Today I have something a bit fun for you. A peek behind the curtain, if you will. Ready?

A bunch of writers I know recommended a speech to text program to me. They said it quadrupled their output, made first drafts fun and easy, and was generally the bees knees.

It was, honestly, pretty good.

But I found out that a) I get too self-conscious about someone hearing me say rude stuff to myself in my room, and b) I hate cleaning up the transcript. Also c) the raw transcripts are kinda hilarious.

So today, my friends, I present to you an example of a scene I spoke aloud to myself in my study, first the cleaned up version and then the transcript in all its naked, messy glory. I hope you find this as funny as I do.

(In this snippet from somewhere in Season Two, Jack has just given Channon a bath. I’m sure you can imagine it was very wet and sexy all round.)

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Cleaned First Draft (What I thought I said)

“There,” Jack said when he was done. He sat back on his heels, looking pleased and damp, his T-shirt blotchy with water and suds. “Up you get.”

Another thing Jack liked was toweling Channon down. Jack had good towels, great big fluffy things that wicked all the water away perfectly. He rubbed Channon down; Channon ducked his head to let Jack towel his hair; Jack bundled him up again with a bath sheet when he was done.

He moisturised Channon’s shoulders, down his back, watching Channon in the mirror with a wry look as he brushed his fingers across Channon’s ass. The lotion smelled of shea butter, creamy and delicious, and Jack worked it in between his cheeks, fingering him gently. Channon let himself breathe, let his head fall back, let his eyes close and his mouth open as Jack toyed with him.

And just as quickly Jack moved on, wiping his hands and then smearing fresh lotion down Channon’s calves. He had Channon sit on the sink and kick his foot up so Jack could stroke the soles of his feet and between his toes. He did it again to the other foot, glancing up to catch Channon watching, aroused, confused as to what, exactly Jack got out of this.

Jack’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re thinking.”

“I don’t know why you like this, Sir,” Channon confessed.

Jack nodded, his expression mild and unoffended. He swept his hands up Channon’s calves, smoothing lotion into his smooth skin.

“I like pampering you. It feels good, doesn’t it?” Channon nodded–it really did. Jack’s hands moved up his thighs until his thumbs rested in the creases of Channon’s hip. “And I like touching you. I think you know that by now.”

His eyes flickered up, now tilting into a smile, and his hands stroked Channon’s sides, skimming over his belly and up to flatten against his ribs.

“I like cleaning you and dressing you up. Then everyone can see my beautiful boy.”

He cupped a hand under Channon’s jaw, his thumb tracing Channon’s cheekbone. Jack’s eyes were deep hazel, glinting with amber highlights in the bathroom light. When he looked at Channon, Channon felt caught, magnetised, because those eyes! For those eyes he would do anything.

Jack smiled. He leaned in to brush a kiss across Channon’s mouth, but no more than that. “Come,” he said.

Moisturised as he was, Jack made him wear bathroom slippers to the bedroom, and then dressed him piece by piece. First it was silky boxer shorts, tight but comfortable—plain black, for which Channon was grateful. Jack had a new shirt for him, in pale, dusky teal, and it was smooth against his skin. It had faint pinstripes, a subtle texture, and Jack laid out a silk tie to go with it. The tie matched the socks, much to Channon’s amusement, white and emerald argyle. Channon wondered how much they cost—he’d never thought socks should cost as much as five dollars each, but he knew some of Jack’s were even more expensive. It seemed a ridiculous waste of money, but they were comfortable, and Jack liked them, and Channon liked what Jack liked.

The suit wasn’t new, in that Channon had worn it once before, but it was still new enough that Channon felt strangely dressed up once Jack had helped into his jacket. The suit was grey—no, Jack said it was charcoal. Jack fixed his sleeves with silver cufflinks, fixed his tie with a silver tie pin, tucked a pocket square into the jacket.

“You look good, Channon,” he said, though he reached up to mess with Channon’s hair.

He made Channon’s sit in a chair in front of the vanity while he dressed himself, much more quickly but with equal care, and then Jack took him out for dinner.

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Original Speech to Text (What It Heard)

“There,” Jack said, when he was done. He sat back on his heels, looking pleased and temp, his T-shirt blotched with water and suds. “To get.”

Another thing Jack liked was rubbing her Cowling Channon down. Jack had good tells, great big fluffy things licked all the water away perfectly. Jack rubbed him down now, ducked his head to let Jack tell his hair. Jack bundled him up again with a bath sheet and he was done, and gave Channon a cleanser, I don’t know, moisturiser. He revolutionaries Channon’s shoulders, down his back, watching Channon with a look as he did so. Lotion smelled like me in butter, creamy and delicious, and Jack worked it in between his past, fingering gently. Channon let himself breathe, and his head fall back, but his eyes closed and his mouth open as Jack toyed with him. And just as quickly Jack moved on, wiping his hands and then smearing fresh lotion down Channon’s calves he had Channon sit on the sink and kick his feet foot up, so Jack could moisturise his soles of his feet, and between his toes. He did against the other foot, and glanced up to find Channon watching him, aroused confused as to what, exactly Jack got out of this.

Jack’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re thinking.”

“And the way you like this, Sir,” Channon confessed knew paragraph Jack nodded, his expression mild and undefended. He swept his hand up Channon’s calves, smoothing lotion into his smooth skin. New caught “well, I like pampering you. Feels good, doesn’t it?” Channon nodded – it really did. Jack’s hands moved up his thighs, until his thumbs rested in the creases of Channon’s hip. “And I like touching you. I think you know that I now.” His eyes flickered up, now tilting into a smile, and his hands performed Channon’s sides, skimming over his belly and up to flatten against his ribs. “I like dreaming you, did he felt. Then everyone can see my beautiful boy,” the cupped a hand under Channon’s jaw, his thumb tracing on Channon’s cheekbone. Jack’s eyes went deep Hazel, glinting in the bathroom light with amber highlights. When he looked at Channon, Channon felt caught, magnetised, because these eyes, for these eyes he would do anything.

Jack smiled, leaned in the brush a kiss across Channon’s mouth, but no more than. “Come,” he said.

Moisturise as he was, Jack made him wear bathroom slippers to the bedroom, and then dressed him piece by piece. First it was silky boxers shorts, tight but comfortable, clean black for which Channon was grateful. Jack had a new shirt for Channon, the pale dusky keel, and it was smooth against his skin, simply so. There had faint pinstripes, a subtle texture, and Jack laid out and pulled tie to go with it. The time matched Channon’s socks, much to Channon’s amusement, white and emerald argyle in it. Channon wondered how much they cost – he’d never thought socks should cost as much as five dollars each, but he knew some of Jack’s were even more expensive. It seemed ridiculous waste of money, but they were comfortable, and Jack liked them, and Channon liked what Jack liked.

The suit wasn’t new, in that Channon had worn it once before, but it was still new enough that Channon felt strangely dressed up once Jack had him in the trousers, helped into his jacket. The suit was grey, Channon thought, but Jack said it was charcoal. Jack fixed his sleeves with silver cufflinks, fixed his tie with a silver type in, tucked pocket square into the jacket. “You look good, Channon,” he said, though he reached up to mess with Channon’s hair.

He made Channon’s it in a chair in front of the vanity while he dressed himself, much more quickly but with equal care, and then Jack took him out for dinner.

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And there you have it! The cleaned version still needs work, obviously, but you can see how much effort it is to make sense of my own gibberish and why I stopped using voice to text. (I know, it would have got better as I used it more but I am impatient and unreasonable.)

This snippet comes from an episode I cut from Season Two. Anyway, do you want me to clean up the whole thing? I could make it a season extra 😀

Feature image: Original Photo by Mike from Pexels