Talking to myself

I make great writing progress by talking to myself – plot line, character development, dialogue – especially when I’m on a road trip.  A digital recorder travels where ever I go, riding side-saddle in the outer pocket of my purse.  Since May I have been on the road a lot (Savannah, Tybee Island, Fort Myers) and countless trips between cottage and home.

56 Digital Files

The mind-numbing work in recorded notes is transcribing them.  Since mid-July my days are spent bush whacking at the new property on the lake, preparing to build.  The work has taken over my time and focus, the digital recorder abandoned.  This is the second rainy day in a row, no outside work.   So I dug out the recorder – 56 digital files!  Yesterday I transcribed 6 files in 8 hours, and I’ve already produced 23 pages of notes for the novel!  That’s the good news.

Put me out of my misery!

The bad news?  Listening to my whiney voice on slow speed so I can type steadily without re-winding.  Only the left ear bud worked this morning so I cranked up the volume on the recorder, talking to myself out loud!  Sound carries easily across the water; cottage neighbours must be shocked that I am so obviously drunk before breakfast.

And the ugly news?  Yes, there is something worse than listening to myself aloud at slow speed.  Allergy season was downright nasty this year, and my reactions to tree pollen were in full bloom when I dictated these notes.  It’s noon and I want to kill the nasally ‘me’ emanating from the recorder.  Hours of listening to plug-nosed tones and dry mouth swallows, and I would love to slap that particular ‘me’ silly.

Is there a barn near here?

I promise to buy ‘voice-to-text‘ software with the next big pay cheque.  I don’t have a (paid) job right now so …  is there a barn near here?