I'm still slogging through transcription of interviews.

It is hard work, and my wrists are feeling the brunt of it. I really should be a faster typist by now.

I shouldn't complain. I actually enjoy this part of the process very much.

I remember the first interview I had to transcribe. It was during my university days, for my radio broadcasting class. Our teacher (famous for being a stubborn "my-way-or-the-highway" kind of guy) made us type out our first interview in its entirety. Our assignment was to find a senior citizen and ask them about their earliest childhood memory. I went to an old age home and was matched up with someone there. He was a really nice fellow. We talked for a couple of hours. His first memory was of a shiny red fire engine he got for Christmas ... and he went on from there. You can imagine how many pages I filled up.

Anyway, yes, my interview had to be transcribed word for word. And it stuck with me - not the interview itself, but the process. I never forgot how pleasantly mindless it all is - at least - I used to think it was mindless, but it's not. My brain is quietly humming and processing everything while I tap away. Subconsciously I am sorting out my thoughts and planning how the story is going to unfold.

Thankfully, I've gotten better at it over the years. As I listened to my interviews over again from the perspective of an eavesdropper, not the interviewer, I quickly learned where I was making mistakes.

One of the things I've learned is what I call the Shut Up Principle. I'm always thinking about it when I'm interviewing someone for a piece I'm writing. It's still a struggle, but I'm improving. I try not to interrupt, interject, or put words in my interviewee's mouth. And I try not to talk about myself. I did a lot of this early on. I never realized it until I was playing back the audio. The person would tell me something about themselves and I'd hear the recorded version of myself pipe up and say "I did that too!" or relate my own witty tale. Ugh. It made me cringe when I listened to myself.

I figured out why I was doing it. I wanted the person to like me, to trust me, to open up to me and tell me more. But I don't think it ever worked. On playback it just sounded ridiculous. After all, this is not about me, it's about them.

Now when I do an interview, I let them talk. I even let awkward silences remain awkward and silent. More often than not the interviewee will fill the gap. I certainly don't need to step in with any tidbit of my own. This is not a normal conversation. It's an interview.

Before I started the blog side of this project I struggled with how I could write about Ms.D without revealing her real name. Clearly the way to go was to make up a name. But it couldn't be Betty or Jasmine or Diane. It had to be something meaningful.

Ms.Direction refers to a time when she got lost - and I don't mean this in a figurative sense, she was actually lost. Ms.D is a runner (this is not a full-time occupation, it is what she does when she's not working), and it was during a run that she took a wrong turn. There is a deeper story here, but I will say that she got lost through no fault of her own. I hope she doesn't mind my saying this, but she felt pretty stupid getting lost (don't we all?) and beat herself up over it for awhile.

I don't think she does anymore - beat herself up that is - I think she's able to see it for what it was. When she first told me that story it really stuck. I couldn't shake it. I think of her and I see a compass. She lost her way and found it again. Metaphorically, she has path that she has defined for herself. And it's a good one. She has direction. We all need direction. I think it's too easy a thing to forget.

I have been getting this question a lot lately - over coffee, over sushi lunch with a friend, and in the school yard. I stumble over my answer every time.

Well, I say. It's going!

I compare this project to taking a flight. The airplane I'm sitting in has been making its way down a very long runway. We need to gather enough speed before lift off ... and to do so prematurely might result in a tangle of burning metal.

Ms. D and I have agreed to do weekly interviews and reassess after six months. So we're still hurtling down that runway.

Our weekly chats have been incredibly interesting and insightful. This is what happens when one person really talks and another person really listens. During the interview I keep having to remind myself that I'm this is not an ordinary conversation.

A normal conversation is a two way street, both parties doing their share of talking, listening, and asking of questions. But what Ms. D and I are doing is almost entirely one-sided. I'm the one asking all the questions and she's the one doing all the talking. But it's more than that. She's remembering, she's having to analyze her own thoughts, feelings and words. I can't imagine what it's like to be in her shoes.