This memoir was written prior to publication of my second novel which approaches its first birthday on September 20, 2017, when the Kindle edition made its debut at Amazon.

Ever since I submitted the manuscript of my second novel for publication, I’ve been moonlighting by preparing for its debut. One of these ventures involves answering questions for prospective author interviews. I find the process of peeling away autobiographical layers of Eva cathartic as though I’m reclining on a couch while in the midst of an expensive psychoanalytical session with the clock ticking before my half hour is up. Pandering to an author’s alter ego, I interpret each question as a nod for me to babble and blab about my humble beginnings as a wordsmith.


And, so, with little prompting, I’ve revisited my childhood and adolescence pertaining to my “write” of passage through those first forays of extracting pulp fiction from the enchanted forest of my wild imagination. Previously revealed in my author bio at Authors Den and elsewhere, “under my mother’s tutelage, I became a proficient typist by the age of nine and soon pounded chapter stories on my girly-pink Tom Thumb typewriter.”

What I’ve never revealed up until now are the stories I composed at the age of twelve. The very first one sprang to mind because of a malfunction in our doorbell which would ring sporadically by itself until my father dismantled the wiring and corrected the situation. Nevertheless, I drafted a chapter story on my typewriter in the genre of mystery—“The Mystery of the Midnight Doorbell,” replete with dialog, secret codes, and a smuggling ring.

Hot to trot along the stubborn keys of a manual typewriter, I struck gold from mining a series of spy thrillers under the auspices of an agency I named I.N.T.R.I.G.U.E. Plucking the names of exotic countries from a map provided settings I knew nothing about. For me, it was all about the action, creating stereotyped characters dripping dialogue in broken English, good triumphing over evil, and gadgetry.

Rivaling the espionage devices in The Man from U.N.C.L.E., the popular TV series created in 1964 which my thrillers predate, I employed such ingenious gimmicks as a radio in the guise of screw back earrings, and a mini-camera concealed inside a carnation boutonniere.

In hindsight, I wish I had invented the shoe phone before the likes of Maxwell Smart, Agent 86, who worked for CONTROL in Get Smart, the comedy, spy-spoof series which first aired on television in 1965.

No surprise, all I wanted for Christmas at the age of twelve was a ream of typing paper to further my “write” of passage. My parents did better than that by placing a brand new, manual, Remington Rand typewriter for grownups under the tree for an aspiring young writer.
Eva Pasco’s Websites:

Authors Den:


Eva’s Novels at Amazon:

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