Technically Speaking

Technical writers are technically not just writers. They are interpreters, translators, communicators, and psychologists. Decent ones are also psychic and prescient. As such, I lament that I cannot hope to be even a decent one...

Although I am not a very good technical writer, I believe I can reasonably identify the results produced by one. Looking back upon the career of what would be the most successful example, I predict something like the following would be said...

"Mr. X delivered all his content in a concise, entertaining and seemingly effortless fashion. His readers found his material so appealing that learning was mysteriously converted from a chore to an irresistible obsession through his pen. Technical hurdles were not confronted, but dissolved as participants absorbed mountains of interrelated technical constructs in hypnotic fashion, not realizing the uncanny transfer of knowledge. He empowered the world with faculties never before imagined. The collective human capacity increased exponentially as a result of his eloquence. Hunger, war, corruption, violence, and all ailments that once contributed to human suffering were dispatched with fluency in his wake. The world we live in now, with its enlightened and mysterious glow of transcendent bliss, can be almost entirely attributed to the work of Mr. X. Once exposed to his contributions, no soul can return to their former depraved existence, and virtually all now share in the endless bounty of life, love, and happiness.

Yet, we never knew who Mr. X actually was. In fact, we cannot explain or even identify what he actually wrote, as his work was generally not signed. We can only identify his writing by the one characteristic..the mark of authenticity: that everything he wrote is so familiar and seemly that upon exposure we instantly believe that we already knew it. This poses a conundrum for most: how do we discern between the abilities he delivered to us, and those we discovered on our own?

There are a few with capacity to separate those concepts learned from Mr. X and those obvious to them before. This quiet minority still defends Mr. X against his assailants; the masses who attacked him for his efforts. How could anyone antagonize Mr. X, you ask? It is quite easier than you might think. While opening doors, Mr. X also revealed new ones that exposed dangerous complexities. By revealing the nature of our existence, Mr. X brought many proud souls to their knees in frustration, horrified to observe aspects of nature they had so long concealed. Many would not accept the responsibility of the truth, shielding their eyes from the empowering language before them, terrified. Many, ill-prepared for authority over their own lives, could only recoil to the shadows, perpetual victims. Still others refused to acknowledge his submissions altogether, and roamed in a meandering stupor of ignorance and confusion, unconsciously begging for meager scraps that they could neither assemble nor digest. Many were easily assimilated by the terrified. What Mr. X offered, while true, was not popular to a powerful minority who tended to occupy far less than they believed, and had far more to gain than they were capable of imagining. To absolve their fear, Mr. X was compromised materially and physically; two aspects of his existence that were of little value of him compared to the value he placed on his offerings for posterity. It is quite curious that, as a technical writer, he seemed not to have objectives beyond technical writing itself. Few today engage in this trade for amusement.

But was it only for amusement? His motives were mysterious and uncomfortable. He seemed not to write for income or esteem. The removal of fear was not his goal, as his writing did far more to provoke than relieve it. For what sake he acted is mysterious. A man without chains is threatening by nature. We confront one with nothing to lose as we confront a suicide bomber itching for destruction. How do we negotiate with one as comfortable with death as life? What truth can there be in his words? What can we have in common with such a figure? We take comfort and delight in he who can be bribed, rewarded, or punished. Mr. X, while qualified as a technical writer, was lacking in these most important worldly skills...

So today, after the conclusion of Mr. X's short and miserable life, we tip our hat to the technical writer who gave us everything we have. We also blame him for all of our problems and we scorn him for not giving us more than he did. Indeed, only a cruel heart can have such power and yet leave worldly suffering intact. Most importantly, we accuse him of exposing truth about the nature of some things we might have rather left hidden. For that, he may never be forgiven. I conclude by insisting that Mr. X's words be attacked until the end of time, or until they are refuted, whichever comes first."

Test Audience

If I have seemed aloof here, it's because I'm working on my next project. Consequently, my inspirations are usually funneled in that direction these days. So, here is a recent snippet on the subject of note entry (or, just more shameless self-promotion from a struggling tech writer).

Ah yes, entering the actual notes and stuff. I’d like to say you will be able to follow my exact instructions and then soar like an eagle as a fluent Finale typist entering one thousand notes a second at your slightest passing whim. That will not happen. As I strap you into the hanglider I won’t make assurances you’ll get a feel for it when you’re airborne. I’ll be realistic. This might take a bit of getting used to…

The problem with entry isn’t a particularly difficult interface. Finale’s options are virtually limitless and you can almost certainly find a method that works well for you. But, it is sometimes difficult to discover the one that best matches your unique abilities and requirements. Do you like to press buttons or are you the point-and-click type? Are you drawn to the dark inner secrets of Finale’s Transcription Mode, or perhaps a slave to your MIDI guitar? I can’t claim to know these things (thankfully), and I certainly can’t begin to suspect the outrageous ideas you you have in mind for your composition.

So, when you fly off the ledge, I will wish you well, and expect you’ll be somewhat prepared to avoid disaster on the way down. Yes, the wind may bite and you might lose some altitude as you figure it all out. Just stay calm. Things will work out. If they don’t you probably won’t feel a thing anyway.

Micro Managing

A quick glance into my dysfunctional parallel life as a technical writer:

If your personality has a power-hungry, dictatorial, control-freak bent, you are perfectly positioned to utilize Finale to its fullest potential. You may be relieved to hear that it doesn’t whine, protest, or file frivolous lawsuits. It will never strike, pull strings behind the scenes, or engage in all-out rebellion. As long as you stick to a few simple principles, no amount of abuse can possibly hurt Finale’s feelings.

Of course, break one of these basic principles and Finale’s personality may suddenly change. And when it does you will curse the upturned nose of the Special Tools Tool , or shake your fist at the evil eye of the Articulation Tool . But, alas, the tools do not hear your screams. Finale was always just a combination of 1s and 0s, and it was only your composition that was touching and beautiful. When it comes right down to it, you brought your creation into the world despite the cold arrangement of bits, not because of it.

We all compose with the same combination of 1s and 0s, and there is little reason to fear the incredible power that comes with it. How you employ your own monarchical/tyrannical rule over Finale is up to you, but when the evil eye returns, it’s nothing personal. You probably just didn’t listen to something I said.

a

Spring is the best time of year to take a casual stroll along the crowded patch surrounding Lake Harriet. I enjoy watching the first sailboats appear in the marina, the activity, the glistening water, the gentle breeze of life restored to the same route frozen in icy desolation only weeks before. And on these walks I am often recognized by so many friendly faces. It seems like whether they are walking their dogs or casting their lines, everyone is anxious to chat. Oh, of course, it's weather, or baseball, or maybe a bit of politics. But, I know what they really want to hear - all roads seem to lead to the same thing. How many times have I heard it: "Mark, so tell me really, how did you get your start in technical writing."

Who am I to deprive them the tale. And, the several hundred who have asked now have the story in written form to relive over and over again.

It started in fourth grade. I had walked into the second day of typing class and sat before an enormous monitor. It sat on top of two floppy 5 1/4" disk drives, each slot guarded with a black lever. The screen was black aside from a curious green bar blinking in the upper left corner. I had plenty of experience with computers already, having mastering such intense programs as Number Munchers and Oregon Trail.

I remember placing my hands on the keyboard, typing slowly...asdf;lkj. asdf ;lkj. Soon, we had crossed into exiting territory. I was learning fast. I had discovered, in a functional way, how to type...fad, lad, ask dad, has sad dad had salad. I could imagine it already. Soon my fingers would fly as I learned the systematic method for transcribing words, sentences, paragraphs. Without even thinking I would soon dictate my thoughts lucidly in pristine, legible courier.

Then, it was time to learn capitals. Our instructor carefully described the method...

"Press the Shift key and then press the letter a."

Alright, easy enough. Now I would learn how I was to begin every sentence in my rich volumes. I did exactly as she said. I moved my pinky to the Shift key, pressed, and then typed a.

a

a

aaa

How could this be. I looked at the monitor next to mine...

A

How did she do that?

I tried it fast, slow, hard, soft, nothing seemed to work. I looked at the monitor to the other side...A. Oh no! Was there something wrong with my keyboard? Then, the teacher said it again...

"Press the Shift key and then press the letter a."

Once I tried it really fast and really hard, and I got it...A. YES! But, I could only get it about half the time. It seemed like the faster and harder I pressed Shift and then the "a" key, the more likely it was to be capital.

The lesson was over for the day and I stepped down off my chair and walked out of class. I had become frustrated and disappointed. How would the world see my genius now? With all lower case? Was I a "lower case" person after all? Something so simple to everyone else was just too embarrassing to mention. It laid heavy on my mind in the subsequent hours and through the weekend.

Half the sentences in my first assignments began in the lower case. My grades were not good.

Soon enough the seeds of a technical writing career were born. The next week a frustrated 10 year old boy pecked at the top of his next assignment...

"To type a letter in upper case, hold down the Shift key. Then, while holding down Shift, type the letter."

I can't be certain, but I like to imagine my unique typing style is a relic.