I’m currently working on two new blog posts, one about Techfest back in January and the other about this year’s trip to Dayton for Hamvention. Why mention these and not publish them already? When I originally purchased this domain and associated hosting package, I made two resolutions:
1) I would make at least one entry a month.
2) That entry was not to be a “I’m busy,” or some other sort of status that indicates I don’t have enough time to tend to correspondence.
So, since I cannot skip my duty or break my own self imposed promise- backslider!- I thought that while I continue to work on my other two articles (in addition to some other writing projects I’m currently developing) I could instead take this months entry to talk about how I actually create what it is you are reading now. I’m not sure if this will be interesting or helpful to anyone; since I’m paying the bill and it is interesting to me, I’m going to write about it in the hopes it will help someone else looking to improve their craft of technical writing, if there is anything within that is helpful, of course.
Start With an Outline
Specifically, though, I’m interested in discussing the technical merits of my writing. And when I say technical merits, I don’t mean grammar, spelling or what to write about (which should be about what you know or what you’ve learned). I mean to talk about the actual mechanical process of writing. You know, the kind with pen and paper.
I use pen (Pilot V5) or pencil (Mitsubishi Hi-Uni HB) when writing; I prefer pencil when I am “sketching” out my thoughts and use pen when I am making notes or know I’m not going to be in a place where I can easily sharpen a pencil. I probably prefer writing in pencil since having to stop and sharpen seems to help me gather my thoughts at just the right time. Paper is important in that it cannot suffer from bleed through; I use legal pads and they seem to work well. Notebooks in your pocket are always nice to have for when you have that thought you need to put down on paper for your later consideration.
I prefer to actually write by hand, on paper, my thoughts for my first outline. After I start writing on paper and sketch out the main idea I’d like to tackle in some quasi-outline form, I’ll let the outline draft sit for a couple days, usually a week, though rarely it’s longer. I’ll come back to the paper and mark it up. I’ll strike through sentences and rewrite something else in between the lines. This will happen until the paper becomes an absolute mess of arrows and words just sitting there, encircled in a vain attempt at grabbing attention. I rewrite this once or twice more until there aren’t any errant marks or incongruities that I can see.
First Draft
I’ll start to see what I’m really trying to say and begin the process of writing the first draft with that nugget in mind. I learned the art and science of composition the only way it had been done- by hand- and while I enjoy the word processor and other modern devices used to aid ourselves in these communicative endeavors, I simply don’t feel creative staring at a blank screen. I don’t think I’d have done any better with the word processors predecessor the typewriter; the cold chill I get from the mere thought of a blank piece of paper in a typewriter or the sterile canvas on my screen is just, for me, unappealing. Not so if I have the dirty work in my hands. I want to make a very large, but organized, mess on a blank piece of paper. Not being now or ever known for drawing, I suppose it’s as close to practicing some sort of “drawing art” that I’m ever going to have.
I find that I’m able to more quickly and accurately get the first draft down with handwriting as opposed to typing. And while this naturally adds the extra error inducing step of transcription, I find that this time risk is worth it and actually works well as an editing step later on in the process.
Assemble Components
Maybe some people can write for long periods of time, but I’m not one of them. I line up my pencils before I start, all pre-sharpened, all ready to go. Oh, and I never erase anything in the first drafts. I don’t understand the point of doing so and I would absolutely caution others about wasting time erasing instead of writing. A strike through is enough for me to figure out I was heading down a bum path. After all, the only person who has to be able to read my handwriting is me. The smudge of the eraser- to remove that errant thought or misspelling- can never truly be eliminated anyway. I’ve probably made quite a few errors in this missive so far- but the secret to any good writing is to get something out. Anything and lots of it. You can always revise it in the hopes of it being able to take a polish or, more commonly, you’ll have to toss it into the box of “to be revisited.” I’d say throw it out, and the catharsis from that would be great, but you are often better off saving the stillborn in hopes the cure may eventually come.
I’m not sure why I prefer pencils to pens- I mainly use pens for taking notes when I’m working on a physical project of some sort. I got a very bright idea from Charles, K4CSO, about carrying a double headed Sharpie in my pocket so that no matter where I find myself, I can use either the large or small point for whatever it is I’m trying to do.
Prototyping is Expensive
After a couple of hand rewrites on paper, I begin to transcribe what I’ve written to the computer. And there are still errors, flaws in grammar and a very real and urgent sense that what I’m trying to communicate isn’t as clear as I would like it to be. I often find I’ve made the same point a number of different ways in the initial draft and so I eventually have to choose. What was it that I meant? How did I get into this business of creation and how can I make it work? And so I type and cut and cut and cut more until it looks like maybe, just maybe, I made a point worth making. Then you wait some more, give it one last once over and then hit “submit,” and it’s done, warts and all.
I don’t know a single person who has ever done a lot of writing who has not felt like taking all of it- computer, dog eared books with accompanying sticky notes and highlighted comments, pencils, pens, paper and anything else and throwing it out the window while muttering under their breath, “take that!” It’s really something else when you are trying to be clear and crisp and parsimonious with your words, words that you mean for others to enjoy.
When you’ve had the thought above, frequently, you’re probably on the right track.