When I asked psychologists what actually mattered as they evaluated AI for psychological report writing, the answers came down to a short list of non-negotiables: they stay the author who reviews and signs, their client data stays in Canada under PIPEDA, the tool matches their own structure and length, and the drafts are defensible. Below are the vendor-neutral questions they told me to ask — criteria, not brand names.
I'll be upfront: I run one of the companies in this space, so I won't pretend I'm neutral about whether AI can help with the write-up. But I can pass along the criteria honestly, because the psychologists I talk to apply the same ones to any tool — including mine. They describe 10 to 15 hours of writing per assessment on top of the testing, so it's no surprise they're shopping for help. Here's how they told me they shop well.
The right tool drafts; the clinician decides what the report says. That's the line they judge every vendor against.
Does the tool keep the clinician as the author who reviews and signs?
This was the first question every psychologist raised, and they treated it as non-negotiable. They're signing their name to a legal document, so any tool that positions itself as making the interpretation or the decision was, in their words, disqualifying. The frame they wanted was narrow: the tool assembles a draft, and the clinician reviews, edits, and finalizes every word.
The question they said to put to a vendor directly: does your workflow assume I read and edit every draft before it's final, or is it built to hand off a "finished" report? The honest answer, they told me, is the first one. A drafting tool should feel like starting from a first pass in your structure — not like carving a blank template down every time, and not like receiving a black-box report you're expected to trust. If a vendor is vague about how much you're meant to review, they treat that as their answer.
Where does the client data actually live?
For a Canadian clinician, this is where a lot of tools quietly fail — and it was the question the psychologists I spoke with were most insistent on. They're handling sensitive client information, so they want to know, in writing, where that data is stored, whether it crosses the border, how long it's kept, and who can access it.
The factual bar they ask for: Canadian-owned, with data hosted in Canada, under PIPEDA (and PHIPA where it applies to them). A tool built and hosted in the United States is subject to different laws about who can compel access to data, regardless of how good the encryption is. Their advice: ask every vendor to state their data residency plainly and put it in the agreement.
"Where is my data at rest?" should have a one-sentence answer, in writing, before you sign up — the clinicians I talked to were firm on that.
One more question they raised, specific to these tools: if it works from a transcription of the session or intake, ask where that transcription is stored and whether it's retained. "We don't keep it" is a meaningfully different answer, they noted, from "it's stored indefinitely on a US server."
A note on what they told me not to accept: be wary of any vendor leaning on a US compliance acronym as if it settles Canadian privacy. Those frameworks are US law; for their college and their clients, PIPEDA and provincial rules are what matter. They ask for verifiable facts — where data lives, how it's encrypted, whether it's de-identified, what's retained — not a reassuring badge.
Does it match the psychologist's structure and length?
A tool can be perfectly capable and still cost time, they told me, if it produces a report in a shape they don't use. Assessment reports aren't one format — a psychoeducational report, a neuropsychological report, and an eligibility report each have their own sections, order, and length, and most psychologists have a house style on top of that.
So they ask to see it produce a draft in their sections, their order, and their typical length, on a report type they actually write. If it only outputs a generic structure they then reshape, they've moved the work rather than removed it. The whole point of structuring a report a certain way, as they explained it, is that it reflects their reasoning; a tool worth adopting should bend to that, not the other way around.
Are the AI-drafted reports defensible?
Defensibility is the bar this audience lives by, because these reports are read by referrers, physicians, schools, and sometimes courts and lawyers. Two things, the psychologists said, make a draft defensible: it stays grounded in what they actually observed and scored without inventing content, and it reads like their clinical reasoning rather than generic filler.
The question they put to a vendor: does the draft stay tied to the information I provide, or does it generate plausible-sounding content on its own? They want the former. A test several described running during a trial: check the draft against their own notes on a real, de-identified case, line by line — does anything appear that they didn't observe? Does it read like them, or like a form? What makes a psychological report hold up doesn't change because a draft was AI-assisted, they're clear; the standard is the same, and the tool has to meet it.
Who owns the tool, and will a college or employer approve it?
The best tool is worthless, they reminded me, if a regulator or employer won't allow it. Some colleges have issued guidance on AI in documentation, and some employers have their own policies, so a vendor should be able to hand over the paperwork — how consent is handled, what security measures are in place, and where data resides.
The question they ask: can you give me consent and security documentation I can show my college or my clinic's privacy lead? A serious vendor has that ready. This is also where Canadian ownership earns its keep, they told me: a company operating under Canadian privacy law, with data in Canada, is far easier to get approved. Lead with clinician control and documentation, they said, and a lot of the "can I even use this?" barrier disappears.
What questions did psychologists say to ask any AI report-writing vendor?
Here's the whole checklist in one place, the way they assembled it for me — copy it into your notes and ask every vendor the same things:
- Author control — Do I review, edit, and sign every draft? Is the workflow built around that?
- Data residency — Is data hosted in Canada, and is the company Canadian-owned? Will you put it in writing?
- Privacy framework — Do you operate under PIPEDA (and PHIPA where relevant)? What's retained, and for how long?
- Transcription handling — If it works from a transcription, where is that stored, and is it deleted?
- Structure fit — Can it draft in my sections, my order, and my typical length, on my report types?
- Grounding — Does the draft stay tied to what I provide, without inventing content?
- Defensibility — Does the output read like my reasoning and hold up to a referrer or a court?
- Approvability — Can you give me consent and security documentation for my college or employer?
If a vendor answers all eight cleanly, the psychologists told me, you've found a serious tool. If they get evasive on data residency or on how much you're expected to review, that tells you what you need to know.
That checklist is also the bar we hold ourselves to at Soma: you review, edit, and sign; data is hosted in Canada; drafts stay grounded in your own material. You can see a report drafted for you to review and sign and judge it against the eight questions above.
Thanks for reading, and thanks to the psychologists who told me, plainly, which questions actually matter. Whatever you choose — mine or anyone's — hold it to these criteria, and don't hand over your clients' data without knowing exactly where it lives.
— Ian
