Home / Archives /

Have you ever waited impatiently for information that someone else promised to ferret out for you? Or sat in an interminable staff meeting, daydreaming about grabbing the reins and finishing the project on your own, with only yourself to rely on, blame, and congratulate? Writing by committee shares the pitfalls of any group activity -- coordination nightmares, mis-communicated responsibilities, and general chaos. Even technical writers occasionally lose track of things, and the lure of walking out and working on your own can be overpowering.

Unfortunately, it's not as easy, or rewarding, as it may seem. I am the Technical Writing Department for a small software company in Harvard Square, a distinction that I have held for the past three years. When I tell my peers about my job, they often get a little dreamy eyed thinking about being in charge of everything from the rough outline to the printed page. Invariably, they sigh softly and say "Gee, it must be great to be in charge that way": I usually agree whole-heartedly and change the subject (after all, who wants to admit that crawling out of bed before dawn may not be worth it), but the truth has a way of sighing back and admitting that there are times....

One of the most frequent problems I encounter is a feeling of isolation and, well, difference. I'm part of the development department at Programart, but I don't exactly fit in. In the organizational chart I'm on the same level as the five Project Leaders, each of whom reports directly to the VP of Development and manages several employees. In actuality, however, I'm a bit lower on the totem pole. Have you ever tried to get a programmer interested in page layout? Or in Ventura Publisher's kerning capabilities? (To be fair, I really can't get excited about TCBs, RBs, address spaces, and pointers either.) Our worlds just don't dovetail very well. And, although documentation is considered an integral part of the product at Programart, even its staunchest supporters have been known to let it slide in favor of the "really important stuff."

At the Project Leader meetings, I usually sit quietly and listen to the others discuss the technical issues facing the department. While I know they'd listen to any ideas or suggestions I made, my training really isn't up to adding much about the inner workings of IBM's operating system -- I don't document what goes on under the covers, so I've never really learned it. And debates over the proper usage of the past participle don't come up all that often.

Fortunately, I'm not completely alone. Our Quality Assurance Manager was an English Professor at BU in a former life, and he can answer my basic style questions, catch my grammatical blunders, and generally add polish to my literary efforts. I'm also blessed with a great group of developers who actually pay attention to the documentation and return it with comments. True, it takes some extra motivation now and then, but once they focus on the task, they do it well. I can't imagine working without their guidance -- one of my manuals usually goes through eight drafts which are reviewed by four to ten people. (The developers don't complain about this lengthy review cycle since they're responsible for the last-minute changes that necessitate the revisions, but it does leave them reading a mountain of paper.)

I also discovered another way to avoid "going it alone." I first became involved in the STC because some friends of mine were talking about an international conference in California, and the thought of going there on "business" seemed like a great idea. It didn't take long before I realized how much more the STC had to offer, and how much I'd missed talking to people who shared my devotion to perfect kerning and the ultimate use of white space. I learned more about writing from my first year in STC than I did while getting my M.A. in Communications, and I have to say that the ITCC conference in California was an incredible experience. In fact, I had so much fun there that I joined the InterChange Conference committee back here in Boston, and I know I'll end up on the ITCC conference committee some day.

So when you get fed up and do decide to blaze your own trail, don't forget to take some friends along with you. You never know when you're going to run into a wild past participle that you need help taming.