Thursday, September 30, 2010

The Perils of Working at Home


Look at this great picture of a mom working at home.  Doesn't she look happy, relaxed, and productive?  And how about that gorgeous baby?! The baby is content, clean, and quiet enough for mom to conduct business on the phone with the baby in her lap. The desk is clean and neatly organized.  Everyone in this little family is happy. Wow.

That's what working at home is like.

Seriously?

You are not going to like this.

I have decided that it's time to share an unpopular piece of reality. Many of the things you believe about working at home are simply not true. The romantic images of working at home that most people have in their heads are cruel hoaxes, perpetrated by people who are either slackers, charlatans, or borderline autistic with uncanny powers of focus.

I told you you weren't going to like it.

Now, before all of the self-employed folks working at home start commenting, e-mailing, and tweeting me, let me explain myself…

There are some definite advantages to working at home. It's absolutely true that your schedule is more flexible and that can spend more time with family. It's also true that you can work in your slippers if you want to and you'll save a fortune on lunch because you don't have to go out; you can just step into your own kitchen and make a sandwich.

One of the biggest advantages that people often cite for working at home is the advantage of being your own boss; however, that is actually an advantage of self-employment, regardless of whether or not you work at home or in a suite of offices.

I'm all for self employment, and I can totally understand the attraction of working at home, but the romantic notion of working at home that many people hold is just wrong.

As a self-employed business owner, I have worked at home and I have worked in an office, both with and without employees. When I first started my current business over 10 years ago, I started it in my living room, and I loved it. As much as I loved it, I learned about the perils of working at home and I accommodated for them as best I could, but it just worked out better for me to get out of the house and work from an office.

A couple of years ago I wrote an article about time management tips for home based business owners. I knew I had learned a few things that could benefit others.

You would think that I would remember all of those things when I found myself working at home again this week as I stayed home to care for a sick family member. Instead, I was reminded of exactly why I chose to get an office.

So, if you're thinking of working at home, keep these things in mind:

Everything in your house is a distraction, from the dishes in the kitchen sink to the bills in your desk to the television. Staying focused on income generating activities is critically important for self-employed individuals. It's a difficult discipline to develop even if you don't have many distractions, and it's nearly impossible to master if everything around you is calling you away from focus.

If you manage to get into a groove of focus, it's harder to stop working when you're at home than when you're at an office. Okay, I know that self-employed people are never really "off work," but if you are working at home you are, literally, always at work. So much for having more time with your family. In fact, I have learned that my family would much prefer that I do my work at the office so that when I come home I am truly present with them, and not just pretending to be with them while I continue to work.

One more thing, the whole fantasy about working in your slippers is a trap. Researchers have actually documented that people working at home are much more productive if they dress and behave as if they were going to an office to work. That means wearing makeup, fixing your hair, and wearing real shoes. If you don't, not only will you be much less productive, but that will surely be the day that several delivery people, a few neighbors, and the local Jehovah's Witnesses come to your door. If you dress and groom as if you were leaving for the office, your doorbell won't ring all day (one less distraction). I don't know why it works this way, but I have come to accept it as one of the great truths of the universe.

I think there should be a warning label that accompanies all claims of how wonderful it is to work at home. That warning label should delineate the perils of working at home and warn you, "Work at Home at Your Own Risk."

The next time anybody tries to lure you into working at home (particularly the multilevel marketing folks who tend to say that working from home is nothing but sunshine and sweetness) ask them to tell you about at least three disadvantages of working at home. If they can (and will), you might be able to trust them. If not, run for the hills. Go into it with your eyes open, or don't go into it at all.

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Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Writing Things That No One Will Read

Most people write with the assumption, or at least the hope, that someone will read what they have written.  After all, why else would you write? OK, journaling is an exception. Apparently, I am another exception.  Well, it's not just me, but evaluators everywhere.

We collect data.  We analyze it.  We develop detailed and compelling reports about program successes and failures.  Well, maybe they are not always that compelling, but they are detailed, and they do take a lot of energy and effort to produce.

We submit them with pride, congratulating ourselves on another job well done.  And then we wait.  And we wait.  What are we waiting for?  We are waiting for feedback that never comes. We are waiting for evidence that someone - anyone - has actually read the report.

About seven times out of ten, we wait in vain.  Our reports get submitted to the powers that be who check off the box that says, "report submitted" and everyone goes on with their lives.

On a rare occasion, I'll have a client who reviews the report and submits suggestions for corrections or changes.  On an even rarer occasion, I'll have a client who actually wants to get together to discuss my findings and talk about how they can be used to improve the program. Those are giddy and heady times for me, believe me.

Usually, however, that's not the case.  People just wait impatiently, and I can hear the virtual sound of the tapping of feet as they apply the pressure to finish faster so they can turn it in and get the box checked off. Sometimes the pressure is not so subtle.  They'll call and say, "What's taking so long?" And then they stop short, but I can tell they want to say, "No one is going to read it anyway."

You want to know why it takes so long?  It takes a long time because data analysis is a complex task.  It takes a long time because I have some integrity and I take pride in my work, even when I know no one will read it.  It takes a long time because I have been hired to do a good job, so I do. True, yours is probably not the only project on my desk, but that doesn't mean that I and my staff are not giving it the attention it deserves.

Staying motivated to do a good job when you know that no one cares is not always easy, but there is always someone who knows.  Who?

Me.

No matter who else reads the report, I still have to look myself in the mirror each day. I care.


And that matters.


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Thursday, September 23, 2010

The Voice in My Head

The voice in my head is pretty active today. Yes, I have a voice in my head that seems like it's not my own, and she seems to be pretty vocal lately.  No, I don't "hear voices" (so there's no need to contact the mental health authorities).

I used to think it was the voice of my conscience speaking, but then I noticed one day that some of the things she says are not necessarily aligned with my current world view or moral compass.  It's true.  Sometimes, she makes me do a double-take and wonder who the heck she is, but other times she's as familiar as a comfortable pair of shoes - warm, supportive, comfortable.

When the voice is encouraging, I like her.  In fact, I even try to take credit for her and assume she's me.  But when she's critical or discouraging, I know she's a foreigner and I sigh like I did when I was 12.

It's the voice of my mother.

Here are some of the less-than-supportive things she has said to me in the last 24 hours:
  • "No, you can't wear those shoes.  It's after Labor Day."
  • "Go ahead and wear that dress. I suppose it doesn't matter matter what people think."
  • "Are you sure you want to do that?"
  • "How many calories are in that?"
  • "You're going to waste your money on Starbucks???"
  • "So what if everybody is doing it? Would you jump off a bridge if everyone else did?"
  • "You never listen."
  • "A penny saved is a penny earned. You could save a bunch of pennies if you re-used that disposable cup....again."
  • "I think you could have done better."
  • "This isn't your best work.  Were you going for the 'I really don't care' effect?"
  • "If you leave the house like that, this will be the day you get into a car wreck."
But she's not always critical.  Here are some of the encouraging and supportive things I've heard her say in the last day:
  • "What a great idea!."
  • "It's OK to choose time with your son over work. He's precious, and he's growing up fast."
  • "How fortunate you are that your husband loves you so much."
  • "Are you the most fortunate woman in the world, or what?!"
  • "Good hair day...nice!"
  • "Donny is such a fine young man.  You should be proud."
  • "Derek, MaryEllen, Sam and Beth are such blessings in your life, not just your business....it's good you know that. Are you showing them that you know it?"
  • "Good for you for choosing to cook a healthy meal at home, rather than calling out for pizza."
  • "No, the world won't stop spinning if you stop for prayer throughout the day.  In fact, your world will spin a little more smoothly."
  • "You made a difference today."
  • "You're not alone."
I used to think I wanted her out of my head, but come to think of it, I kind of like her there.

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Wednesday, September 22, 2010

My Email Inbox

My email inbox is a very interesting place. It's full (and I mean full) of email from all sorts of different sources.  There are notifications (I'm trying to remember why I thought I needed a notification for every new Twitter follower, lead visiting the website, or Facebook comment), announcements, (a new course coming up for parents of children with ADHD, a local non-profit board meeting agenda, and on and on and on....), newsletters (I don't even know how many lists I'm on, and yes, at some point in time I actually double opted in on them all), communications from clients and potential clients (these are the only messages I really want), letters from family (ok, I want these, too), and spam, lots and lots of spam (I can have a spam filter that is the virtual equivalent of the Great Wall of China and it still gets through).

All of this equates to hundreds of emails flowing through my email inbox.  And are you ready for this?  This is for only one of my six email addresses. The others don't get as much traffic, but one of them is coming close.

I love to read and I read very. very fast, but what do people do who don't read as quickly as I do?  How do they possibly get through all this email?

One of the things that really bothers me is that sifting through so much stuff makes it more likely that I'll miss something important.  I know, I know....I have tried different filters to send email to different folders so I can focus on the ones I need to see first, but there's always a glitch, and the last time I really tried that, I ended up losing more than if I had just dealt with the long list.

Another problem I have is that I seem to be constitutionally incapable of hitting that delete button as much as I should. I try.  Really, I do. But then that little voice inside says, "What if you'll need that later?"

The good news from this situation is that my experience has made me very conscience about the email I send out.  Oh, I have a long mailing list like most other business owners have nowadays, but I try to use it sparingly and judiciously. Do people really need to get an email from me 3-4 times a week?  No.  They don't. If they really want to hear from me that often, they can subscribe to one of my 6 blogs (or all of them).  Then they can have me on their computer screen every day, several times a day, or they can follow me on Twitter and hear from me even more often.  The truth is that if anyone really wants to hear from me, there are plenty of avenues for them to do so.  The last thing they need is me forcing even more on them through email.

 I wish the lists that I am on would have the same perspective, but they don't. They apparently believe that signing up for their newsletter means that I have given them carte blanche to email me as often as they want for any purpose.

That brings me full circle to the whole concept of the delete button again, or even better, the unsubscribe button. If I can get beyond the little voice whispering, "What if you'll need this?", I run into the voice that screams, "If someone took the time to write this, you should show them the courtesy of reading it." {sigh}  Really?

Then it occurs to me.  That's my mother's voice in my head! 


That's it.  There's no use fighting the mama voice.

About 30 emails have come in while I have been writing this.  I'd better get back to reading it all.

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Tuesday, September 14, 2010

My Secret Late-Night Pleasure

I have decided that it's time for me to share my secret late-night pleasure with the world. This really has been a secret, but I suspect that my husband might know something about it, even though I haven't yet shared it with him openly.

Don't worry. This blog is still rated G (okay, maybe a spicy PG sometimes).

Here it is: Every night, very late at night, when I am in bed and after I am sure my husband is asleep, I privately indulge in one of my greatest pleasures. Keeping the lights turned off and scooching way over to my side of the bed, I pull up the covers and try to stay very still so I don't wake my husband.

Then I reach over the side of the bed and feel around on the floor until I find what I'm looking for. That's where I keep it, plugged in at night so it can recharge, and hidden just under the dust ruffle of the bed so no one can see it, although I'm not sure why I do that because I am certainly not ashamed of it nor am I worried that anyone would steal it here in my bedroom late at night. Before I bring it up into bed with me I usually turn one last time to check and make sure that my husband really is asleep. Once I am certain that he is, I get down to business.

I pull my iPhone into bed with me, tap the Kindle app, and choose a book to read. Sometimes I pull the covers up over my head and read under the covers so the light won't disturb my husband, and I feel just like I did when I was a kid and I would read under the covers late at night with a flashlight.

I don't just read books. Sometimes, I'll go into Google Reader and read 50 or 60 blogs. Other times, I'll disappear into Twitter, tweeting and re-tweeting until the wee hours of the morning.

At some point during all this reading creative ideas start to pop into my head and I quickly open my Awesome Note app. My fingers fly across the touchscreen as a record of the ideas either in my journal folder, the marketing folder for work, the grant folder, or my to do list. Sometimes I head over to Facebook and post a comment or two before writing my gratitude list for the day and taking some time to chat with God before I go to sleep.

Every now and then, my husband moves like he's going to roll over to my side of the bed and I hide the phone quickly under my pillow, only pulling it out again when I know it's safe.

This is my time. It's just me and God and words and ideas flowing freely, uninterrupted by the demands of my life. It's not the same as reading during the day because something or someone will inevitably interrupt that time or I will interrupt myself because there other things I could or should be doing.

But not now. This is my time. There's nothing else I should be doing. This is exactly what I should be doing.

This is my secret late-night pleasure.

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Monday, September 13, 2010

A Life in 140 Words or Less

I was browsing through the many documents on my computer desktop a few minutes ago looking for something in particular I need to work on when I found the first draft of my mother's obituary, written over 3 1/2 years ago (yes, my desktop is a mess and I really do have documents from years ago just floating out in the open in cyberspace). As I opened it, all of the emotion I experienced when I wrote it came flooding back. I didn't want to write it, but there was just an assumption in the family that I would be the one to take care of this task. Maybe it's because I write for a living. Maybe it's because I wrote my grandmother's obituary less than a year before. Maybe it's simply because nobody else wanted to do it. It really doesn't matter; the task fell to me.

On movies and TV shows about up-and-coming reporters you hear jokes about reporters who start their careers writing obituaries, and obituary writing is treated as something less than "real" writing because obituaries have a standard format and are typically filled with facts that call for (and allow) little creativity. You open with a paragraph announcing that the person died, when they died, where they died, and how old they were when they died, and on a rare occasion someone might add how they died. The following paragraph lists surviving family members. The next paragraph cites family members who died before, and the obituary closes with the details of the funeral or memorial service and where to send donations or condolences to the family. I can see how that would be pretty dry, and how reporters faced with that task would do just about anything they could to move up to something else.


However, some newspapers allow family members to write the obituary themselves and to add a paragraph between the introductory "just the facts" paragraph and the paragraph about surviving family members that tells the reader a little something about the person's life. Mom's whole obituary was 350 words. The paragraph about her life was 138 words.


138 words to capture the essence of 65 years of living, loving, learning, grieving, rejoicing, teaching, giving, laughing, worshiping, crying, sharing, taking, risking, and surviving. 138 words to try to convey to the world the sense of loss I felt in those days after mom left us. 138 words to help people who would never meet her understand how this world has been a better place because she was here. 138 words to help people who knew her remember what a difference she made and all the things she did and the roles she played during the times of her life before and after her life intersected with theirs. 138 words to describe her life for the archives of history--the official written record of her life and death. 138 words to say goodbye.


When I wrote my grandmother's obituary, I felt a sense of pride as I researched the life she lived as a young woman, and all the things she accomplished. I was pleased with how what I had written represented grandma's life. Even the hint of missing emotion in the list of facts about her life seemed to appropriately mirror the emotional distance my grandmother maintained between herself and those around her, even most members of her family. While it wasn't the best writing I've ever done, I thought I did well.


But mom's obituary was different. At the time I wrote it (and rewrote it and rewrote it and…) I knew it wasn't good enough. Even now, almost 4 years later, when I look at it I feel like I let her down. I had 140 words. In the middle of a highly restricted 350 word obituary to say anything I wanted about her life in any way that I wanted to say it. And what I came up with was a list of things she had done in her life. While it was accurate, it didn't capture her, and that's what makes me sad today. 


I thought about rewriting it at some point, not because anybody else cares, but because I think I could do better now that the intense fog of grief has lifted. No, I know I can do better. When I think about it I can hear mom's voice in my head saying two things concurrently – "If you think you can do better, then rewrite it" and "It really doesn't matter; the people who loved me, the people who mattered, knew who I was." 


In my defense (or maybe I'm just justifying a poor writing job), I think it's nearly impossible to capture the essence of the person's life in 140 words or less. Even so, when I think of my mom, a few single word descriptors rise to the top as the best way to summarize her life: Love. Joy. Fear. Resilience. Service.


That was Mom.


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Sunday, September 12, 2010

What I love about my Kindle and my iPhone

If you've known me for more than 5 minutes or if you have read any of this blog you know that I love books and I love reading. One of my first jobs was in a library, and visiting used bookstores is one of my favorite things to do. Any spare moment I can find in my life ends up filled with reading (or writing) something.

When I first got my Kindle, I was concerned that it would never really replace books in my life and I was afraid that I had made a significant financial investment in something that would just sit on the shelf, so to speak. Of course, the fact that I have literally thousands of books just sitting on the shelf now or stored in boxes in a storage unit doesn't seem to bother me at all. Still, I suspected there was something about the whole experience of reading a book that could not be replaced by an electronic device – turning the pages, flipping through the pages to see the size of the chapter ahead, skipping to the very end to cheat and see how the story turns out, folding down the corner to mark your place, breathing in the smell of paper and ink, dozing off with an open book on your chest, curling up with a child and passing a book back and forth between you – Could an electronic device ever replace the amazing experiences that come with real books?

Yes, I was skeptical. On the other hand, I'm always reading five or six books at a time, and carrying that pile from room to room in the house or attempting to travel with it was getting old. With the Kindle, I could have my whole library with me at any time, tucked nicely into my purse, waiting to come out and be of service when I was ready. For a book hopper like me, the Kindle was perfect! Sure, there were some things about hardcopy books that I missed, especially in the beginning, but as I got better and better with the features of the Kindle, these differences bothered me less and less.

And then came the iPhone. At first, I just downloaded the Kindle app and enjoyed that I could get my entire Kindle library on my iPhone, but I was sure that I would never use it because how could anybody comfortably read an entire book on that tiny screen? Then, one night, I was watching TV and saw an interesting book advertised. My iPhone was in my hand, so I opened the Kindle app and downloaded the new book. Then I opened the book and began reading it. A few hours later, I was finished. Wow! That tiny screen didn't bother me nearly as much as I thought it would. "Getting into the flow" of reading was just as easy on the little screen (with the font adjusted to "large," of course) as it was when I could hold a paper novel in my hand. And on my iPhone, I can download tens of thousands of books in free collections or very inexpensively through other apps. (If you're a book lover like me, you understand how just having all those books means something.  I can't explain it, but it does.)

One of my favorite features for reading on the iPhone is that I can see what other people have highlighted in a particular text (and how many people have highlighted that particular section of text). For some reason, this helps me feel more connected to others who have read the same book, almost like it's a shared reading experience.

I still choose to read hard copy books from time to time because there still is no substitute for that old-fashioned experience of holding a real book in my hands, and I still choose hard copy books most of the time for my six-year-old son (although I have to admit that the newfangled interactive books online and available through the iPhone are very, very cool), but there is no doubt in my mind that the iPhone and the Kindle (and other e-readers like them) are here to stay.

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Saturday, September 11, 2010

Demanding your rights or using good judgment?

My mother used to tell me, "Just because you can do something, doesn't mean that you should do it." She tried to teach me at an early age that there is an important distinction between having the right to do something and making the decision about whether or not it is the right thing to do. It has become clear that, in our zeal to demand and ensure our rights and our liberty, many of us grown-ups have forgotten this important distinction.

Confusion about this issue is plastered all over the headlines these days. A Muslim faith community has the right to build a community center two blocks from Ground Zero, yet they can't seem to understand that it might not be the right thing to do. A Christian preacher threatens to burn the Koran and it takes him a while to understand the impact of his potential actions on others. Sure, he has a right to do it, but should he? A majority in Congress (regardless of party) pushes laws through like a bull in a china shop, ignoring the protests of other members of Congress and a large portion of the public. Yes, they have a right to do this, but is it in the best interest of the country?

And it's not just people on the public stage who seem to be confused about this. I struggle with it in my daily life, too. I have the right to demand certain rights and accommodations for my son at school, and I can make some people's lives pretty miserable as I do it. But should I? Is it in the best interest of my son? Is alienating the educators who will be working with him every day the best way to get him what he needs? As an employer, I have the right to fire employees who are late to work, who don't follow my directives as they should, or who make careless mistakes, but aren't there more benefits to be gained from helping people to become good employees than from letting them go just because they don't "toe the line?" It's not an easy decision. Sure, I have the right to let them go, but there are many things to consider in making the decision about whether or not that is the right thing to do.

It seems that we have become very good at flexing our muscles to demand our rights while we are losing our ability to discern right from wrong. And I'm not just talking about when right and wrong are black and white because it's hardest to use good judgment when right and wrong are surrounded by 1 million shades of gray and other peoples' rights come into the picture.

I think it's time for all of us to take a step back and focus less on our own rights and more on the rights of others and making good decisions (judgments) about the right thing to do in each situation. This becomes easier when we try to focus on the needs of others, rather than our own needs. A world in which everyone is standing angrily shaking their fists demanding their own rights while others suffer is not the kind of world I want to live in whether the "world" is the national or international stage, my workplace, my community, or my home.

Most of us (and certainly, just about anyone who is reading this) have been blessed with great abundance. How would our world be different if, instead of focusing on demanding our rights, we focused on expressing our gratitude for that abundance daily by reaching out to others, trying to understand their point of view and their needs, asking the Almighty for guidance, and making good judgments about how to proceed based on what's right rather than how we can keep what we have and get more?

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Friday, September 10, 2010

The Magic of Used Book Stores

I love used book stores. They have an allure that new book stores just don't have. There's a particular feel to the air and a familiar musty smell that hints of the presence of the souls of the authors whose work haphazardly fills the shelves.

Some of the books are  like new - purchased, given, never read, unappreciated, and rejected....eventually finding their way to the dusty shelves next to other books that are waiting to be rediscovered..

Other books are well worn, oft read, beloved, dog-eared, sometimes with highlighting or margin notes that echo the story of someone's interaction with them.

Even the Borders and Barnes & Nobles of the world with their corporate, sanitized feel, coffee bars, listening stations and plush chairs can't compete with the old soul of the used book store. They have their own allure, of course, found in size and the sheer wonder of having almost any book you could ever want at your fingertips. It's also true that there are times when you want a current reference volume of something, or you're looking for something in particular that you want and need and you shop like you're on a Special Forces mission rather than an explorer, a seeker of something you don't even know yet.

There are several ways to approach the wealth of a used book store. My husband is a collector. He goes straight for the section where he will most likely find the books he collects, and then he browses, carefully checking every book on every shelf, taking down some copies for examination, whispering with elation when he finds a treasure. Interesting how we whisper in bookstores, isn't it? Some people believe it's because we have been conditioned to whisper in libraries and bookstores remind us of libraries (it must be all those books). I think it's because we intuitively understand the sacredness of knowledge and recording and sharing that knowledge.

My husband's "collector approach" to used book stores baffles me because I am a browser. I understand how much you miss if you target a particular section. So I slowly glide between the shelves, getting a feel for what's there and listening for something to speak to me, and stopping when something catches my eye or my spirit. When I find something special, I don't announce my find (even in a whisper) because it's a quiet moment of personal discovery for me. It's between me and the author of that book and the spirit that brought us together. I flip through it, read some of it (although I have been known to read entire books standing between the shelves in used book stores), and then hold it for awhile. Sometimes I'll walk around with it while I continue to browse. Sometimes I'll gently return it to it's place for someone else to discover.

Some books have notes in them that make wonder about the previous owners. "Dear Lizzie, This book changed my life. I hope it changes yours, too. Love, Mary" How did this book change Mary's life? Did Lizzie read it? Did Lizzie love it like Mary did? How did it end up here? Are Lizzie and Mary still alive? Did this book change their relationship? These are two women I will never meet, but we are connected at this moment by this book in my hand. I decide to take the book with me and read it, and now we are connected by ideas that span time and space, and I feel I know a little something about Mary now. No big box corporate book store ever did that for me.

Ok, maybe you're not a bibliophile like I am, and all of this sounds silly to you. If so, I challenge you to go to a used book store and browse a bit. Don't go when you have somewhere else to be or when you have small children with you begging to leave. Go when you have some time to experience it fully. Walk up and down the rows. Look. Smell. Touch. Wait until a book entices you to pull it off the shelf, and then take it down and open it expectantly. Look for what it has to tell you, to add to your experience in this life, to share with someone else. Feel the history of the place - the intersection of yesterday and today. Then pick something to take with you so the experience will touch tomorrow, too.

You'll be back.

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Friday, September 3, 2010

The Future has Arrived!

I just installed and started using the newest version of Dragon's Naturally Speaking software. Yes, I am writing this post by dictating it using Dragon Naturally Speaking 11. It's like magic. I speak, and the words magically appear on the screen.

I tried NaturallySpeaking for the first time about eight years ago. At that time, voice recognition technology wasn't as advanced as it is today, and I abandoned the effort after a few weeks because it took me so much longer to use the voice recognition software than it did to just type it myself. But things are different now.

I'm no stranger to dictation. In fact, I do just about all of my grant writing by dictation, and I have for the last 15 years. I resisted at first, because I really felt the need to see my thoughts on the screen as I was developing them, but my grant writing mentor convinced me to give it a try. After a couple of weeks of trial and error, I realized that I could speak much faster than I could type and when I dictated my grant I could write three times as much in the same amount of time. But that was with using a human transcriptionist. My experience with voice recognition software was that the time saved through dictation was lost again in correction.

However, here I am, trying voice recognition software for what is probably the fifth or sixth time and, finally, it works like I always imagined it should! One of the problems was that the software wasn't fast enough to keep up with my natural pace of speech, but the newest version is faster, and more accurate.

I remember the first time voice recognition software was really functional for cell phones. I felt like I had entered the world of Star Trek every time I commanded my phone, "Call home," and it actually did.

If you have been considering giving voice recognition software the chance, now might be the time to try it. Dragon NaturallySpeaking 11 is fast, accurate, and… magic.

Seriously, the future has arrived.

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