The Sound of My Voice

Geese Stepping Out

Last week, when I posted about my upcoming rotator cuff surgery, I mentioned how almost as soon as I mention that my right (dominant) arm will be in a sling for six weeks following the surgery, I receive some variation on the suggestion that I set up so I can use voice to text.

Sometimes a specific program is suggested.  Often there is a kind offer to show me how to use the software.  In a few cases, the suggestion is worded in a fashion that makes it clear that the person making the suggestion thinks that I’m one of those old people who is “afraid” of technology.

The reason I don’t plan on using voice to text during those six weeks has nothing to do with technophobia.  I may not be one of those people who needs to adopt the latest gadget, but I’m far from a technophobe.  I started using a computer back when it was necessary to type in code for routine things like underlining.  I had one of the first two PCs used by the English Department at Fordham University back when I was a grad student.  My first job as a college professor was at one of the first colleges to require incoming freshmen to have a PC, and I taught classes in a networked classroom.

To me, technology is a tool, not a lifestyle choice.  So why am I not making that lifestyle choice to help make my life easier when I’m not going to be able to get full use out of my right arm?

One reason, as I explained last week, is that I plan to concentrate on healing, which means cutting back on all the things I do, many of which involve using my computer.  But there’s an additional reason that voice to text doesn’t appeal to me.

The sound of my own voice gets in the way of my composing, especially when writing fiction.

Back when I taught at Lynchburg College, I was one of two members of the department who did a fair amount of creative writing on the side.  The other was a poet named Loren.  The department was small and friendly and enthusiastic, so it’s not surprising that from time to time we’d actually end up discussing literature.  And often when someone was outlining their theory as to why some author had done this or that, what influences there might have been, whatever, Loren and I would just look at each other, because, for us, stories came from wherever they came and sort of wandered out the ends of our fingers onto the page.

Loren, who was a fisherman, as well as an award-winning poet, said that his poems often started as if he was hearing a voice over a lake, and trying hard to capture the words.

I’ve never been so poetic in describing my writing, but the process is similar.  Sure, I do a lot of thinking, a lot of research, but the actual experience of writing can approach on mystical, with the characters and situations taking on a life of their own.  Sometimes I experience the evolving story with all five senses.  Hearing my voice can get in the way of the writing.  It’s that simple.

Doing a reading is always an adventure, but that’s topic for another time.  Ask if you want more…