Built for the half hour when you are nowhere near the desk.
Hands free, on a walk
Say “Project Jinn, character, Tom” and it beeps and starts a note. Say “dictate done” and it files itself and waits for the next one. Every command is prefixed, so a note can contain the words done, idea, character and project freely.
It knows what kind of thought it was
Character, plot point, idea, theme, arc, dialogue, a scene, a chapter — the words follow the project’s own format, so a screenplay hears Scene and Beat where a textbook hears Section and Subsection.
A walk arrives already divided
Say a group once — “dictate group casting” — and it sticks until you change it. Six thoughts under one heading, and the desk opens on them grouped rather than in one pile.
Nothing is lost when the signal goes
Every note is written to the phone before it is sent, and sent one at a time as it closes. Out of range, they wait — written down, visible, and gone the moment there is a bar of signal.
The desk places, the phone captures
Nothing is filed into your manuscript by a phone. At the desk each note is a card you drag into a folder, a character, the Outliner or the Story Sculptor — or correct on the way past.
It reads back what it heard
Two tones told apart by direction, not pitch, because a walk is not a quiet room — and Read it back speaks the note exactly as it stands before you let it go.