You’ll notice all the “heroic journalism” movies never include an extended transcribing scene: who wants to look at a grimacing journalist as they listen back to a recording of their own clumsily phrased questions? But here I am, in a cramped aeroplane economy seat, doing just that. “Free” travel time always feels like a waste; you might as well get some work done.
I do this a lot on planes. Whether in the dead of night or with bright sunlight streaming through the tiny reinforced windows, I can be found listening to myself. Usually I’m pushing to get something (and it doesn’t always matter what), coaxing another, far more interesting person into vulnerability of some sort. And because everything feels heightened when you’re cruising at 39,000ft, I am also cringing extra-hard at the sound of my own voice. Does my laugh really go that high? Did I just… snort? It’s agony, like a bracing sprint through the valley of self-consciousness.
I have heard myself cut off interviewees on the verge of something that, with hindsight, was clearly going to be a moment of searing insight, only to sheepishly ask them, a minute later, to go back and finish that thought. How embarrassing.
On the other hand, all that listening can turn transcribing into a sort of amateur analysis hour, and that is no bad thing. You identify your own weak spots and tweak as you go; when professionally required to listen to yourself, that is all you can do. Over time, each new personal session should add up to something that sounds a little like growth.
