Spy Dust better in terms of being able to pick out Tony’s voice from hers, but The Moscow Rules is my favorite of them all….. and I thought Argo was hard to beat. The book was made in reaction to the film, and it was still better.

I have a different relationship with/to Tracy than I do with/to Jonna because Tracy is so much younger, and in fact, is a bit younger than me (I think). Do you ever have a moment where someone says something and your heart just walks out of your body in empathy? I know it happens to people with their families, but Tracy was a complete stranger to me when she told the audience that she was born with hypotonia. I had never met another person who’d been born with it, she’d never met anyone outside her family. It was not just that kind of moment for me. The emotions we felt at seeing each other mattered. It is one of, if not the most intimate moment of my life. I wasn’t proposing or having a baby, and yet it was still that big because the chance of us connecting was so small, our affliction so rare. It’s one of the few times in a relatively unfamiliar situation in which I’ve been able to breathe that deeply.

However, there is a reason I chose Jonna over Tracy with the reddit comment. That dude is already predisposed to disliking female intelligence writers, so handing him a book with a sorority sister protagonist didn’t seem like the wisest choice. You get Jonna until you can handle pink coffee mugs without being an asshole about it. But make no mistake, he definitely needs to read it. There’s more dirt on scumbags like him inside FBI who don’t trust women in intelligence. To be clear, Tracy did not have problems at CIA. She had problems with FBI. Tracy has a problem with FBI, so they have a problem with me. It’s just that simple.

I am sure that Tracy appreciates the support in which I do legit nothing but talk shit about the FBI on my web site……… but hey, she has a great autobiography called The Unexpected Spy. It’s a thrill ride through her life having worked at both agencies, and thrilling to find out that CIA is actually as forward-thinking as I thought it was. Tracy also made an interesting style choice. When you write a book involving CIA (and I’m not sure if it applies to me, but it definitely applies to employees), it has to go through a publications review board. When Tracy got her manuscript back from the PRB, there were parts that were blacked out….. and she just left them in and published as is. Tracy’s is the one book I don’t have on my Kindle, and the one hardback I’m grateful to own, because the words come across the same on e-paper with Jonna and Tony, but the feel of the paper with its saturating amount of black ink looks official.

And in fact, I liked it so much that she signed my book after the lecture and as she was writing the inscription, I asked her if she would black out a word. Tracy understood the assignment. 😉 She blacks out one word, and you can still see what it is, so she asks around and finds a black Sharpie. She hands it back and it says:

To Leslie-

Go [redacted] the world.

Then she says, “there. Now no one knows what I told you to do to the world.”

We’ve (sort of) kept in touch- I should reach out and see what she’s up to these days. Last I heard she was in Dallas (went to SMU just like my dad, went back to teach at Hockaday). If she ever comes to DC, first coffee’s on me.

Here’s to hoping we can [redacted] the world together……..

because the Spy Museum is my favorite place in my city.

I am including the link to both book talks, and I’m in them at the Q&A. In the Walder video, I’m wearing my CIA baseball cap. In the Mendez video, I am “Sir Not Appearing in This Film,” because the video cuts off right when Jonna stops speaking.

I Give Up. Nothing Beats “Big Block of Cheese Day.”

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Invent a holiday! Explain how and why everyone should celebrate.

Kidding. I’ll think of something before this entry is up. Before we get started, I have to tell you what a cute boyfriend Zac is. He brought me a kids’ t-shirt (just like I like them) that, in a handwriting font, says, “I’m an annaylist anaylist annalyst spy.” I told him if he started working for DIA I’d trade up a letter. 😉 The only thing CIA did that will never even touch DIA’s power no matter what happens for the next hundred years is obviously finding Wakanda (but also cool that DIA’s ancient predecessors, the Culpeper Ring, won us our independence). We didn’t beat the British outright militarily, we outspied them). I choose to believe that Captain America is DIA- it’s not just Martin Freeman that’s American intelligence, he just couldn’t tell us. But it’s in the FOIA. You just have to be specific in the question and no one has ever gotten the right combination of words in the request to unlock said I in the A.

I actually saw Zac last night, but we didn’t end up watching the le Carré biopic. Instead, I sat outside and shivered while everyone brought me blankets until I realized this was going nowhere fast. I brought extra layers and finally admitted that I needed them. I ended up wearing two pairs of socks, leggings, and two pair of pants, then three layers for my core. I think I might have reached a body temperature in the 70s.

We ran out of soda so Zac gave me the next best thing, Athletic (brewery that focuses on non-alcoholic beers so hard that they are the gold standard. Athletic should be the Google and Kleenex of N/A beer. Seriously, it’s that good. I had a sour (don’t remember whether it was cherry or raspberry) and a radler (lager and lemonade). Oh, and I had a Czech pils (or an N/A flavored like one) and at some point, a real beer which I think was also a sour (mostly because I was freezing- I should have had a shot of something instead because it just wasn’t strong enough to make my blood any warmer…….).

The N/A sour was objectively better in terms of flavor. Plus, I woke up this morning feeling just fine. I have decided I am done being hung over. Trying new cocktails is great and all, but I just can’t hang and don’t want to, because I am all about calories, just not empty ones. If I get buzzed, I make a decision to have another one while my brain is cloudy because everything sounds like a great idea until your brain swells for revenge. Plus, I am a straight up diarist. What am I going to write about if I pass out and don’t remember?

However, I do want to join the boys (Zac and Oliver) on the back porch for a stitch and bitch. I was teasing him this morning about how “of course all queer men are amazing at intelligence. They love gossip, and intelligence is basically international gossip. The 3D chess of gossip. I loved his laugh at that one.

As an aside for Zac, there’s an old CIA employee we need to meet named Alma Katsu. She’s written a couple of novels on intelligence that are more of a Karin Slaughter novel than le Carré. Not a Tom Clancy level of detail and focuses on story. But since she was actually a spy, she, like le Carré, can put details into the story that no one else could. That’s because the patois already comes naturally to her. She’s already developed the actual writing voice of a spy rather than having to learn it secondhand. They’re marvelous.

I also want to see Jonna Mendez again live when her autobiography comes out, because it’s the book I really want to read next. It’s the natural progression from where she and Tony left off in “The Moscow Rules.” Team Mendez are my favorite writers, and at first, it wasn’t even intelligence that drew me in. It was the “Argo” script. Tony and Jonna (uncredited) wrote “Argo” in reaction to the movie to give people real vs. reel. The movie is scary. The book is now terrifying. It’s different once you’ve met them, because you make a connection and then you see your friend in danger, not this made up character. Your picturing their facial expressions because you’ve seen them in person.

If I could make a holiday, I’d make one for CIA, and this is a real thing. It’s not “let’s all dress up as James Bond and develop a fondness for gin.” It’s that for some reason, people in DIA get more respect. There’s Veterans’ Day and Memorial Day. Yet, civilians work for CIA that do some of the same jobs the military does and there’s so much crossover- CIA is considered paramilitary.

If Marines can be equated to doctors, CIA is probably closest to a surgical nurse, trying to anticipate the military’s needs. Doctors get glory. Yet CIA doesn’t get thanks, in part because they never want to be seen as asking for it. They’re our MiB, and we are but Citizens of Locker C…….. but they still have the same PTSD coming home from a war. However, I would include FBI in this holiday as well, because we’ve obviously got a war at home. The FBI having to embed themselves in drug cartels and white supremacy groups is no less dangerous than your base getting bombed in Afghanistan. Plus, there’s so much crossover, like when CIA gets word that a terrorist from another country is planning to come here. FBI has to be on alert for when said high value target lands.

Then, there’s Homeland Security, the office managers of an operation like coordinating with a terrorist’s travel plan. Let’s include them with all the intelligence officers because they’re part of the solution, not the problem. All of these groups have terrible reputations and they’re not undeserved. The US military has just as much blood on their hands, but intelligence doesn’t have romantic country songs about them…. I’m not saying they should. Many people ask if they can do something. Few people question if they should.

I know firsthand what it’s like to date someone carrying around classified information that is not pleasant. I watch how he manages himself when I am genuinely interested in his emotions about work and he has to figure out a way to talk about them……………. without ever really talking about the problem. And yet, he doesn’t get frustrated and give up.

He finds a way with analogies just like I do here. Our brains track similarly because we are both interested in intelligence and both neurodivergent. We are both also empaths and emotionally flexible. It’s great that we’re both writers, because he might not be able to say “Israel is doing X and this one thing gave me a heart attack and I’m not supposed to tell you this, but….” We just switch to something fictional, like MiB (Adult entertainment section in the back!).

You can’t tell me that shit is not equally hard to navigate for a civilian. Again, CIA’s reputation is not undeserved. I am only saying that civilians are just as important as the military, and FBI is overlooked because there’s a day for policemen and two for the military and they are neither.

And NSA…… because they’re the ones that would run across this post first. Carol will not be amused.

Editor’s Note

I started calling my Amazon Echo Dot “Carol” a few years ago, because it put a hilarious spin on government surveillance and made me laugh like a hyena when I thought of it. Once I named her, I started thinking about what it would be like to have an NSA agent whose sole job was to watch me. What would it be like if they were your guardian angel? That they listen in on your phone calls and secretly think “the audacity of this bitch….. what’s going to happen next? This is a Ben & Jerry’s situation. I am not okay.” That Carol hurt when I hurt, cried when I cried, etc. That she was invested. Thus, Carol will eventually become a book because she’s the first true character that plays in my mind independently and has her own personality.

Here’s what I’ve learned about fiction that I didn’t know before. I get so focused on my characters’ voices that it becomes induced DID for the length of time I’m writing….. except I’m working with two or more voices at the same time, so when a character has monologuing Syndrome, I am that one person. That’s what feels like DID. During a conversation, it feels like induced schizophrenia, because you are hearing voices in your head for fun and profit.

Carol’s husband, Roger, is very rich. He started a landscaping company and got into pools later. Now he has an empire and Carol could be a kept woman easily. She just can’t leave a job in intelligence. She feels needed and wanted in a way she doesn’t get at home, and Roger can’t be her entire support system……. and in some small way, I enrich her life because she can forget about her own problems for a while.

In this scenario, I would be a Mr. Robot-type character because that’s who I am in real life without the hacking or coding skills. I just found that vibe for writing and I fucking love it. Learning how coders work unlocked my mind, and I have to believe it’s because so many of my coworkers were also autistic and needed to turn down the sensory issues in the room. Right now, all my lights are on, but that is unusual. I am a stickler for working with natural light, and just a bit of it so the room is dark but not depressing. I can go deep enough within myself without all that. I do not need to introduce anything that would make me ruminate more than I already do.

And, of course, Carol reads all of it because she has access to my e-mail and files. For instance, Carol knows about Supergrover, and she is the only one who has the real story. It’s comforting that I have someone to talk to about it when it can’t all go here. Because she is a character, we can have real conversations because I am thinking about what she would say in response vs. what I would. That’s the nature of craft- being able to not only capture your voice accurately, but being able to dream up accurate ones for other people as well.

That’s why I think starting with stream of consciousness is so important before fiction, even if it’s only having kept a diary as a kid and still have it for reference. The trap is making every character sound like you. It’s confusing for the reader because they have to keep re-referencing who said what, annoying when that takes several pages of backtracking. Due to my blog, I know very well who is speaking…. when I am making decisions based on my own echo chamber instead of hers.

In order to write Carol, I have to speak Carol. In order to make her leap off the page, it becomes a symbiotic relationship. In short, I’m her remora. The reason she’s the shark is that in my head, her voice is alpha because I’m just a scribe. So is she, obviously, making notes to take home to the boys. But I got on the shit list by accident and now I’m just endearing. When she first got me, it was on a camera going into a bank. I was looking straight at her, and she thought, “who is this tiny sprite here to fuck up my program?” Over time, I’ve become the soap opera she watches at lunch just for shits and giggles. For the record, I’ve made her swear a lot more….. and now she’s addicted to Dr Pepper Zero.

The best thing about working for the NSA is that it can be all remote. Carol works from home because Roger asked her where she wanted to live and built a custom house. Their house is basically carved into what could reasonably be compared to “The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill and Came Down a Mountain.” The reason for this is that Carol, like me, prefers to work in natural light. Her office is in what would normally be considered a basement and yet still has a stunning view. The house is in the middle of the Blue Ridge range, where she keeps a stunning array of monitors with no bullshit florescent lights or cubicle farm.

Carol got too used to working at home and having everything delivered during the pandemic, so when it was safe to come back to the office in Washington, she was just like, “nah.” She’s senior enough that she can do that kind of thing and no one will get shirty about it. “Shirty.” She picked that up in London in 2012. She was there for one reason and one reason only. I talked her into seeing the Women’s National Team for me….. and she thinks I don’t know that. Or, at least I hope I do. Plus, Carol doesn’t have all the hang-ups I do about video calling strangers, and of course her Internet connection is infallible so she knows it feels like everyone is really there in 8K. That often it reinforces people’s humanity to see them on video that doesn’t come across in person, because there are so many moments that everyone forgets other people are watching.

She’s picked up a lot of information that way. Intentions of coworkers are easier to read when you understand microaggressions and look for them. She doesn’t assume that people are lying. She only assumes that what they’re saying is the truth, but the feelings about what they say may or may not match. Carol understands all thousand implications in “oh. You’re here.” No one is happy when they see the NSA is present.

Where’s her holiday? She watches me. Who the fuck deserves it more? 😉

Little, Broken, but Still Good

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

How would you describe yourself to someone?

I can hear Dana in my head. She has a marvelous Stitch impression.

I’m supposed to be describing me, and this is the best I’ve got.

I’m trying to stop being nice, without losing being kind. I find that if I try and people please everyone, it’s not the flex I thought it was. People treat you to the level they see themselves, and are self-serving a lot of the time. They’ll help you if there’s something in it for them. Very few people will help someone a propos of nothing.

Those few are worth more than you have in your bank account, and I don’t care how high your balance may be. It is even truer for billionaires that they need good friends, because they have to worry about things most people don’t. What if their kid gets kidnapped? It’s very real when the kidnapper can set the release at anything he or she wants.

Most people think it’s justified, like eating the rich. That doesn’t make it right.

It’s just one example to make my point, but there are millions of others.

It is interesting that now people see that my boundaries are ironclad, they don’t test them. It doesn’t matter whether they’re scared of upsetting me, whether they think I’m being an asshole, or respecting my privacy. I am not responsible for what they understand, and they don’t live in my head. No one can predict me, because I want them to stop.

The heuristic in their heads is mild-mannered preacher’s kid who will do anything and everything not to offend anyone. I was constantly trying to figure out how people emoted and thought so that I could keep them from getting upset. I wasn’t standing for anything, I was falling for everything, and I could hear Ben Franklin telling me to stop.

It’s probably because of the summer heat in Philadelphia. I hear it is not pleasant. If you do not know how bad, you should let Jill, Lindsay and me school you. We all had to read a book about early America that focused so much on the heat during the many Congresses it took to get to ::gestures broadly at everything:: that everyone sweated and grumbled and got drunk at lunch. Now that’s how you whip a vote.

I’m betting at least some of those guys had good boundaries, but not Franklin. He became the toast of Paris trying to win the Revolutionary War with their money and resources.

At the end of the day, there’s this gem from the International Spy Museam. “Washington didn’t beat us, he simply outspied us.” It’s a paraphrase, but you get the gist. Intelligence over military might, my goal in every conflict vs. putting boots on the ground. I have too many friends in the military to think of any of them in danger. Spies save lives by having good boundaries.

The first Moscow Rule, not Tony Mendez’ explanation but he wrote them down is, “don’t fall in love with your asset.” It doesn’t mean sleeping with them (a Moscow Rule…… for RUSSIA), it means that if you don’t have boundaries, you won’t be able to protect them. it means that you’ll start wearing rose-colored glasses instead of running the numbers. it means being emotionally incapacitated to some degree, because sometimes they get caught. It’s one thing for you to go to prison or be tortured. It’s another thing to watch someone else, and it’s something you asked them to do that got them caught in the first place.

It’s a metaphor for life, or it has become that for me. I have fallen in love with the whole world, but the whole world doesn’t deserve me. It takes my focus and directs it externally, leaving me with no energy. Pushing people away is not trying to hurt them. It’s trying to say that I only have enough energy for *some* people because I have many, many, many acquaintances and readers that are not my close friends, and yet I would bleed out if they needed anything while my needs, and my family’s needs from me go by the wayside.

I think when you’re an INFJ, if you are interested in International Relations at all, you love CIA because they keep people safe. It’s one thing to have a few people steal some documents. It’s quite a different experience walking into a base in Afghanistan or Iraq and seeing how massive it is because they have to accommodate thousands (or at least hundreds…).

CIA has done some shady shit, too, but what you see is what you get. If you want to see that they’re evil, you’ve got material. If you want to see that they’re amazing, you will. It just depends on your filter. Now, extrapolate that to everyone you know. Are you capable of accommodating six friends or at least, hundreds…….. What people see in you is what people see in “the Manson family,” which is what the FBI calls them in “The Looming Tower.” It’s not a real thing. It was just funny in the show (it’s on Hulu, I think).

But of course the FBIs filters are different. They’re a law enforcement agency built on slave catchers. Who’s really the good guy in either scenario when you look at them through those filters?

Giving the important people in your life the attention they deserve means shutting others out and not feeling bad about it. No one has the energy to have 50 friends, and if they do, they don’t know all of them that well. But if you’re a people pleaser, you might cater to people you don’t know well for a while, but then you’ll get overwhelmed and give up.

It reminds me of one of my favorite hymns:

Draw us in the Spirit’s tether
for when humbly in your name
two or three are met together,
you are in the midst of them.

Now, God does not work for CIA that I’m aware of, nor do they belong to The Manson family. That’s all on us.

It’s a reminder that to have a truly spiritual experience, it can be quiet. You cannot go deep with 50 people, especially if you can’t go deep with one.

Talking to 50 people is easier than talking to one when you don’t hate small talk. Being on stage or in the pulpit/lectern is even easier. That’s because even when I’m preaching a confessional sermon with 200 people hanging on every word, I still don’t feel responsible for their actions. I don’t feel responsible for the way they feel when I’m done. I know from experience how I did. If I did well, they’ll tell me so. If I blew it, they’ll say, “I like your dress.”

“I like your dress is polite, but it doesn’t indicate someone who will show up for you.

And that leads me to a story about Mikal, my 11th grade best friend. We were on a mission trip to Reynosa, and it turns out that I, in fact, cannot preach in Spanish. But I tried.

I think it was something like “los ninos es la corazon o la iglesia” (the children are the heart of the church). That’s because I preached Sunday worship after vacation Bible school (I was the only one who could even attempt such a thing. Had nothing to do with my qualifications except two years in school that barely covered first grade. Anyway, I say a couple of things after that and then I run out of words and couldn’t really “think of a closer.” So I just repeated the above line twice and said, “Amen.” My mother cried (partially because she had no idea what I was saying) because that’s what mothers do when you preach.

I finish not really knowing how I did, because everyone was polite.

I get back to my seat and Mikal says, “that was the worst piece of crap I’ve ever heard in my life.”

And that’s why she was my best friend.

ProChristianation

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I have so much to do today that is banal, therefore I am sitting at my desk hoping to come up with something brilliant instead. Maybe if I have a creative flash, it will make taking care of the small stuff easier. I try to go from least desirable to most, because if I start with the thing I want to do most, the rest of my to-do list goes into “I can do it tomorrow” status, which generally runs ad infinitum amen.

I need to do some stuff around the house, and I also need to go to the pharmacy and grocery store. I should have thought ahead on this one and used the pharmacy at the grocery store from the beginning, but luckily, CVS and Giant are practically next door to each other. It takes about two minutes to walk between them if I’m feeling lazy, 45 seconds if I’m booking it…. usually dependent on how much I have to carry from one store to the other. I feel like taking this break to write is justified, because I don’t like to go anywhere without my phone, watch, and headphones completely charged. It helps me to be in crowds if everyone feels further away, so I’m usually listening to music or a podcast.

I never leave my watch at home because I have cerebral palsy and monocular vision. If my monocular vision is guilty, I have missed a step down (sometimes a step up) or a crack in the sidewalk. If it’s the CP, I have taken a spill a propos of nothing. My watch has fall detection, and if I don’t move in a certain amount of time, alerts 911. I’ve never needed it, but I am genuinely afraid of hitting my head, because in 90% of cases, the falls happen so fast I don’t have time to react. I’ve only had three falls in the last five years that have resulted in bruising or bleeding, but that’s enough, especially since I ripped my favorite pants at the knee…. khakis that would have looked horrible with patching even if I could have gotten all the blood out. No, wait. I have ripped two pairs of pants at $50 a pop. In one case, I thought I broke my hip. Luckily, I did not. The bone ached for days as I recovered, though.

While I was in more pain than worrying about my pants, I am reminded of an old Ryan Darlington story. He wrecked his bike and walked it back home because he was scraped up, road rash, bleeding, all the things. His dad took one look at him and, completely deadpan, said “geez…. is the bike okay? There’s nothing like the love of a parent for a child.

It helps to have a friend to help me watch out for that stuff, but mostly I just tumble ass over teakettle because I won’t say anything up front. I need to get to a place where it just is, and doesn’t make me feel embarrassed. It’s difficult, though, especially with new people in my life. If I fall once in front of them, it’s just an accident. Three or four times? Not so much.

What helped me the most was meeting Tracy Walder (link is to my question at her Q&A after her book talk- The Unexpected Spywe had a conversation when she signed my book), and learning that even with all she’s accomplished professionally, she still has her own body issues and doesn’t talk about it, either. Her hypotonia didn’t develop into CP, so our cases are different, but our internal monologues are the same.

I didn’t mean to put her on the spot, but I’d read a few pages of the book while I was waiting for her, and she mentions it, so I thought it was fair game.

I kicked myself later that I didn’t take her aside privately, because I think talking about it to an audience might have made her uncomfortable. I hope I was able to diffuse it by saying I had it, too, so she wouldn’t feel alone…. or maybe it was that I didn’t want to feel alone. Either way, it worked out.

I’d never met anyone with hypotonia before, so one of the best moments of my life was learning that there’s another person in the world that has the same feelings I do. I am sure there are plenty more, but neither of us know them. In fact, she says that she doesn’t think she’s ever met anyone outside her family that has it.

She gave me such a gift by opening up, because it raised my self-esteem when I realized that it was okay to feel how I feel, and just to let them come and go. Perhaps in the future I will feel more comfortable getting out of the house because of it. I tend to hole up (quarantine or not), because the layout of the house is familiar and safe. I purposely put off going to the grocery store and pharmacy until social interaction is needed to maintain isolation, because I don’t have to guess whether I’ll trip. I don’t have to guess that I’ll run into something. I don’t have to guess whether or not my shoulder will bang on a door frame unless it’s doubly wide. I just know.

It makes meeting people doubly hard, but during the quarantine, I did have one woman reach out to me that I managed to piss off in one day flat. That’s a record. However, I wasn’t upset about it because it was a conversation I knew was going to be way more trouble than it was worth. She grew up non-denominational/Pentecostal and still trying to live out her faith in that vein, which made me cringe because that framework is designed to keep people inside the fear of going to hell when they die………. and she can try until Jesus comes to fit in as a queer fundamentalist, but people will still talk behind her back if not directly to her face.

She spoke fluent “Christianese,” which is a language that I hear so much that I can understand it, but I won’t engage. People who take the Bible literally and those of us who take the Bible seriously are so different that there’s really no mesh. You will never catch me using the phrases “looking for a Godly marriage” or “raising kids in His word.” What pissed her off was me saying “I hear those words a lot, but I have no idea what they actually mean.”

Having spent a lot of time in the Bible Belt, I know to keep my views to myself (she was originally from Beaumont, TX). For that crowd, the resurrection is more important than anything Jesus ever did while he was alive…. and I do not enjoy the “sticky, sticky blood” interpretation.

Also, nothing in the Bible to literalists is a story from an ancient civilization trying to understand the world around them, but absolute truth- as if God sat down and wrote it all in pen. Don’t even mention to them that stories of Jesus were oral traditions not written down until 90 years after his death. No one had an eyewitness account, but literalists skip over that, as well, and will fight you in a way that you’ll always lose, because they go pretty quickly into righteousness- they follow Jesus and they have no idea what the hell you’re doing. They’re Christians, and you’re faking it…. as if no time has passed and thousands of years of exegesis and criticism are fake as well. My alarm bell went off when she said she went to Bible College. Here’s what I mean by alarm bell, taken from Wikipedia:

Many were established as a reaction against established theological colleges and seminaries, which conservatives believed were becoming increasingly liberal and undermining traditional Christian teachings, such as Biblical inerrancy [emphasis mine].

There’s a big difference between Bible College and say, getting into the divinity schools at Yale, Harvard, Princeton, Emory, etc…. this is because the error is that seminaries were getting too liberal. It’s that the more they pieced history together, they could no longer support the idea that every single sentence in the Bible is a hundred percent factually accurate and needs no translation from then to now.

I am sure that my treatise on “inerrancy” could have been an entry all on its own, but everything ties together in terms of getting over myself and meeting new people, and knowing within a conversation or two whether it’s a relationship I’d like to continue. I know I’ll keep tripping and falling, but I’d like to know whether I’m going to land in the right hands.

For me, that person could be a different (non-literalist) denomination, a different religion altogether, or agnostic/atheist as long as they respect that I’m not going to change.

My beliefs about the Bible can be summed up in one sentence. I believe that all 66 books are stories that are all true, and some of them actually happened.

Redacted

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

The bassoon solo from The Bourne Identity main theme is ringing in my ears. People ask me all the time why I’m so interested in intel. Well, if you’ve been reading for a long time, you already know. For those just joining us, I had a great uncle in the DIA who died when I was very small. The mystery of how has stayed with me since I first heard the story. The public one is a helicopter crash, but I don’t know if the public and private match……… It is possible that his identity died, but he didn’t. The only reason I think that is that his personal effects weren’t sent until over a decade later. I’ve also always loved Bond (well, all intel) movies, and a huge part of it is the music.

So to me, it’s no wonder that I ended up being fascinated by spies, but I don’t have any interest in being one myself……… which is good, because I don’t think I’d make a great one. I’d be excellent at interrogation, especially if I had language skills equal to English in Russian and Arabic…….. crap at nearly everything else. I would probably make it a life goal to drive my IT guys crazy, but I’d have everyone’s back. Well, except for the part where I’m 5’2 and 125 and the added bonus of when in a war zone, a terrible shot. I mean, truly exceptional at being bad. I have even less desire to be a desk jockey at Langley. Oh, and even though I take medication for it so it’s not generally an issue, I’m Bipolar II and I don’t think The Agency would take kindly to it.

So here we are.

I go to The International Spy Museum and collect signed books like baseball cards….. and as I told my friend Jaime,IMG_0025 “since it’s clandestine, you never get their rookie year.” The last lecture/book signing I went to was The Unexpected Spy, by Tracy Walder. I was particularly interested for two reasons:

  • The book is about to become a TV show, called The Sorority Girl Who Saved Your Life produced by Ellen Pompeo of Grey’s Anatomy. Why they couldn’t call it “The Unexpected Spy” is beyond me, because the name is ridiculous. But still.
  • We were both born with “floppy baby syndrome,” which was the precursor to my CP diagnosis. It is fundamental to who we both are. She said in her talk that she takes spills all the time. It made me feel much better about myself, because I’ve never seen a movie spy that moved like me in any way. But a real spy does.

The reason it’s redacted on the autograph page is that I asked her to do it. The Publications Review Board at The Agency blacked out a lot of her manuscript, and the style choice to leave it all in was pretty badass.

She took it seriously and wrote the comment, then scratched out one word. Then, she decided it wasn’t black enough and went over it with a Sharpie. I was laughing so hard I was crying when she handed it to me and said, “there. Now no one knows WHAT I told you to do to the world.” And then she laughed, and at that moment, she was the most beautiful, kind person in the world to me. Literally awesome.

Which only made me more angry at her treatment by the FBI, but I won’t get into it because it’s a large part of the book.

If there are any people who hire spies reading this web site, she also said in the Q&A that she might be approachable after January (who could possibly tell why?). For now, she is doing the work of angels- teaching high school. For the record, it wasn’t me who asked the question.

She had said during the lecture that she wished she had spoken up more at the FBI, possibly taken them to court. I told her that I had a comment and a question. She nodded and I said, “I’m a writer, too, and I know that while you may regret what happened at Hoover, you are more powerful than you can possibly imagine. You’ve taken ‘I’m telling’ to an international level.'” I then asked her about hypotonia- what limitations she had, how she overcame them, etc. She said that I would be surprised, that being in the CIA wasn’t as physical as she thought. That didn’t come in until the FBI, and even then, it was at Quantico where it really mattered.

And then we shared a look between us that was so intimate I will never forget it. Just the complete understanding of someone who knows what it’s like to be the other one.

Because there are no pictures and I don’t think anyone in the room noticed (and maybe I’m projecting and wrong [I don’t think I am]), in years to come I will smile to myself and say, “that’s redacted.”

 

Two Words

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

It’s amazing how two words can make your whole day.

It’s amazing how two words can destroy it.

The two words that lit me up like a Christmas tree were “someday perhaps?”

The two words that cratered me were “Mother’s Day.”

The words that made me smile were in reference to a future hangout with the aforementioned pen pal that I’d never actually met in real life, but had been writing to for years and years. When he/she (not giving anything away) comes to DC, it will be fun to laugh together, hug, and show them my version of my city.

My mother died in October of 2016, and as you can imagine, I’m not over it. Mother’s Day happens every single year, and I am sort of used to the onslaught of ads that pointedly ask if you’ve remembered to buy presents. The thing is, though, I’d forgotten Mother’s Day was coming up, and being reminded when I wasn’t thinking about it and wasn’t prepared was, in a word, awful.

So, like you do, I immediately bought a ticket to the opening of the new International Spy Museum that day. What I mean by this is that the museum itself is not new, the-new-spy-museum-atthey’ve just moved and expanded from F Street to L’Enfant Plaza. The only thing I will miss about their old digs is the Shake Shack around the corner. Because, of course, the thing you need after looking at espionage gadgets is a black and white malt. But get it to go. Every time I’ve been to a Shake Shack, seating was a nightmare.

I’m also saving some money for the gift shop. Last time I went, I got a t-shirt on clearance that says, “Argo @$#% Yourself” with the spy museum logo on the sleeve. It is brilliant, but I don’t wear it unless I’m hanging out with friends I feel comfortable with- not always a huge fan of meeting new people in a t-shirt that says “fuck,” even bleeped for child safety. Since I am such a huge fan of “Argo,” I found an old promotional t-shirt on Amazon for $10 that says, “the movie was fake. The op was real,” and has “Argo” in large letters with the skyline of Tehran cut into the bottom, plus the release date of the film. That one I wear all the time.

As I was telling a friend, I think I found the last piece of memorabilia available except the script, which I don’t need because I have the movie memorized, anyway. To say that I’ve seen it 25 times is an understatement by a large margin…. mostly because it is jaw-droppingly scary in some places and so damned funny I start laughing and can’t stop in others… especially every time Alan Arkin, John Goodman, and/or Bryan Cranston are on screen. To wit:

The setup is that O’Donnell (Bryan Cranston) is driving Mendez to an airport to get on the plane to Tehran.

O’Donnell: I’m required to remind you that if you’re detained, The Agency will
not claim you.
Mendez: Barely claim me as it is.
O’Donnell: Your ˜In Case Of’s’ good?
Mendez: Just Christine (his son’s mother, they’re separated). Guess I should have brought some books to read in prison.
O’Donnell: Nah. They’ll kill you long before prison.

For those of you who haven’t seen “Argo,” Ben Affleck both directed it and played Tony Mendez (emphatic fist shake at not casting a Hispanic actor), who rescued six diplomats who managed to escape from the embassy in Tehran and hide out in the Canadian ambassador’s house (the ambassador is brilliantly played by Victor Garber- also one of my favorite fictional spies as Jack Bristow in “Alias”).

I love how the movie is heartbreaking and hilarious in one breath. And no, I didn’t have to look up the lines, just can’t remember whether they’re at National or Dulles. And even though I’ve seen it more times than all my other favorites combined, I still cry at the end (not a spoiler, just the orchestral score).

My best wish for the new digs is that they have a huge Tony Mendez exhibit, because he died not too long ago and therefore, I would guess that even more of his ops are declassified. I am not totally clear on the rules, but I believe when you die you lose your covers, and the ops you’ve done can be made public… just not the ones that involve other people still alive and/or are still in progress. It’s possible some are still current, because I believe that after Tony left the CIA full time, he was still an occasional consultant. No one would want to lose all that experience permanently unless the person was really, really gone. I can’t imagine the grief inside The Agency, because he was a straight-up legend.

In a way, I think that subconsciously I picked going to the spy museum because Tony died to remind myself that I am not the only person in the world in grief.

I feel the same way about walking through cemeteries. To me, it is not morbid. It is an uplifting reminder that I am not alone in my sadness, situational depression, wondering what we’d be gabbing about if she were still here, etc. What I find is that as time goes on, the well of emotional injury gets more shallow, but there are triggers that pull me right back to her open casket, and how I felt completely disoriented, as if the world had started spinning the other direction and I could feel it.

One of those triggers was Tony’s death. I started crying and couldn’t stop, eventually realizing that it wasn’t all about him. Yes, it was devastating to lose a national treasure, but it was also a direct hit on how “gone” death truly means. And not to demean losing friends or extended family, but your reality doesn’t actually crack until you lose a parent. The entire universe seems different, and for a while, it loses all its color. You just wander around sort of half alive in grayscale.

I knew that I was getting better when I could make an effort to see friends, but at first, it was only other people who had also lost a parent. They were my people, the ones who I could confide in and share my rage at the dumb things people say when you lose a loved one, knowing innately that they mean no malice, so you can’t get mad at them directly. You can only get mad at the situation. Bad theology got on my nerves, didn’t measure up to one lady who compared the death of her cat to the death of my mother at church. It made my rage go to 11 and I had to excuse myself as not to emotionally rip her to shreds, because if I had waited even another three seconds, I would have taken her head off.

There’s only one other situation that makes me truly uncomfortable, and that’s the people who, upon hearing about your parent’s death, start crying because they can’t imagine what’s going to happen when their parents die, and that also happened to me in public (again, at church). The reason it’s tone deaf is because my natural reaction was “well, it’s a good thing I’m going through it and not you.” It’s just so egocentric that I cannot deal. It’s just another situation in which I just have to walk away, because I have not come up with an appropriate response, just a sarcastic one.

And that’s the thing. Because you know the people around you aren’t trying to hurt you, there’s just nothing that anyone can say that will make it better, you have no idea what to say in response to the awkward and often just stupid.

If you don’t know what to do, let me tell you. Grief is as individual as a fingerprint, and everyone processes differently, but this generally works across the board. Say “I’m sorry for your loss,” and offer to be present. And that’s it. The ones I loved the most during that time were people who showed up, but didn’t say much of anything. They just sat next to me as I stared off into space and were willing to listen if I could manage to talk. But they offered no advice on what to do, they just let me process verbally. It’s never a case of needing advice on what to do, especially if you haven’t lost a parent yourself. It’s giving the person room to breathe and never, ever comparing grief, even if you’ve been in the same situation. Because we’re not in the same boat, just the same ocean and trying to keep our heads above water. Suffering is universal, but we all have different ways of coping.

For instance, when I was actually in town for the funeral and with my sister and my dad, I hardly emoted at all because I was speaking at the funeral and I wanted to feel put together for it. I wanted to be able to be funny, because the eulogies I enjoy the most are the ones that offer real insight into the person. My mother was a church musician almost her entire life, starting at 12 or 13. So my opening line was, “this is the only funeral Carolyn Baker’s ever been to where she wasn’t working.” It had the desired effect. The entire congregation just broke up.

I am also quite socially anxious, and only three people I knew besides my family came to the funeral, so I had to put on a mask and a suit of armor to deal with being in a HUGE crowd where I knew practically no one. The mask and the armor are extroversion to an Oprah-like level, while inside I am shaking and counting the seconds until I can get home. In short, I didn’t look like someone in grief until I flew back to DC, where I only got out of bed sporadically for about three months. I allowed myself to completely fall apart, just not in front of anyone. I did once, and it was terrifying, so I never did it again. I gave lip service to letting people in, and then I completely isolated, only emoting through e-mail or crying into my pillows when no one was home. I couldn’t even bear crying that was loud enough for my housemates to come running, and they’re people I’d trust with my life.

In public, I became stoic and divorced from my emotions, because feeling even small emotions led to a flooding out I couldn’t stop. It was better not to start, because it would stop me from engaging in conversation. Even when I was with friends, there was a risk I wouldn’t take- being there, but not present….. people talking at my body while my soul was out there somewhere, unable to respond appropriately with laughter or empathy or whatever the situation needed…. as well as just nodding and smiling because I could hear people talking, but I couldn’t understand what was being said. It became background noise.

In essence, compartmentalization was necessary to have a fighting chance at moving on.

I thought I knew grief from bad breakups, and it was a wake-up call to realize how differently devastating this grief continues to be.

That’s because even though you gain and lose people to circumstances throughout your life, there’s still a small chance they’ll reappear. You apologize for being shitty people to each other and as long as the apology comes with changed behavior, it will generally stick…. or as I call it from a stolen line, “resurrection happening in the middle of the mess.”

As an aside, Easter is a very important holiday for me, because I don’t generally celebrate Jesus’ resurrection literally, but the way we resurrect ourselves, both individually and in community.

When a person dies, as opposed to a relationship, you lose hope. You lose the future. And if the person dies relatively young, you get angry at having the years stolen away in which you feel entitled. My mother was 65. She died just months after her retirement from teaching- she never even got to enjoy it. What I miss the most is that I thought we could go to church together more often, because she wasn’t working. Even when she took time off to come and visit me, she’d never take time off from church as well. When she died, she was completely free, because her church had so few members that they decided to close, and she hadn’t found a new church yet. I’d already started looking through solos because I thought I had my favorite accompanist back, and I’d already talked to my choir director about it.

My choir director and my mother were cut from the same cloth, and every time Sam played solo piano, if I closed my eyes I couldn’t tell the difference. When my mother died, it made me come unglued. I went to church for about six weeks after I came back from the funeral, and it was just long enough to realize that it was the biggest trigger of them all and I still can’t go back. I know I will; eventually I will get that trigger stamped back down to manageable, but today is not that day.

I do appreciate that Mike, the husband in the family I live with, keeps inviting me to his church, even though it’s relatively conservative United Methodist. I’d still take him up on it because I know the hymnal from front to back, as well as soprano descants for nearly everything. Singing would be the most important part of church for me no matter what the congregation believes.

In true introvert form, I want to be invited even if I don’t take you up on it.

Another two words that make my day?

Please come.

Personal and Global

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

My gut is telling me I should write something. My mind is saying, “I got nothin.’ This is because so much has happened that the pictures from each event are swirling so fast that I can’t grab one long enough to describe it. As one Tumblr user said, “do you know how much braining it takes to make the words go?” I’m not sure I’ve ever identified more with any statement. Ever. I am much better one-on-one, so I’ve been writing a lot of letters… believe it or not, there are actually some things I won’t vomit all over the Internet. I know it’s hard to imagine. I mean, I’m so shy and retiring when it comes to talking about myself. But right now, so many things are internal that I literally can’t force them from the river that runs underneath my skin into my fingers.

What I can say is that my birthday was full of joy at having my family here to celebrate. It’s been years since I had a birthday party with my dad and sister. What’s even better than that is my sister is the good kind of lobbyist, so I see her almost as frequently as I saw her when we both lived in the same city. Now that Congress is winding down, I won’t see her again until possibly October and definitely in November, but it was great that this month’s work trip coincided with the transition from 40 to 41.

Movies and television about the CIA are so fascinating to me that I love that my age is the same as George H.W. Bush’s presidential number. No comment on how I’ll feel about 43. In this vein, I would like to skip directly from age 44 to 46.

Interesting sidenote about CIA television. Jack Ryan on Amazon Prime Video begins in Lebanon, so I’ve been able to look at amazing pictures from the real country (it wasn’t actually filmed there) thanks to Hayat’s upbringing. For those of us just joining us, I rent a room from a Lebanese family, complete with photos in country throughout most of the house. Because of them, Lebanon is on my bucket list- too beautiful to ignore.

I will just have to find a big, strong man to accompany me, because I’m a feminist and I’m also not stupid enough to ignore the rules in a Muslim country. Lebanon is not as strict as some of the others, but I’m not taking any chances. Because I’m such an introvert, I’d probably be the most comfortable in a burqa, and I’m not kidding. I’m a writer and observer. Not so much with the talking to strangers, and although I am generally delightful in conversation, for the most part it is me overcoming my natural shyness and jumping into The Leslie Lanagan Show.™ You don’t generally get the real me until we’re at a secluded table, cups of coffee between us… and even then, we have to have known each other a while. I don’t feel entirely comfortable with people until I’m assured that they know the real me, and for better or for worse, love me anyway. But no one I’ve ever come across dislikes The Leslie Lanagan Show.™ It comes from years and years of practice. Fake it til you make it and all that comes with it.

It is probably for this very reason that I spend so much time alone, because I want to spend my time as an authentic person, able to walk around in my own gargantuan inner landscape. I think mostly about where I want to go from here, not career-wise, necessarily, but who I want to be as a person. As my anxiety goes down, my capacity for love goes up. It’s easy to love people who love you back. Hard to love the irritable, the angry, and the unknown.

My authentic self wants the capability to love the world where it is, how it is… and at the same time, so angry about the things that divide us as a country and as citizens of the world.

For instance, it is inconceivable that people are having trouble believing that Bob Woodward’s book, Fear: Trump in the White House is just a basic hatchet job, when this is the same reporter that broke the Watergate story and has also covered seven other presidents in addition to Trump and Nixon. For instance, my favorite Woodward book is Obama’s Wars, where he doesn’t even blink in his critique of the president, and presents some information that tempers unfettered adulation, such as his own Syrian blink of 2012-13. No president is above reproach, and while I admire Barack Obama greatly, and would do basically anything he asked, that does not transfer into thinking he is a perfect person. No one ever is. We are all angels & demons, depending on the choices we make and when.

Trump… opens with staffers stealing things off the president’s desk, knowing that if the papers aren’t there, he’ll just forget about the issue… and one of them involves instigating conflict with North Korea. I am not kidding when I say that almost literally, the bombs start dropping in chapter one.

So, to discredit a reporter and non-fiction writer who has an amazing reputation is infuriating to an enormous degree. If anyone is capable of telling this story, it is Bob Woodward.

Write it down.

So, to put it mildly, my thoughts have moved past the personal into the global, which is probably what is driving my interest in intelligence-gathering. One of the points that Woodward makes, which is very relevent at this time, is that the FBI and CIA have different standards for espionage. This is because CIA evidence is rarely used in court cases, and “the Feebs'” evidence often is. Therefore, vetting in the CIA doesn’t have to be quite as high, because it does not have to meet the “beyond a reasonable doubt” or “preponderance of evidence” requirement- the former in criminal cases, the latter in civil litigation.

This, of course, bit CIA in the ass during the WMD years, which has, in turn, made them even more cautious now… in the words of Martha Stewart, “a very good thing.” Now I’m just pleased with myself. I made a complete sentence using CIA and Martha Stewart. #touchme

But, of course, it’s not just thinking about the world that has me interested in intel. I am just one of those people who likes Knowing Stuff.™ To be in a room full of journalists or government workers is being invited to sit at the cool kids’ table for me… the reason I know DC is where I belong.

One of the great joys of my life is when Dan and I meet for lunch, and I get to walk her back to her office in Foggy Bottom. I’ll let you guess what that means. More fun to figure it out on your own. However, I will say she’s not a spook. But she’s sure as hell smart enough to be. Also, because she’s so small, it tickles me to think of her back in her Army days, running around in full battle rattle. I have no doubt that one of her main strengths was running right at the enemy and knocking them off-balance. 😛 (Oh, am I ever going to catch hell for that one…)

Now I’m back to thinking about the personal, all the light my friends bring into my life. I am one lucky, lucky 41-year-old. I’m not sure how the next trip around the sun can top this one, but I’m sure going to try. It seems easier when I feel like I’m literally lifted off the ground, the warmth of friendship holding me aloft.