Old’e Skill new tools.

The joy of writing lusted with the advancement of technology…

Digital Pen Part I

C.S Grable

Recently with the advent of technology I am able to bridge the wide gap of handwriting to digital print. I added this magical item to my holster of creative weapons.

Its called a Smart pen, or Live Scribe.

This handy bit of technology wrapped into the size of a pen gives me the ability to write and digitally capture everything, save it, and then at my whim, download on to my computer where this program ( I’m sure it has gnomes running it, dashing back and forth decipher my cryptic hand writing) can dictate my voice and hand writing into a word program. Now imagine my delight and surprise, learning about a piece of gadgetry that could help my ancient bardic art of story telling, and ease the strain on my wrist. I nearly leaped from my seat and ran to the electronic store down the road that very moment, chai-ti in hand, and slippers afoot!

After some due diligent research, and countless hours thumbing through finger numbing internet pages of reviews I found that this pen was perfect for me, and my creative ventures.

Roar Book I. Chapter 1

I have the freedom to write in my own hand drawing on two decades of writing skill and the power of modern technology, I am able to in bardic tone, tell my tales by hand or by voice.

The pen has great versatile uses, mostly involving the 120 hours of digital audio recording. I’ve used the audio portion to speak aloud my stories and to tell them in a bardic rhythm, then taking them to print.

So far I have found no flaws in my pen, it is a bit larger in my hands then I’d care to write with, but with time and some practice it sits just as snug as any other  ball point pen. Some of the reviews warned of the pen getting hot, I had mine on for over four hours while on the train to California and had no problems what so ever.

The Smart pen is a wonderful device that allows me a great deal of choice. I’ve used it in the middle of the night, hitting the recorder and spilling my listless dreams to it, wondering in the morning what I was even talking about.