Published in the Colborne Chronicle 16^thDecember 2000

Microphone on!
As I get into the more intensive writing phase of what appears to be a very varied career, I¹ve noticed two things: one is that my typing is getting much faster and, secondly, I appear to be dyslexic. Having given typing lessons a fair amount of time and yet still struggling, and being impatient, I succumbed to the blandishments and appeals of the computer industry. I purchased voice recognition software - a computer program that converts voice into words. This technology, although around awhile and a boon to many challenged people, is new to me. I have always been intrigued by the idea one could speak into the computer and words would magically appear. The problem for me has always been that my computers have never been fast enough, big enough or powerful enough to run this stuff. Now into my fifth generation computer replacement, I have the power to use voice recognition. But I was still hesitant. It wasn¹t until it became obvious that a period of heavy writing loomed ahead that I took the plunge.

Unwrapping the box  (purchased from Len and Ann Corkery of Colborne¹s Computer Solutions) like a child at Christmas time, I eagerly ripped off the paper and plastic to get at the instruction book. Determined to conquer the male impulse that mandates disregarding all instructions, I picked up the smallest booklet, which was entitled "quick reference". This pamphlet gave me all the instructions needed and I was away to the races. Following the instructions in the little boxes that magically appear on the computer screen as soon as I started the setup program, I was very easily able to start the first phase. I have to train the computer.

Sitting in front of the computer with a headset strapped on, I have the feeling that I¹m about to start demonstrating a gadget just like those salesmen you see at a home show. I¹m sitting in my office, which happens to be a converted front porch, with a headset on talking to myself. Following the instructions, I choose the first step of the training process. This step consists of reading text into the computer so the computer can understand your accent, your way of speaking and the style in which you speak. I must say, I am very impressed. From here on, I refer to the program as "the Dragon".  (I'm not giving it any endorsement because I'm not getting paid for it.)  The Dragon works extremely well.
As any who know me are aware, I originated in another country so I do tend to "talk funny", but the Dragon doesn't care how funny you talk; all it wants is words. If the words tend to get garbled up - just as "garbled" was originally "gobbled" - all I have to do is correct it by saying the magic words "Correct That".  Then the words just spoken are isolated and appear ready to be corrected by me.

I have spoken in great detail about this because most people are very interested in just how the computer picks up mistakes. I don't know how, but it has something to do with the computer recognizing words not sounds. All I know is it works and works well. However, not without its drawbacks. The main drawback is to get used to the art of dictating.  This long lost art, once a mark of pride amongst middle management and senior executives, has long disappeared along with the steno pad-wielding secretary who transcribed those dictations. Now dictating is confined to self-employed lawyers and minute takers but here I am, finding myself learning how to do it.
Apparently, all one has to do is convert the structure of sentence-writing into an abstract exercise. In other words, if you want to be a success at dictation, or talking "real computer", you  follow the advice of all  wise people: "Please engage brain before opening mouth". This has required another period of training.

For many journalists and writers, the translation of words from one¹s brain to paper or computer screen is an instinctive process. You have a thought, you type it out and there is. You look at it, make a few corrections, and it's finished.  With the Dragon, you take your hands out of the equation. Initially, it's analogous with a Mediterranean man trying to speak with his hands cut off: part of the thought-to-page translation process has been excised. Now, I find myself projecting the image of the finished article in my mind¹s eye as I speak the words I am reading directly from my mind. I think everybody should have to learn to dictate. It's the answer to loose lips and verbal diarrhea.

Writing this column, which has been untouched by human hands, has, in fact, taken me longer than if it were done by just typing it out. I am sold. Better still, I am convinced that when we are trained (the computer and me), we will be a powerful and fearsome duo.
Microphone Off!