The OC (Week 16)

This post is part of an ongoing series.

Final Exam

Two weeks ago, I wrapped up my Technical Writing class with a final exam. It was a little experimental (Courtney said more than once, "I've certainly never had a final like that!"), but it went perfectly.

In case I didn't mention it before, Courtney joined us for the final exam period. I asked the class if they were cool with that back in Week 15, and they insisted they had no problem. She wanted to come out of idle curiosity, mainly as a result of reading this blog, and I had no objections.

So she showed up Thursday afternoon, a couple minutes before one o'clock, and the vast majority of my students were already there and in their seats. I was at the front of the class, by the computer station, getting things ready for the class session, and she came timidly into the classroom, crossed in front of the blackboard, and asked me where she should sit that would be unobtrusive and out of the way.

I'm mean sometimes. I sent her to the chair at the teacher's desk, front and center.

Cookie Platter

I wasn't trying to be mean. It was really the only place I had for her. The students were arrayed on the outside of their inverted-U of tables, and though there was a table tucked in the middle of the room (where I'd sat while observing the presentations), I had big plans for the middle of the room, so I couldn't really send her there.

I was also standing at the computer station and not starting class for a very particular reason. I was buying time, waiting for all of my students to arrive, and also deliberately standing so as to conceal a cookie platter T-- had made for my students. I didn't want to spoil the reveal by having someone walk in late and spot a half-hidden cookie platter, y'know?

Anyway, once the classroom was full, I turned on the overhead projector with just the empty desktop of my school-issued laptop showing, and that got everyone's attention. All eyes snapped to the screen, and then I stepped back, brought forth the cookie platter, and headed to the table in the middle of the room to set it down.

I was halfway there when someone said, "Are those cookies?"

I explained that T-- had wanted to send cookies for my students all semester, but I'd kept objecting because I thought it would be too distracting. Then I finally relented on the one day when their participation counted for 10% of their grade. Hardly fair. Nobody complained, though.

I was in the grip of la grippe, so I left the cookies wrapped in their plastic and stepped back to the front of the room. "I need somebody else to unwrap them," I said, and about two heartbeats later Sean -- seated in the middle of the back row, and as far from the cookies as possible -- leaped over the tables to take care of business. He got them unwrapped, then passed the tray around, which was quite calm and orderly.

Chaos and Disorder

The next step was the one that denied Courtney a seat in the middle of the room. I told them I had their graded semester projects ready to return, and I'd call out their names. After they came to retrieve their grade sheets, they were to remain standing in the center of the room instead of returning to their seats. (That was an important step that turned out to be totally useless.)

Once everyone was standing in the middle of the room (and they were sort of packed in like livestock), I explained that we were going to divide up for the day's activity. Unlike previous activities where each group worked on its own version of the assignment, today's activity would require three different groups, working on different aspects of one product. So I explained that the table on the right would be for the Documentation Group, the table on the back would be for the Software Group, and the table on the left would be for the Publishing Group. I told them to take their best guesses which group would most suit them, and go sit down.

Everyone sat down pretty much exactly where they'd been before.

The Assignment

Next, I explained to them the assignment. Just as I've said here before, my goal was to have the students create a wiki to demonstrate their ability to learn a new document type without my guiding hand. So I pointed to the screen at the front of the room, that showed my blank desktop, and told them my goal was for them to have a full-featured wiki including the contents of all of their weekly tutorials up on that monitor by the end of the class period. By that point, it was a little over an hour and a half.

Then...I sat down at the front of the room. And I looked at them. I may have given a little bit of an indication what each group should do, but it certainly wasn't anything that could be described as "directions." I did ask a couple of my students on the back row if they'd completed wikis of their projects for extra credit (Sean and Will, both of whom had asked for permission to do that, and both answered that they had), and that was meant to give them a nudge toward helping the rest of the class figure it out. It worked.

Not right away, though. The next ten minutes were brutal. I had about two minutes of deer-in-the-headlights from the whole classroom, and then my two with experience (both in the Software Group) leaned their heads together and started talking, and got a couple others from the Software Group chiming in before too long. I listened to their chatter for a little while, to get an idea where they were headed, and then gave them a nudge in the right direction, and listened for a little while more.

The Software Group and the Publication Group ended up both being composed primarily of technical people, so by that point the Publication Group was pretty involved in the conversation, too. The Documentation Group (my English Majors) were sitting off on the right still waiting to find out what they were supposed to do.

So I finally addressed that. I explained to them briefly what a wiki was -- a type of simplified markup language -- and that they would need to take the highly-formatted, styled Word documents I'd used for their weekly tutorials, and convert them into flat text files with some simple markup. I suggested they get to work downloading the tutorials from the class website, figure out how they were going to distribute the workload, and then start making guesses as to how they would do the conversion. They wouldn't know for sure until the Software Group settled on a wiki platform, but they could do some prep work while they waited.

In Production

Then I headed back over to the Software Group, and I said, "What you'll probably want to do, first, is choose which wiki platform you're going to use--"

And Will cut me off to say, "We just did that."

I went on, "And then this group is probably going to divide up, half of you going to support the Documentation Group as they convert the existing documents into the right format, and half of you going to support the Publication Group as they figure out how to get those documents up for us to see, within the next hour."

They nodded, then immediately got to their feet. Will went one way, Sean went the other, and they became Management. It was kind of awesome.

After that, I was done. It was their final exam, after all. I sat at the front of the room and chatted with Courtney, eavesdropping on their discussions, but most of the corrections I would have made ended up getting caught by Will or Sean before I had the chance.

It was only a few minutes into that (maybe ten or fifteen), when I asked Will what address they were using, and Courtney was able to pull it up on her laptop. From that point on, while we were discussing writing or Wil Wheaton, or whatever, we were also scrolling through the wiki as it was under construction. I was impressed with the draft version. I was really impressed with the changes they had in place by the half-hour mark. And at the end of the period, while they were still scrambling to get a couple of the more complicated chapters put together, I asked Will to step up to my laptop and present the finished product to me.

He shook his head. "It's not ready yet!"

I said, "That's okay. Show me what you've got." I didn't say it in a menacing way, either. I was prepared to grade them based on what they'd finished, not the page or two that were still undone.

He wasn't satisfied with that, though. He said, "Give us a few more minutes. It's almost done."

As he said that, from one end of the Publication Group table I heard, "Five's done!" and down at the other end, "Seven should be up now." And Will scurried off to oversee the finishing touches.

In the end they all stayed a little bit late, just to present a polished product. It was phenomenal. It was so much better than I'd hoped for, especially given the short time limit.

(If you're curious, you may be able to see a copy of it here. I have no idea how long that site will be live, but it's there for now.)

I'd had some closing words prepped, to finish off the semester, and after seeing their work I wanted to go into detail with praise, but there was no time. All I could tell them is, "Well done! You've earned a one hundred. Thank you guys for being awesome!" And then I sent them on their way.

Retrospective

Knowing what I know now, I could have made the final session go a little more smoothly. I don't think I could have possibly gotten any better results, but I could have left the students a little more comfortable with their role. Then again, that's pretty much true for the whole semester.

And I'm not beating myself up for that. This was my first time teaching. Wow.

Anyway, one thing I experimented with there in the final -- dividing them into purpose-based groups -- is something I think I'd like to do from the start if I ever teach the class again. On day one, I'd divide them into those groups -- with those titles -- and let them rearrange through the course of the semester if they wanted, and sometimes divide them up in support roles and sometimes combine them, based on the project, but give them a chance overall to develop some sort of consistent group identity, apart from "we're sitting within arm's reach."

I do wish I'd had another assignment or two in there, and I wish I'd had in-class activities for nearly every class I didn't have one for. I put that down to limited prep time from being a first-timer, though. Same goes for the uncertainty of their schedule (flip-flopping on due dates), but I think I could be a lot more confident about that on a second go-round.

Apart from that...I'm awesome. I know the class was satisfactory to the powers-that-be, I think the class was useful to the student, and I'm amazed how much I gained from the experience. My students were all amazing people, and I'm glad I got to meet them. And, y'know, I discovered I could do something I never would have thought possible. It was bigger and better than NaNoWriMo. I'd never have guessed.

And that's it. Hope you've enjoyed the updates. Let me know if you have any questions. I'll let you know if they ask me back for more.

The OC (Week 15)

This post is part of an ongoing series.

Season Finale

We have officially left the regular season. Post-season takes place tomorrow. Or something like that. Whatever.

Week 15 marked the last week of regular classes for the semester, and we finished it by finishing up our presentations. Tuesday saw some technical difficulties, and Thursday saw some more, but the brightest minds in OC's IT department are in my class, so we got it all worked out.

A Polite Reminder

We finished up on Tuesday with fifteen minutes to spare, and I just let them out early. As I headed toward the podium to pack up my laptop I said offhand, over my shoulder, "See you Thursday."

Then I stopped, turned to glare them all in the eye (that's right, thirty-two eyes all at once, it's a professor thing), and I said with a dread pronunciation, "See you Thursday."

A chuckle went around the class, but I got numerous affirmations from those who'd missed the previous Thursday, and then they fled the room.

It worked. Thursday we had a full class, and I was able to give some last-minute clarification concerning the Final with the confidence of knowing everyone was there. That was nice.

Semester Projects

Thursday was also the due date for Semester Projects. They'd haggled a midnight deadline earlier in the semester, so that held and they had until the very last seconds of Thursday to get the document turned in for full credit. Someone else (I'll let you guess who) had worn me out with his arguments and convinced me to accept late work, too, but I instituted a 5% per day penalty for it.

There was some discussion whether that should be pro-rated, or lump sum, and the arguments on both sides of the debate were pretty compelling. I ended up pro-rating, because I like my students.

Anyway, I got all the projects over the weekend, and they're now all graded. They turned out awesome. I remember that being one of the things the class was most famous for when I took it, and at the beginning of the semester when I asked my students what they knew about the class they were signed up for, the project was the only bit any of them had any clear ideas on.

I had some concerns that the reputation of the semester project might fade with a new professor at the helm, but for now I think it's safe. They did some really cool stuff, and nearly all of the finished projects are going to be terribly useful. Several of them will even be useful to me.

Homework

I made that all sound like a lot of fun, but those four words up there -- "they're now all graded" -- actually represent a pretty miserable experience. Who knew semester projects could be such work for professors? Both of my parents are teachers, so I've heard grumbling and complaining about having stuff to grade all my life, but I didn't really get it, until I found myself with a mountain of stuff to grade.

It's no fun at all. Just horrible. I really don't recommend it. If you're teaching a class, go all California-hippie on them and don't do grades. Or quantum physicist and assign grades completely at random. That would have to be better than actual analytical numeration. Blech.

(I've also been coming down with a cold in the same days that I've been going through that process, so it could be having an impact on my attitude. Time will tell, I suppose.)

Anyway, it's done. It's done and it's done and it's done. I've got Finals on Thursday, and I'm confident everyone will show up, and the minute that's over, I should be able to turn in final grades and be done with the class. How cool is that?

More next week (or, conceivably, tomorrow).

The OC (Week 14)

This post is part of an ongoing series.

Presentations
I mentioned it in the last post, but we're done with lectures and mostly done with the tutorials (more on that in a minute). That just leaves presentations, and the final.

We started the presentations this week, with four presentations a class period over four periods (in two weeks). Two of my four presenters on Tuesday had skipped the assignment that had them sign up for a presentation spot (on Google Docs), so they found out about it for the first time when I sent out a reminder email on Sunday.

To their credit, they both did surprisingly well.

Honestly, I haven't seen a presentation yet as bad as mine would have been (and, in fact, was, back when I took the class). They're farther along with their semester projects than I really expected, too, which is encouraging. I'm looking forward to seeing their finished products, so I'm glad to see it's not all going to be last-minute stuff.

Empty Seats
Thursday's lectures were a little better, really -- which is to be expected, given that they had more time to prepare, and got to learn from the presentations that went before. Unfortunately for the presenters, though, there weren't nearly as many people around to be impressed. We had right at half of our class show up.

That, too, shouldn't be much of a surprise. After all, it was the first time all semester that we'd met in class on a Thursday. To be fair, I warned them about that on the first day of class, and before Thanksgiving break, and then I sent out an email last Sunday (as I mentioned) reminding them about presentations this week.

I had a brief bout of guilt, worrying that my own attitude about the last couple weeks (being so much easier on me, since I'm just listening to presentations) had been conveyed to my students somehow, and they were slacking off because I was. Then I remembered the Thursday thing, though (and got emails from a couple of my students citing exactly that), and I let myself off the hook.

Textbook Execution
One thing I had been slacking off on was their final tutorial. All of the rest had to be done by specific dates, to match up with their assignments. There was one last one that I'd promised them, though, that didn't really map directly to any work they were doing. Way back in week 9, I did a big presentation showing them how to build an automated Table of Contents and generally take advantage of all the extra work we've been doing to build a powerful, long-form document. I flew through the process in class, though, and gave them no exercises or anything to reinforce it. Instead, I said, "This'll probably end up as a tutorial at some point."

I'd meant to get that to them the week before Thanksgiving, but it was the week before Thanksgiving, so I didn't. I kept thinking about doing it during Thanksgiving break, but I was on break, so I didn't. Whenever I started feeling guilty about that, I reminded myself that my students didn't really care.

Then Monday morning I got an email from one of them asking me how to make a Table of Contents, because she needed it for her semester project, and I immediately felt like a super jerk. I sent her a quick answer, and then got to work writing my tutorial.

It was a complicated one, though, because I had to walk through some of the more advanced tools in Word. Not only that, I had to handle some pretty nit-picky exceptions to make it come out perfect, but I was trying to express how simple the whole process really was, even while explaining why those exceptions were doing what they were doing. Then I needed screenshots to illustrate it, and I needed to put together all the resources they would need to follow along with the tutorial, and make those available on the website.

It was a real task, is what I'm getting at, but I finished it last night. The title for the tutorial was "How to Build a Book," and it took all the tutorials I've made all semester and bound them together in a single textbook. It ends up looking pretty nifty, and it tops 100 pages even without the lecture information and assignment descriptions (that I would definitely include in it, if I were making it a standalone book).

Anyway, I have no idea if that will actually be useful to any of my students (since the one who asked me about it presented her document yesterday, and she'd clearly figured the ToC out using just my quick email), but I'm glad to have it done.

Final Thoughts
The only other issue I've been dealing with this week is their Final Exam. I've been told I need to have a Final Exam period, but that a test isn't really necessary. I told them early in the semester that they would have an option of building a wiki instead of taking the Final Exam, just because a big ugly test doesn't really mesh at all with the way I've been teaching the class.

As I really started thinking through the logistics of it, though, the wiki alternative seemed unrealistically complicated, and any test I would have (for those who didn't want to take the alternative) would be just a huge waste of time. There has been no memorization in this class at all (it doesn't make sense in tech writing), so I would have just made them show up in class to read a bunch of questions, flip through their textbook for answers, write those answers down, and then go home. I wrote their textbook, and it's way too straightforward for any of that to be a useful experience.

So I finally decided to nix the original plan, and instead I told them all to show up for the Final Exam period, and we're going to build a single wiki as a group project. That should be a lot less stressful for those who would have built individual wikis, it should be a lot more useful for those who would have taken the test, and I think it could actually be a fun experience. We'll see.

Between now and then, though, I've got eight more presentations to grade, and about a bajillion pages of papers to grade.

More next week.

National Novel Writing Month 2009 Post Mortem

I can't believe it's over.

I did finish NaNoWriMo. I'm a winner. I could post a JPEG proving it, but it doesn't really, so I won't.

I took a strange path to 50,000 words this year, cobbling together scenes from three different novels in two genres, an open-ended collaborative writing project, and a short story. In the past, I've done 50,000 consecutive words (or many, many more), and I've done them in a novel that I wrote start-to-finish during the month of November. Obviously that's more impressive, but with everything else I had going on, I'm glad to have produced anything at all this year.

Anything at all. Hah! I wrote the end of two different novels, one of them a long-languishing partial that needed closure. I've still got a lot of rewriting work to do, but I now have the foundation on which to do it.

In the end, that's what NaNoWriMo is about -- struggling to accomplish more than you should be able to given all the other demands in your life, and getting a rough draft down on paper, so you have something to work with in the rewrites. I did both of those things, and in a big way.

To keep myself honest (and to make things easier), I wrote all those eclectic scenes in a single Google Doc, copying and pasting them out to their appropriate parents periodically. That workspace, though, was a document that ended up with the title Ghost Kings: Sleeping Targets: Golden Restraint Age Shelter (and a short story). Here's how that came about:

• I started off early doing my prewriting in October so I could work on a major rewrite of Royal Holiday in November, then scrapped that plan at some late hour.
• I did another set of prewriting, this time on a major rewrite (and completion) of a Sleeping Kings sort-of-prequel called Golden Age. As part of the prewriting, I wrote a new first chapter (which doesn't count toward my November word count).
• I showed up at our kickoff meeting all prepared to finally get Golden Age done, found myself blocked, and instead I wrote the next scene in my newest Ghost Targets novel, Restraint.
• From there, I just went ahead and finished Restraint (book 3 in that series).
• Then I started on its sequel, Ghost Targets: Shelter.
• Then I started a new, and totally unplanned collaborative writing project with Courtney on Google Wave by writing the opening scene of a novel about wizards in Oklahoma City. It starts with a magical battle in a 7-11. Awesome.
• Then I wrote a totally unplanned short story set in the fantasy universe D-- and I had been talking about years ago. It turned out surprisingly good (in my opinion, anyway).
• Then I found myself totally blocked, unable to proceed past the middle of chapter 1 of Shelter, and instead started work on an unfinished scene in Golden Age.
• Then I realized I'd written three consecutive chapters of Golden Age, without really realizing it, and I was about 6,000 words from the end of the book.
• Then I finished the book. And NaNoWriMo. All with about an hour to spare.

I dunno. If you want to call that cheating, you're welcome to. I could say that I finished National Strange Hash of Various Fictional Prose Writing Month, but I don't have the time or energy for that sort of acronym. "Nooshvoofpwym," I would pronounce it. "During nooshvoofpwyn," I would say, "I wrote 50,000 words in gookstuhgraws (and a short story)."

Whatever.

In December, I'm going to do nothing. Hah! No, not really. In December I'm going to put the finishing touches on my new Tech Writing textbook, I'm going to lay the groundwork to launch a new commercial blog in January, and unless I'm prepared to face some real wrath from some surprisingly real fans, I'm going to do at least a quick touch-up on Restraint and share it out to some trusted reviewers.

I started 2009 with a pretty ambitious plan for my writing, and ended it in an entirely different place, but almost as impressive of one. I didn't rewrite Royal Holiday and I didn't start an entirely new sci-fi property premised on what turns out to be a total physical impossibility (in a bad way), but I did become a university professor and write a textbook. That's pretty cool. I got my old creative writing text dusted off, too, and it's ready to go.

So that's my plan for 2010. Not as much ambition for the new, but lots of rewrites. I do want to finish Ghost Targets: Shelter before the end of September, so I can devote October to prewriting and November to Ghost Targets: Faith (my first season finale). Two novels in a year is actually pretty tame for me.

Then I want to get Expectation cleaned up (I never did redo the ending), and I want to get Restraint totally rewritten, and expanded by at least 9,000 words. Same for SK: Golden Age, and once that's done I'll need to write a new first chapter for SK: The Wolf, and my first NaNoWriMo project, SK: The Shepherd, still needs its first real rewrite, too.

That's my order of priority. I've got more. King Jason's War still needs the first section reworked, and a polish everywhere else, and I've been talking for years about splitting Taming Fire in two, and it could use some touch-up while I'm at it. More and more I find myself thinking back on The Poet Alexander, too, wondering if there's some rough gem somewhere in the rambling, inarticulate beast that would be worth paring out. Who knows? I'd have to work miracles to ever get far enough down my list to find out, though.

Stay tuned. Maybe I actually will. I've spent three years now consistently accomplishing more than I ever thought I possibly could. And, in the end, that's what NaNoWriMo is all about.

Journal Entry: November 2009

I survived.

I'm tempted to make those two words my whole journal entry, but so much happened in November that I don't want to forget. And so much happened in November that I'm going to forget it.

Even this post won't get it all, but I want to grab the highlights.

I started the month with a NaNoWriMo kickoff party at IHOP with my writing group, and that actually is documented already. I've also talked a little bit about my NaNoWriMo progress, and my class sessions. I'll do another post with a post mortem for NaNoWriMo, but here I wanted to talk about what else I did.

I finished a major manuscript for work on the 5th, and that freed up some of my attention and some of my creative energy, so I finally really got started writing on the 6th. I had a birthday lunch at P. F. Chang's on the 8th, and then a holiday (Veteran's Day) on the 11th that gave me a pretty easy work week, and a good opportunity to get caught up on my word count again. Then Saturday the 14th I had a great opportunity to get behind again.

Probably the big event of November (for me), T-- threw a big birthday party for my 30th, inviting my mom and dad, and all my friends. D--, of course, B-- and E--, K-- and N--, my little sister and her family, as well as Courtney and Ed (who were a real hit). T-- had everyone bring a bottle of wine, which was quite a treat, and she grilled up ribs for us as the main dish in a pretty extensive (and delicious) spread. We chatted and played Rock Band, and had a great time. Shawn and Liz showed up after most of the other guests had left, but stuck around to watch UHF with the Cantrells and me. That was fun. The whole night was incredible.

In WoW news, I got my Hunter to 80 (which marks the first time I've had a Hunter at the level cap). I also started a pair of Horde characters on Shawn's server, so I can chat with him from time to time. He's popped in on Dark Iron a time or two, too, and that's been fun.

I had a conversation with T--, and a conversation with my writing group, and a conversation with my dad over the phone on a drive home from work, and the end result of all that is that I'm finally going to try to get some treatment for my social anxiety. That's not really something I want to talk about in detail in this post, but it happened in November. So there you go.

Then last week was Thanksgiving week (which is always drama, and NaNoWriMo brings its own demons). T-- headed up to Wichita early, on Tuesday afternoon, and I had dinner with D-- at a new Mexican place downtown (Iguana Grill, and it's awesome), then went by Bruce's to borrow his ladder and ended up spending an hour and a half chatting with him, then went home and got started on Christmas preparations instead of going to bed.

I wanted to have the tree up (and ready for decoration) by the time T-- came home from Wichita. I decided to get all the decorations down from the attic, too, and somewhere in there I decided I should hang Christmas lights outside. Wal-Mart had LED lights at a reasonable price, so I picked up 8 strings and spent Wednesday afternoon crawling around on the roof of the house, getting everything set up. It proved to be more work than I anticipated, but the end result is stunning. (I'm sure T-- will have a photo up on her blog eventually.)

I'd barely gotten off the roof when D-- showed up to take me down to Chicasha to pick up his grandma, and then we all headed to Wichita. With that extra trip, a two-and-a-half-hour drive became something perilously close to five, but I spent most of it sleeping in the back seat, so who's complaining.

Then Thanksgiving was four straight days of Charboneaus. That's an amazing family, and they really know how to have a good time when they get together. T-- brought my XBox and Rock Band, and that was incredibly popular. The food was incredible. The Cowboys won convincingly, and then a disappointing Sooners team showed up on Saturday and totally shut out OSU in the Bedlam game, so that was pretty satisfying.

We got home Sunday afternoon, and as we turned the corner onto our street, AB called from the back seat, "Ooh, the house is ready for Christmas!" T--, of course, was thrilled. After watching her parents get all their Christmas decorations done Friday morning, she'd been left wondering when we could even get around to it, and here it was all ready for her.

AB couldn't wait to get started, and she and her mom got the tree all decorated before bedtime.

Then yesterday was the 30th, the end of my wonderful, grueling November, and I capped it with a write-in at Courtney's. We both made our official submissions to the NaNoWriMo website around 11:00, validated our winning word counts, and then stayed up far too late talking. All too often, in the midst of a conversation about this or that, one or the other of us would trail off, staring away into space, and then just say quietly, "I can't believe it's over."

It's over. And I survived.

Other than that, it's just things and stuff.

The OC (Weeks 12 and 13)

This post is part of an ongoing series.

Week 12
Back in August -- back when I had so much delicious free time on my hands that reactivating my WoW account seemed like a good idea -- I was just a bright-eyed kid all full of ideas. Those were the good old days, before bitter experience taught me the cynicism of reality. (In case you can't tell, I've been noveling.)

Anyway, back then I made up a course schedule to put in the syllabus, which included lecture topics for every week, and assignments for the students along the way. I mentioned the fallacy of that schedule in the week 11 post about technical writers as programmers, where I pretended a topic of actual interest to them was a topic I knew something about.

Week 12 featured a reversal of that, when I pretended a topic I knew something about was a topic of actual interest to them. The title for the lecture was "Writing to a Deadline and the Publication Process." I reversed the order for my presentation.

The Publication Process
By "the publication process" I meant the actual physical process that converts a Word file into a paper book. As a technical writer, that's a process that takes up a lot of my time. After I've finished writing a perfectly-crafted, error-free description of my topic, I then have to spend hours and days and weeks reshaping the beast to make it play nice with paper pages.

This reshaping takes two major forms: page design, and print options. Page design is stuff I can do in Word, like adding page breaks (and "Notes" pages, and "This page intentionally left blank." pages) to make sure new sections start on right-hand (front) pages, and adjusting space between paragraphs and illustration sizes to make nice full pages, and making sure every document's length (in pages) is a multiple of four.

I went to some effort to explain why that last bit matters. It has to do with printing on both sides of a double-wide sheet, and then folding it in half (producing a four-page fold called a "signature," which was a word I totally blanked on during the class). The reasons for this are complicated and partly apocryphal, but mostly they're just uninteresting. I won't bore you with the details.

Then there's print options, such as which print method you want to use. Offset printing (using big acid-etched copper plates and rolling rubber mats) is still far prettier than digital printing (using, y'know, lasers), but it's prohibitively expensive for small press runs (anything less than a hundred thousand copies), and it requires a lot of set-up time. As a technical writer, that's a really difficult balance to hit sometimes. As...anyone else, it doesn't matter. Offset printing is just outside the price range of the housewife putting together a cookbook, and printing contracts at most companies are handled by accounting or documentation departments, not the programmers and engineers who are taking my class.

Still, it's the technical process by which we make real things out of the documents they're building in Word, and I felt like I should go over it.

I also discussed the various binding methods -- from three-ring binders and spiral-bindings to the hardback ("case" binding) and paperback ("perfect" binding) you'll find on the shelves at B&N. I discussed the benefits and drawbacks of each, showed some samples, and then moved on.

Writing to a Deadline
Writing to a deadline is the biggest challenge of the technical writer (whether it's a job title or just a job requirement). The nature of the deadline varies from shop to shop, and I demonstrated that by talking about my personal experience again. At Lowrance, we typically received an assignment with three days to build a hundred-plus-page book. Sometimes we had to turn it overnight. At the FAA...the Maintenance Handbook project I just finished was one of my top priorities for most of the last year. Once it was officially given to me, the deadline was a vague "soon" for months before it became, all of a sudden, "Friday."

There's a commonality in both cases, though. In all technical writing, really, the information you're supposed to be putting into a document comes to you at a trickle -- an agonizingly slow trickle at times. At Lowrance, we knew what products were in the works for months, but it would be three days before packaging before we had a working model to test and grab screenshots on.

Your job as a technical writer is to get as much information on paper as you can, as early as you can, without wasting too much time. That last bit can be the tricky bit, because we could easily have built a bunch of documents at Lowrance using early emulators, and then had to scrap 90% of our work because of a single software change (and we often did).

The other difficulty you'll encounter when you're writing to a deadline, I told them, is that you'll get called into meetings, or have to attend training, or deal with any manner of pompous windbags who monopolize your time to tell you about something incredibly important to them, but that has no relevance to your project (or your life) whatsoever.

The best thing to do in those cases, I've found, is to have your laptop open on the table in front of you and just spend the whole lecture working on your project. (That got a laugh.)

Work Time
That whole lecture took forty minutes or so (as intended), and I left them the rest of the time to work on their projects and ask questions. They did, and some even hung around after the end of the period, so it was 2:30 before I headed home.

I sent out an email later that week to let them know the following Tuesday would be exclusively work time. I promised to be available (in class) if they had any questions or needed advice, but that I wouldn't have a lecture prepared, and I wouldn't be taking attendance. I also sent an email to several of the other professors inviting them to stop by and keep me company, because I didn't expect any of my students to actually show up.

Week 13
Some of them did. Three, actually, which doesn't sound very impressive, but it amounts to 20% of my class, so it's not too shabby. I barely broke 50% on Week 12, and I did take attendance that week. (That was my only low week, though, and they did know it was going to be partly a work period.)

Anyway, I had some great questions from the students who showed up, and I'm pretty confident they're going to have great projects to turn in. I also got to chat with one of my students about Google Wave for half an hour, which was both fun and educational.

Oh, and I got all my dailies done. So it was a productive period all around.

All I've got left now is presentations, evaluations, and the final exam. Oh, and the grading. I tremble at the thought of all the grading to be done. Still, the semester is mostly survived, and I think I've done some real good. Yay me.

More next week.

National Novel Writing Month 2009 Progress Report

I'm fifteen days into NaNoWriMo, and doing terribly well.

Well, okay, sixteen days. I was going for the parallelism, though, so shut up!

I made a long post to my writing group's discussion board last week talking about goals -- specific, personal goals, and the impetus to reach them. The gist of it was that I had one: I wanted to finish Ghost Targets: Restraint (which I began back in June) by the 16th, when Julie and Carlos were coming by for a visit.

I did that. I actually finished the story last Friday afternoon, which put me at 29,000 words in November, and 55,000 words in the book. For those of you who are good at math (and know the rules of NaNoWriMo), you'll be wondering what I plan to do with my other 21,000 words in the next two weeks.

As of now, I'm undecided. In the last three days, I've written a couple pages of introduction for a totally new story idea (that's intended to be a collaborative project with Courtney), a couple pages of introduction for the next Ghost Targets book (which is currently laboring under the working title Shelter), and today, over lunch, four more pages that drive me a good distance into chapter one.

I'd spent the early part of the month thinking I was going to finish up my Sleeping Kings opener, Golden Age, and I'd still really like to do that. It's complicated, though. I was a different kind of writer when I wrote the SK books, and I don't think it would be worth the effort to rewrite the whole series to bring it more in line with my current writing style, but I don't know how well I can fake the old style to get a seamless introduction.

And, at the end of the day, I've got a lot more energy behind the Ghost Targets series now. I could end the month with a third of the fourth book done and soar past 50,000 for the month, and all of that would be pretty effortless. Or I could labor over every page, force out a passable introduction to Sleeping Kings, and barely hit my target even with all the extra effort. It would be awfully nice to have that done, but I don't know that I have the discipline or the motivation to make it happen.

Either way, I'm limping into my pre-class downtime today, so it'll be sometime Thursday before we know more. Well, before I know more. Chances are good this space won't be updated until the end of the month, though, and by then it'll be done, one way or another.

If you've got an opinion, feel free to cast your vote. Maybe you'll surprise me. Maybe you'll even motivate me.

Other than that, it's just things and stuff.

The OC (Week 11)

This post is part of an ongoing series.

Scary Professor Guy
I brought back Scary Professor Guy to open the class this week when, two or three minutes into our class period, one of my Juniors was still trying to get one of my Seniors to help her with her programming homework.

I barked, "Okay, okay, go sit down. We're not here to talk about programming, we're here to talk about technical writing." She blushed a little and went back to her seat, I had all eyes on me, and said, "Right. Today's class topic is 'Programming as a Technical Writer.'" That got a laugh.

Talking Points
Before we got to the lecture, though, I had them go around the room and everyone described his or her semester project. Briefly. I had a couple goals in mind with this, but the main one was just to force them to think about their semester projects. They did that three weeks ago when they wrote up their proposal, and probably not a moment since then. So I sent out an email last weekend letting them know they'd be responsible for talking about their projects during class on Tuesday.

Their assignment today (due next Tuesday) is a progress report, but I was hoping the threat of public speaking would drive them to get started a little sooner, so they'd actually have some progress to report.

I imagined it could take as much as half an hour to go around the room (leaving me forty-five minutes for my lecture) but I went ahead and prepared an hour's worth of material just in case. In reality, it took fifty minutes to go around the room, so I not only cut the disposable fifteen minutes, I had to do some major compression on my core lesson.

The presentations were useful, though. I'm sure the students were bored of it about halfway through, but most of them were encountering (or will encounter) similar problems and frustrations. Most of those problems are inherent aspects of technical writing, so it's not like I could give them advice to get around them, but at least they'll know they're not alone.

Programming as a Technical Writer
I'd sort of looked forward to this lecture ever since I found out just how many programmers I had in my class -- my opportunity to show them how useful programming can be in tech writing and (just in passing) how incredibly cool I am, as I've done all these things.

The better I got to know them, though, the more I realized that the stuff I had to tell them didn't merit a class (or two -- I'd originally scheduled another lecture on "HTML, XML, and Structured Documentation," in addition to this one). I've got three English majors who could all really benefit from a course in each of those topics, but I wasn't going to be able to teach them Python in seventy-five minutes, and I couldn't justify making all my programmers sit quietly while I tried.

So, instead, I adjust my focus. Instead of trying to teach when and how to use which tools, I converted my case studies into object lessons. That may seem like a pretty narrow distinction, but it's a matter of scale. I only had twenty minutes, anyway, so I briefly described several of my big projects (in terms of efficiency improvement), and then I leaned heavy on the take-away lesson.

The take-away lesson is this: automating tasks can be difficult to set up, but it makes those tasks easier every time you have to perform them afterward. Your job is to determine (and it's a matter of constant re-evaluation) if the set-up expense is worth the efficiency reward.

If you're a programmer, that expense is often just the amount of time it takes to make and refine your program. I have half a dozen examples ready to hand where I was able to save hours and hours off of every document we produced with just a couple hours of research and coding. If you're not a technical person, though, that expense can require weeks or months learning a new skillset, or days refreshing your understanding of one you haven't used in a while. Still, there are some projects large enough that a semester of training is worthwhile to write a script to process the thousands of pages of data you'll be dealing with.

I didn't try to teach them how to do anything specific. I would have, if the projector had worked like it's supposed to. I would have probably kept them late so I could show them how to put together a quick VBA macro in Word, but now I'll just save that for a Thursday tutorial later in the month. As it was, I just told them about a couple times in my experience where quick Python scripts or clumsy VBA macros made my life much, much easier.

Progress Report
Their assignment today, as I mentioned, is to write a progress report on their Semester Projects. I had them create Google Docs account last week, so I decided to make this week's assignment be a new Google Doc. In their tutorial I showed them how to set up and format a Google Doc from scratch, and then how to load and modify a Google Docs template to achieve a similar (but prettier) effect. Now they're supposed to fill in one of those two documents with the information required by their assignment, and then share it out to me.

I'm anxious to see how that goes. I'll let you know.

More next week.

Vanity Plate

I talked about it a lot back when it happened, but I don't think I ever posted any of the photos Julie took when she came up to do the maternity shoot for Trish.

I asked her to get a couple of me for profile pics, and this is the one I'm using now.


Thanks again to Julie for her great work. She's said she wants to take another run at it, and that sounds like a blast. Until then, though, I'm perfectly happy with the work she did.

The OC (Week 10)

This post is part of an ongoing series.

Pulling My Punchlines
Last week's class was disappointing. I think, of all the classes I've prepared this semester, the only one I was more excited about (beforehand) was the one with the band flyers. That time I was excited about the in-class activity, though. This time I was excited about the lecture.

Because I had good material. Dad told me before Week 2 that I had to focus on how I could make their lives better, and this class was all about that. I had so much good information to impart, I just knew it would be a great class.

And it was not, by any means, a bad class. The information was good, the students paid attention, I filled an hour but didn't keep them late. It was a good class, but it lacked punch. None of my excitement really got through, because (for the first time) I felt comfortable enough before class that I didn't invest much preparation in the presentation. Turns out, I'm still not a natural. I didn't have any punchlines, so I'd spend ten minutes telling them how cool this feature was, or how that program worked, but I failed to drive home how it would impact them. I guess a good activity could have served that purpose, but I had so much I wanted to cover that I didn't really have time for one.

Or...well, I did. It just wasn't in-class. I'll talk about that more later.

Markup
The class covered "Collaborative Writing and Editing Tools," and the most basic of those is markup. Markup, as I told them, is the process of providing feedback on a documentation product using a consistent, somewhat standard set of marks and symbols. You're probably familiar with the paragraph mark, which can be penned into the middle of a long paragraph to recommend a good spot to break it up. You might be familiar with the strikethrough line ending in a little swirl to indicate text that should be removed. If you don't do a lot of markup, you're more likely to just cross out text you think should go.

There are a bunch of standard marks, but there's also a bunch of standards, so it's hard to find one reliable set. Because of that, I stressed "consistent" more heavily than "standard," and showed them (very quickly) how to look up a set of editing marks online.

Before I got to that, I had a little slideshow ready, and I flashed hand-drawn samples of my personal markup on the screen, and asked them to identify the meaning. They've been getting markup from me all semester, so they had no trouble with that process.

The problem with markup is that it's slow. A document's author has to create a baseline document, get it to an editor, wait for the editor to suggest changes, and then incorporate those changes into his baseline. If the author tries to continue working while that's going on, he risks invalidating much of the feedback he'll get from the editor. If he wants several different people to review his document (without a lot of wasted effort) he has to go through the whole process separately (in order) with each editor.

Track Changes
Word makes things a little easier by allowing direct modification within documents. Instead of printing out a copy for my boss to mark up, I can email her a copy of a document I'm working on and she can make any recommended changes directly. To preserve author control, she can activate a tool called "Track Changes," which allows Word to keep track of every modification she makes to the document.

When I get that document back from her, I can change some view settings to see what the original looked like (my document), what the final looks like (her suggested version), or "Final with Markup." Turning on that last option shows me a visual record of every change she made, and I can right-click any one of those and choose "Accept Change" or "Reject Change." Once I do that, the markup goes away, and I'm left with the text I want, as the document's author.

That only eliminates one step in the markup process, but it speeds things up a lot, and it allows the editor to make much more detailed suggestions (in the form of actual changes). Word also offers a Comment which allows an editor to attach a note to a document he's reviewing without actually modifying the text any. Something like "Should we say more here?" maybe, or "Check this figure number."

The nice thing about all of this is that I can keep all of the markup available when I need it, but just change my viewing option to "Final" when I need to see (or print) a clean document.

Collaborative Writing
Still (you all knew this was coming), markup is just a clumsy process given the tools we have available now. After talking through the ways we can do markup, and get the most out of it, I opened up my Google Docs folder on the screen and started really preaching.

With tools like Google Docs, it's easy for multiple authors to work on a single document. By way of example, I opened some of the (many) documents in my folder. I showed them my Class Topics document, which I keep on Google Docs so I can update it from anywhere, whenever I have a moment and an idea. I showed them a spreadsheet I use to track some stuff I'm working on in WoW, just as a sort of virtual Post-It Note (to stress the simplicity of creating and maintaining documents). I showed them our NaNoWriMo spreadsheet, as an example of one that has a lot of editors viewing and modifying all the time.

When that one went up, I launched into my little speech. "This makes it easy for any of us to open it up at any time and update our word count--"

And someone said, "Yeah, and you can see just how bad you're doing." At that point I had about 1,100 words, which put me dead last among the people on that list, and around 1/5 of my target, so I didn't disagree.

Someone else said, "Wow, Courtney's really smoking!" She was a hair shy of 6,000 words.

So I came out from behind my podium, shaking a finger at them, and said, "Oh, yeah, sure. But she's a full time novelist. That's what she does. And me? I've got a day job. I've got two kids. Oh, and I've got to teach you guys." I put some venom in that, and they all laughed.

Real-time Feedback
Then I opened a couple more documents, copies of Gods Tomorrow that I'd shared with Carlos and Courtney, and showed them how they'd provided feedback right in the document -- Courtney with color-coded comments between paragraphs, and Carlos with footnotes, that behave just like the Comments in Word.

That's really my favorite use of Google Docs, because it lets me watch a reader reading my books. That has got to be the greatest thrill for a writer.

Change History
Of course, giving them the ability to change my documents creates a little bit of a security concern. Both of those documents were copies of my original, but to get the most out of collaborative writing, you're eventually going to have to relinquish some control, and that creates the possibility for a reckless editor to really mess up a document.

Google Docs (and, really, any modern collaborative writing software) handles that by tracking changes. I can open any of my Google Docs and view a list of every change that has ever been made to it, all the way back to the original blank page. Not only that, but I can see who made each change, I can compare versions, I can revert to an old copy. It's incredibly powerful.

So I talked through that process, and (really like everything I'd shown them in Google Docs) it was mostly showing how Google had implemented useful collaboration tools available elsewhere, because I'd started the class talking about version control software, and how to make the most of it. The real key is to keep on top of the changes being made to a document you're responsible for -- know who's working on it, what they're doing to it, and be sure to catch any serious problems early. As long as you're paying attention, it's easy enough to protect the quality of your document in a system like that.

The Punchline
To close the class, I opened a final document on the screen -- the instruction sheet from an AirSoft gun (which is to say, really terribly translated English with some cheap illustrations). You can see the original here, if you're curious. For the Google Doc, I just copied all the text over verbatim, and put it in a plain text document.

Then I told them that their assignment for the week was to fix that document. On Thursday, when they got their tutorial, I walked them through the process of setting up a Google Docs account, and then required them to send me a copy of the email they'd used. Once I had that, I invited each of them to collaborate on that document. I also set up a spreadsheet to use for presentation sign-up, instead of passing around a sheet of paper at the next class.

That, I think, will do more to sell them on the usefulness of this information than anything I did in class on Tuesday. They'll be able to see collaborative editing in action, they'll see their classmates modifying a document they have open in real-time, and at the end of the day they'll have a Google Docs account set up. It's another weapon in their arsenal. They're better able to handle real-world writing challenges this week than they were last week, and that's really all I was ever going for.

More next week.

National Novel Writing Month 2009 Kick-Off

I'm five days into NaNoWriMo, and not doing terribly well. I'm right at 1/4 of my target word count. My writing group is on fire, though, and I'm taking a little bit of (probably undeserved) paternal pride in that.

We started things off in a big way last Saturday night (Halloween), when a bunch of us met at a local IHOP for a big kick-off party. I think I've seen differing counts, but I'm pretty sure there were seven of us writing (and an eighth writer who left before we actually started writing), and two visitors who came by just to spectate.

We met at 11:00 PM, so that we could socialize a bit before getting down to business. I spent most of that time talking with Shawn about World of Warcraft. That was, without question, an accurate indicator of what I should expect out of the night, and out of my November. Don't mistake that for me placing blame anywhere but on me, though.

Anyway, it was fun, and we all had a good time socializing. There was a real air of anticipation, too, as we got closer and closer to midnight. Somewhere in the midst of that, a young couple headed toward our tables -- one of the seven writers, and one of the two spectators. The latter of those was also one of my students in my Tech Writing class. He's a young man with considerable personality -- more than he can reasonably keep to himself.

It was my intention to get 2,500 words written. I was willing to leave as early as 1:00 if I managed to hit my word count by then, but I was expecting it to take until about 2:00. That's okay -- I've closed down bars in the not-too-distant past, so I figured I could handle 2:00. We had the advantage of Sunday morning being the end of Daylight Savings Time, too, so I'd get the extra hour of sleep.

Most of our writers had laptops -- no, check that, all of them did. Except me. I had a scribblebook, because that's how I roll. We'd picked IHOP for its late hours, but one of the major selling points had been the free WIFI. Unfortunately, when midnight rolled around and everyone opened up the laptops, we found ourselves unable to locate that free WIFI. I don't think anybody ever did. There wasn't easy access to electrical outlets, either, but I think everyone's batteries survived longer than their writing impetus, anyway.

Anyway. While they were wrestling with their network management utilities, I was scribbling in a cramped cursive at laughing at them all. Muah hahaha! I filled two and half pages (a hair over 500 words), and ran out of words. I spent the next thirty minutes or so forcing words one at a time to fill another page and a half, and then I gave up. Oh, what a shining example I am for my writing group!

About five minutes before I gave up, though, my oh-so-personable student Sean (no, not Shawn, that was someone else) gave up on his project to get ad hoc StarCraft going, and came to our tables to talk some more. I was able to pretend to humor him, and act all friendly as an excuse for closing my scribblebook, unclicking my Pilot G-2, and spending the rest of the night just emptying glass after glass of Coke.

That was one-ish, so I had an hour left before I was going to let myself leave. Fifteen to two, a hostess came by our table to warn us that the bars were about to let out, and the clientele would become considerably more boorish. Courtney proudly proclaimed that we were writers, and we delighted in observing vibrant characters in action.

We got more than we bargained for there, though. Just past two, a fistfight erupted in the parking lot which quickly ended up as four guys beating the hell out of a fifth guy down on the ground. Our table gave us an easy view of it, but everyone in the restaurant was quickly on their feet, watching the fight through the wall of windows. It was impossible to look away.

Courtney called the cops. A manager and some employees risked their lives to try to intervene (and quite possibly saved the fifth dude's life in the process). Fifteen minutes passed before the ambulance and firetruck showed up, forty-five before the cops. None of us really felt like setting foot outside until that happened.

So I stumbled in the door well after three in the morning, too buzzed on secondhand adrenaline and caffeine to fall asleep, and I spent half an hour lying in bed thinking, "Oh, the hangover tomorrow is going to suck." That was habit, because the only time I come home after two in the morning is when I've been out drinking (and, when I spend that long out drinking, the hangover tomorrow always sucks). I kept having to remind myself I hadn't actually had anything to drink.

And then tomorrow came, and the hangover was awful. I'm way too old for three in the morning.

I cleared eleven hundred words on day one, and then had to go to work on day two. I taught a class on day three. I've been swamped with a Maintenance Handbook on a Nov. 14th deadline, and too exhausted at the end of the day to do anything but log in and zone out. I ended yesterday at 2,485 words. Got another five hundred done today, though, and the weekend is looking shiny and full of promise.

Every novel I've ever written has had at least one 8,000-word day in it. Maybe this year's will come early.

Anyway, that's most of what's been on my mind. I'm off to a slow start, but I'm still a long way from out of the game.

Other than that, it's just things and stuff.

The Golden Age (a poem)

"She's got a rule. She never dates her friends."
"I know," he said. "I really hate that rule...."

She keeps it, though, and she is all alone.
Alone at home, at work when it gets bad.
There's trouble in the air, has been for years,
Then something breaks one quiet afternoon
At a presidential speech.
A kid is killed, and soon it's on the news
And riots follow, cities start to burn.
There's soldiers in the streets, and all too soon
There's bombs.
And she is all alone.

She goes back to a place she once called home,
To friends who all among them made her world
And quietly they watch this world burn down.
All huddled up, squeezed tight on that sad couch
In his tiny apartment, second floor,
And wonder what the future holds in store.

For days it's dazed and frightened disbelief.
At night their only light is CNN.
Then Dave hears that his boss has got a plan
The governor needs him to craft a speech
A bold address to set the city right
And bring back hope and reason, end the fight.
They go -- these four, these friends, these college buds.
They're kids, but they've been called to save the world
And only one has doubts -- in that, she's all alone.

More bombs in store, more death than they could guess
But through it all, he holds them to the course.
He's brave for her -- he saves the day for her --
But in the end they all are heroes true.
Here in the quiet Heartland, they wake up.
They face a dragon, slay a villain dark,
And live storybook lives in too-real life.

But then it's done. It's done, and they're all safe,
But her mother back home is so afraid.
Her dad is, too, and asks her to come back.
To leave her friends, and come back to her home.
And hero though he is, her friend, she's got a rule.
So she goes home, to grander stories yet....

And she is all alone.

Journal Entry: October 30, 2009

I'm not going to pretend any of you are surprised at the lack of updates. I'm also not going to pretend there will be any rectification of that issue in the next thirty-one days. NaNoWriMo is here, and it gets my words. What I have to spare will end up in emails and FaceBook Discussion Board posts encouraging my other writers to stick with it.

That's what I've been busy with in the recent bloggish doldrums. Two years ago when I decided to bully Dad and Heather into writing their books, I put together a prewriting curriculum for them, and I've used some of those exercises with a couple other people since, but I never really nailed them down.

I've spent much of the last two weeks getting them sorted out, cleaned up, and properly annotated (the exercises are now two-parters: lessons on topics in story design, paired with specific assignments).

I also went through all the exercises and did them for my own NaNoWriMo project, to set a good example, but I ended up having to switch projects right in the middle of all that, so it was a real mess. As of yesterday I'm all done, though, and ready to get to work.

Of course, I've been playing a lot of WoW, and we've had several opportunities to get a whole group together, whether it was D-- and me and the brothers-in-law, or Mom and Dad and a nephew, we've had a lot of fun.

The kids are doing well, and T-- (as always) is a phenomenal wife and mother. It's amazing how much she gets accomplished, on so little sleep....

Other than that, it's just things and stuff.

The OC (Week 9)

This post is part of an ongoing series.

Life is Funny
I started class today with story time. See, one of my students mentioned a couple weeks ago that he didn't need to do the Employment Packet assignments because he already had a job. The Employment Packet assignments require them to research job openings, and develop a resume (and practice their business letter writing skills a couple more times). While I'm at it I'm teaching them some advanced styling techniques in Word, but that's just an added bonus.

Anyway, today I started out by asking how many of them already had professional-level jobs or internships, and nearly all the hands went up. I wasn't surprised by that -- I've been getting information about their career status from them since the first assignment. Next I asked them how many really believed that would be the last job they ever needed, and only three or four left their hands up.

And, y'know, I've read their company profiles, and it's quite possible. Still, I said, life is funny.

See, when I took that class in my senior year, I had no idea I would be a technical writer. In fact, just a few weeks before I was a technical writer I had no idea I would be a technical writer. I'd spent college killing time in the emptiest of the computer labs as a lab technician, and then supplementing my income by playing Asheron's Call.

I told them that story, which was fun. I told them how I'd played AC and harvested singularity keys and sold them on eBay. Then, one day, Toby said he could probably write a program to handle that process for me, and we made the Damion bot. By the time it was done, I spent a few months making a couple hundred bucks a week off that.

Then I graduated, and a couple hundred bucks a week wasn't going to cut it, so I had to get a real job. I got lucky there, because our department chair put me in touch with Mark Lee at Lowrance, who was looking for a new technical writer. He needed a resume, though.

What was I going to put on my resume? I had the writing degree, but all my writing samples were poetry and chapters from a dragon-rider novel. I put down the lab tech job, and my only other work experience before that was as an assistant at a private elementary school. I probably included that. I didn't list "Professional video game player" as an occupation, but I'm sure I put video games under interests....

Then I went for the interview, and Mark listed all those things. Eyebrows raised in a question, "Says here you're interested in...video games?" And I nodded, feeling stupid, and he said, "Y'know, the problem with posting a technical writing job opening is that you get all these applicants who know how to write, but don't know anything about operating the devices. You sound like the kind of guy who could play with the gadgets we make, figure them out, and then explain them in a manual. That's exactly what we need."

Life is funny.

A little while later, Toby applied for a job there, too, and it happened to come just as our company was adding a new product to our development -- turn-by-turn GPS devices. In Toby's interview, he told them the story of designing the software that guided my character through dungeons to gather singularity keys for me while I slept, and that pretty much got him the job. Half a year later, he was in charge of developing the turn-by-turn software.

Life is funny.

Auto-generated Text
That whole bit was more mentoring than Tech Writing teaching, but it made a great introduction to my class lecture, which was on auto-generated text in Microsoft Word. I told them that when I got to Lowrance, Mark was still building Tables of Contents for the manuals by hand. It was dozens of hours of work tacked on to the end of every single project, and it was a huge source of errors (because it's so easy to leave in a mistake and never notice).

That same spirit of poking around and figuring stuff out that Mark had thought would serve me well with the product documentation came into play with our documentation process, too. I got irritated trying to correct a broken ToC one time, and decided to see what sort of tools existed.

Turns out, Word has a pretty impressive ToC generator built right in. The trick is that you've got to use consistent, well-designed heading styles. That's some of the "advanced styling techniques" I talked about earlier. I've spent the last month telling them how to develop these styles, and requiring them to use section headings in all of their homework assignments just to get them ready for this.

All of those assignments have been accompanied with tutorials I developed -- six, so far -- and each of those tutorials has been structured using a single set of custom styles (chapter heading, section heading, paragraph heading, body text, bullets, block quote, image, and caption). By now the students know well enough how I made those styles that they were able to grasp the significance of each of them.

So I pulled up all six of their tutorials on the overhead, and copied and pasted them together into one big long document, the chapter heading style automatically separating the different tutorials into chapters. I had to make a couple little adjustments (give the heading styles appropriate Outline levels, and make a clone of the chapter heading for the ToC title), and I explained what I was doing as I did it, but about ten minutes into the presentation I was able to scroll to the top of the document, choose Insert | Quick Parts | Field | TOC, and hit OK.

A fully formatted, populated, beautiful Table of Contents appeared on the page. Someone in the back said, "That's awesome!" Somebody else said, "You cheated!"

Exactly the response I was looking for.

I showed them some more stuff along the same lines. We added automatic chapter numbers, and figure numbering in the captions, and then we built a Table of Illustrations to go with the ToC. We fixed the page numbering so the front matter had little roman numerals and the first page of chapter 1 was labeled 1 (instead of 5).

Then we went to the header and put in a field that shows the chapter title on the top of every page (so if you're in the middle of chapter 4, you know it's chapter 4). All of that took about forty minutes. Maybe a little less, and when we were done we had turned a handful of documents into a real book.

It was easy...but only because we'd done our work beforehand. Everything I did relied on the consistent use of well-designed styles. Because all of my chapters used Tutorial Chapter style, and every single section heading was Tutorial Section, and every caption was Tutorial Caption, I was able to do these things. That was really the main point of my lesson for the day. I don't expect any of them to be able to build a ToC or add a StyleRef field to a document on command. I do expect them to be able to build a document that could support those, though. And if they ever have to work with one that does, I expect them to be able to recognize what's going on, and use the built-in styles appropriately.

It was a pretty straightforward lecture day, divided evenly between story time and presentation, and when I got to the end of the presentation I let them go. I'd thought about having them build an Index as their in-class activity, but I'm pretty sure that would have taken hours. I filled fifty minutes as it was, and the lingerers and hangers-on kept me in the classroom, talking, until well past 2:15.

More next week.

The OC (Week 8)

This post is part of an ongoing series.

The Anxiety Persists
So, I've been through this often enough now that I can make a pretty good analysis of the situation. Early on it seemed like my pre-class anxiety was getting less and less as it moved from a weeklong problem to one that only took up a couple hours.

With only really one exception, though, I've realized that the total severity of the anxiety remains constant, regardless of the duration. That is to say, as my downtime has decreased, it has gotten worse and worse. I spent two hours before class today confident that I was about to die.

Then one o'clock rolled around, I cut off their chatter with a relatively quiet, "Okay," and I felt fine. Really every week since the first has gone like that. I don't have any trouble talking to them anymore, it's just waiting for class to start that gets to me.

National Novel Writing Month
Of course you knew I wouldn't pass up the opportunity to promote NaNoWriMo while teaching a writing class, but I refrained from offering extra credit. Enough of my students have expressed an interest in writing novels, though, that I felt pretty confident making the plug. I started the class out with that, and mentioned that it had "about as much to do with Tech Writing as that conversation about DeBord's grading practices."

Still, I recommended it and wrote the URL on the marker board. Incidentally, that's the first time I've used the marker board.

Information
From there I went to the lecture, and my big point for the day was that Tech Writing is about more than just writing down information. Information is more available than ever, but most people have trouble using information. The role of the Tech Writer is to convert existing information into a usable form -- and often to convert the same information into multiple forms.

On that last point, I titled the lecture "Repurposing Documentation," and I described my work environment to them, where every little change to the system requires us to document the status quo, the proposed change, and the predicted effect of the change according to a very specific standard. Well, no, seven very specific (and very different) standards. An Engineering Study requires all of that information in five to ten pages, whereas a Safety Risk Management memo requires it in one short paragraph.

And, I pointed out, until they hired me five years ago, it was the engineers and programmers on my team who were writing those seven different documents for every single project. That point probably hit home. My major focus for the last several assignments has been on finding best practices to minimize the effort of properly formatting documents, which really comes in helpful when trying to repurpose information from one project to the next.

Doing It with Style
I followed that up with a brief demonstration. I pulled up my tutorial for Thursday ("How to Write a Resume") with no real formatting to it. Everything was reduced to Word's Normal style. I asked them to identify it, and they said, "It's instructions on how to write a resume." I waited for a more specific answer, and someone said, "It's poorly-formatted instructions on how to write a resume." I didn't really get a better answer than that.

So after a moment I said, "This is actually your tutorial for Thursday--" and I got a wave of surprised realization from them. That...wasn't really how I expected that to go. I use exactly the same wording in the introductory paragraph of every tutorial, so even without the formatting it should have been pretty clear. I guess it made the point better that way (how much of an impact formatting has), but it wasn't what I expected.

I went ahead, though, and asked them to help me format it. They've seen five tutorials now, all with consistent styling, so they were able to tell me where I needed to add spaces between paragraphs, where I needed to bold or change font sizes or change font styles...and after a little while I revealed to them that the document already had custom styles in it, so I could show how easy it was to go through the document and apply those styles.

Then, in the end, I brought up the original, unformatted document and showed it side-by-side with the one we'd just styled for comparison. It was a pretty stark difference, and that worked well.

The whole demonstration didn't, though. I'm not sure if I failed to set it up properly, or if I misjudged how familiar they would be with my tutorials, or what. I didn't feel like they engaged with it, though. Something to remember for next time, if there's a next time.

Playing Games
It didn't take terribly long, though, which was entirely my intention. As I was pointing out the differences between the two documents, I mentioned that once I had the custom styles designed and once I knew my basic template, it became just as easy to make the good tutorial as it would have been to make a crappy, unstyled one -- and look how much better the results were!

And they all agreed. So I looked around the room, and said, "Hey, remember back in week two when you guys made tutorials?" Immediately I got good-natured groans.

That was the time I divided them kindergarten-style into three groups, so today I made them return to those groups. Then I showed them where to find my Tutorial template (with embedded styles), and where to find their week two tutorials on the class's BlackBoard page. Just as they were about to get started, though, I said, "Now, before we start, we're going to make a little change. This [pointing to group two] is now group one. That's two, and that's three." Essentially, each table got assigned the document produced by the next table to the right.

Someone said, humorously pathetic, "I don't like this game!" They did a fantastic job, though. It's remarkable how much different their tutorials look now, after just a few weeks of training.

Microsoft Word 2007 for Mac OS X
Most of the time they were working on their activity, I was working one-on-one with one of my English majors who has been having a lot of trouble with the tutorials. Turns out (and I learned this about a week ago, when I got a frantic email from another student) Word 2007 on Windows doesn't really look anything like Word 2007 on Mac.

That's a problem I should have foreseen, but absolutely didn't. In the last couple weeks, their tutorials have gotten increasingly involved in the nuts-and-bolts of how to make Word apply specific style formatting, and a lot of my advice was worthless to the Mac users.

Now, their laptops can all dual boot to either OS X or Windows Vista, and the girl who initially emailed me just ended up switching to Windows to do the assignments (which, she said, ended up making the projects a lot easier, so it was worth it). Still, that's something I'm going to have to keep in mind in future tutorials, and try to find some good solution for.

We started on time, and though I released them on time, I had students in the classroom for another fifteen minutes afterward -- most of them trying to finish their activity. I probably could have cut the on-screen demonstration entirely, and they would have had more time for rewriting and formatting. I'm not sure how well that would have flowed, though.

More next week.

Journal Entry: October 20, 2009

Yesterday I made a To Do list, but I didn't actually do anything.

I got home from work to find AB napping and XP about to, so I was all too happy to watch them while T-- ran to the store.

She brought home pizza for dinner. While I played WoW, we watched some Psych and some Law and Order. And I gave AB a bath before bedtime. It was a pretty quiet night, but I was glad to have them home.

Other than that, it's just things and stuff.

Journal Entry: October 19, 2009

Last Saturday was the big Charboneau family birthdays party for everyone with a birthday in October, and T-- felt the itch to be a part of that, so she ended up packing up the kids Friday morning and heading to Wichita. That left me with a weekend of bachelor freedom. I mostly spent it practicing poor sleeping and eating habits.

I did get my lesson plan for next week done on Friday, and yesterday I took care of some stuff around the house, but apart from that it was movies, football, and lots of WoW. Amazingly relaxing, but before it was over I was really missing my family.

Friday night I was home alone, Saturday I went over to K-- and N--'s for lunch and the OU/Texas game. Lunch was some incredible cheeseburgers K-- grilled. Then while I was there K-- offered to help me track down an electrical problem I'd been having with my car, but that sort of tracked itself down as soon as I popped the hood and we saw the mountain of corrosion sitting on my battery's positive terminal. So we cleaned that off, and I haven't had any problems since.

I got home from Edmond in time for D-- to pick me up for dinner at Belle Isle, then we went back to the house and played WoW until 3:30. We also watched a bunch of unwholesome movies, which was pretty fun.

Sunday D-- and I went to lunch with my sister's family up in Edmond, then came back to the house for more WoW (although, as I said, I also got some stuff accomplished). I had to call it a night a little bit earlier, so as to make it in to work this morning, but it was still a pretty similar night to the one before.

And now my family's home safe, and I'm looking forward to seeing them tonight.

Other than that, it's just things and stuff.

Journal Entry: October 16, 2009

Well, after all my angst yesterday over the NaNoWriMo prewriting stuff, I loaded up the rough draft of my novel-writing how-to, and discovered that it was already reformatted to work on two weeks of prep time (instead of the month I thought I'd used), and that all of the assignments were written out, and all but one of the lessons that go with them.

So, it turns out, I've got about one hour's worth of work to do over the next two weeks, to take care of all that stuff I was woeing over yesterday. That doesn't count my own prewriting, of course, but I can find time for that. It was the technical writing I was worried about. Turns out, that's done.

So I spent about an hour (off an on) on Facebook yesterday posting that material and chatting with my writing group, and there's some real excitement to get started. I can't wait.

In the evening we had the last of our monthly summer picnics for Britton Road. T-- was really looking forward to it (as she always does), and with them going out of town it seemed like a really good idea to go along and spend the evening with my family, away from my computer. Of course it didn't hurt that T-- was bringing two gallons of my chili recipe to compete in the chili cookoff, so I knew I'd get a great dinner out of it.

Turned out, I didn't do so well. Before I'd finished the short walk to bring the crockpot from our car to the picnic tables, I found myself struggling to breathe. I thought, "I'm not that out of shape" before I realized what it really was. Too many people. I ended up spending an hour and a half huddled over my little bowl of chili, trying not make eye contact with anyone but K-- or N--, and mostly just focusing on my breathing. It was a real waste of what could have been a fun evening.

I got through it, though, and when we got home there was a whole Thursday night's worth of comedy to watch, and we watched it all (quite in spite of the late hour). That was fun.

Other than that, it's just things and stuff.

Journal Entry: October 15, 2009

Yesterday I got started on NaNoWriMo. Specifically, I sent out an email to everyone I know who's going to be participating with some prewriting instructions to help get them started thinking toward the writing that's going to be going on.

That's something I started doing two years ago, when I got Dad and Heather to do NaNoWriMo with me, and they were both deeply grateful for the October assignments sometime around the end of the first week of November. I put a lot of thought into crafting a curriculum to ease them into story creation, but build enough of a foundation to make the writing of a novel possible. It worked -- first time either of them had tried to write a novel, and they both finished NaNoWriMo in style.

Unfortunately, that sort of success creates pressure to follow it up, and now I'm part of a 17-person writer's group, and directly accountable to nine of them, and I somehow let myself wait until October was half done before I sent out my first email. So that's frustrating.

Anyway, I sent out my first email yesterday, and I have high hopes to get the rest of the curriculum put together into a fancy format before tomorrow, so I can send an overview along with the follow-up assignment.

Yesterday also found us at Mama Roja again (following an unforgivably long absence). D-- joined us for an early-ish dinner, but T-- had been wanting to go ever since last weekend, and it turns out she's going to be out of town this weekend, so it was last night or next week. We opted for last night and next week. So there you go.

Anyway, delicious as always. Afterward she took the kids to church, and D-- gave me a ride home, and then I spent the rest of the evening watching Christmas Vacation and playing WoW.

Other than that, it's just things and stuff.

The OC (Week 7)

This post is part of an ongoing series.

After spending six hours or so on class prep Monday, I ended up canceling class yesterday with the following BlackBoard announcement:

Your professor has granted himself an excused absence for sickness today.

Thursday is Fall Break, so Week 7 will go down in the annals of history as one of the three least interesting weeks in this sixteen-week semester. Or maybe one of the five, depending how well the students do on their presentations....

More next week.

Journal Entry: October 14, 2009

No, there is too much. Let me sum up....

It's terribly frustrating to me that, as times get more and more interesting, I write less and less about it on my blog. That's been true of every NaNoWriMo I've been through (and how many birthday parties and Thanksgivings have been lost because of it?), and it's been true of both of my babies.

Admittedly, XP isn't doing anything terribly newsworthy. He's adorable, but that doesn't make for great plain-text updates. It's a shame, though, that when I look back at now three years from now, I won't have a very detailed record of the semester I decided to work full time and teach a college course while participating in two different writer's groups, having a new baby, and maintaining a 30-hour-per-week WoW habit. Oh, and writing. A little bit.

It's not going to get any better, either, because in the midst of all that, a NaNoWriMo is looming. All I'll have to look back on are these occasional complaints, and a word count ticker. I guess that's something....

Anyway, I've spent the last two weeks with "blog journal" as the longstanding not-marked-out item on my rolling Post-It Note To Do list, and I decided to shed the guilt and stress of that unwritten post getting longer and longer, and just write a quick post about yesterday.

I made that decision three days ago. And here we are.

There's been lots worth mentioning in the recent past, but the most exciting among them is probably B--'s new job and the party that went with it. That's more than a week ago, though, so it's lost to history. Last Friday night AB spent the evening with Diana, so T-- and I could have a date night. We went to Texas Roadhouse and then watched some TV. It was awesome.

On Saturday D-- and I went over to B-- and E--'s, because he had missed the previous weekend's party with some vile disease. Conversation and martinis, and about seven minutes of The Empire Strikes Back with RiffTrax.

Sunday the Cowboys barely beat the miserable Chiefs, and that gave us our first winning weekend of the season -- or at least the first one where I got to watch both games. It was exhilarating.

Monday was Columbus Day, which is actually a holiday for people like me, so I went to the Science Museum with T-- and the kids, then spent the afternoon preparing materials for my class.

Yesterday I woke up sick, but I went to work anyway. I did end up canceling my class, though, which gives the students a full week off because Thursday is Fall Break. Wasn't the flu, though -- I was better by bedtime. And today I'm back at work.

Other than that, it's just things and stuff.

The OC (Weeks 5 and 6)

This post is part of an ongoing series.

Week 5
Week 5 doesn't get its own post, because it would be terribly uninteresting. I gave them the day off last Tuesday so that they could work on their semester projects. I did still require them to turn in their proposals before the class's regular start time (by email), and I did still give them document assignments on both Thursdays. The first was some practical instruction on building a rudimentary, styled layout, and then filling in the paragraphs with your actual content. The second took that concept a step farther and built an actual Word template with custom styles.

Anyway, since we didn't meet in class it apparently lifted the Curse of Mr. Pogue. I didn't hear news of any life-altering drama that afflicted my students during week 5.

Life-Altering Drama
Week 6 was another matter entirely. We got the Swine Flu! Or technically (as I'm told), Novel H1N1. Anyway, OC canceled chapel this week in an effort to stem the spread of the disease on campus, and still I had two students miss class because of it, and another who left early (sniffling) for a doctor's appointment.

As a deeply-concerned educator and a compassionate human being, I really hope these disruptions stop happening. As a storyteller, though, I'm anxious to see what's going to befall my class next week. I've got sixteen students, and the class is sixteen weeks long. So far I took the bullet on week 4 (when it was the early birth of my son that interrupted class), and week 5 was a bye, but week 6 hit three students at once. So we're still on track for the rest of them to get one event per week. I'll keep you posted.

Handbook of Technical Writing
So I started my class by stepping out from behind the computer station and holding up a magnificent reference text, Handbook of Technical Writing, vol. 9. I showed it to the class, and said, "How many of you recognize this book?"

I got three or four raised hands. In the back corner, someone asked timidly, "Wait...is that the textbook for this class?"

I showed my teeth, in something like a smile. I asked, "How many of you have read anything in it?" One of them said he'd glanced at the section on copyright, out of curiosity. I shook my head sadly, and then I laid down the law.

Every one of the tutorials I've provided starts out with a list of "related topics," which are section titles straight out of the handbook. It's usually 6-10 pages worth of material, and I always read through those sections before writing my tutorials, so that I'm not repeating information. That means there's some important technical information in there that's the students aren't getting if they're not reading it.

And, I pointed it, it's information that I'm going to expect in their papers when I grade them. If it comes to it -- if I find myself having to hand out Cs and Ds because nobody's reading their textbook, I'll start having weekly reading quizzes. I don't want to do that, because this isn't information that needs to be memorized -- rather, they need to know how to use the textbook as a reference. They need to get a feel for what's in it, and how it's organized, so they can go look stuff up when they need it. I deliberately picked a cheap reference book instead of a big expensive textbook so that they would keep it at the end of the semester, and have that info handy.

So I did my best to express that, and pointed out (by way of example) that none of the multi-page proposal memos they'd turned in had used a header on the second page -- something explicitly stressed in the textbook. I saw some sheepish faces at that, but I'm not grading that one against them, because I hadn't actually taught them how to do headers yet.

Document Headers, Page Headers, and Section Headings
One of the confusing aspects of technical writing, I admitted, is overlapping terminology. For an industry built on clarity of expression, technical writing certainly accepts its share of confusing expressions.

In their first tutorial, I introduced the students to the standard business letter header (which might be a stylized letterhead, or it might just be the sender's contact info). Then the next week I showed them the standard memo header (which consists of four fields: To, From, Date, and Subject). I also asked them to divide their first memo into several sections, each labeled with a heading. Then this week I started complaining that their documents didn't have headers.

For clarity, I refer to this last kind of header as a "page header" (since it essentially appears on every page in the document), and that first kind of header as a "document header," since it only appears once at the top of the document. Actually after business letters and memos, the document header is mostly replaced by title pages, so it doesn't matter.

Still, there's room for confusion. I apologized for that, spelled out in detail what each of these elements is, and told them the trick to keeping it straight is learning the purpose of each element rather than its name. Because they serve clearly distinct purposes, and in context it's almost always easy to recognize which one is under discussion at any given time.

Introductory Paragraphs
Context. That's a word that's come up again and again in the last few weeks. In their proposal memo assignment, I told them exactly which sections they needed to include: Introduction, Scope, Methods, Timetable, Qualifications, and Conclusion. I also reiterated from previous tutorials that every document should have an introductory paragraph. One of my students wrote me during the week to ask if I intended the section labeled "Introduction" to be the introductory paragraph (ah, these overlapping terms again...), and I wrote back that, in fact, no I didn't. I sent that reply as a general email to everyone in the class, but still I got proposals that went straight from the document header into the section heading "Introduction."

So I took the chance to clarify that for them. The purpose of an introductory paragraph is to introduce the document that follows. This blog post starts with the simple, "This post is part of an ongoing series." That's not terribly telling, but it gives you some context. If blogs weren't inherently sequential, I would feel a much stronger need to tell you, in each post, why I'm writing that post.

Memos aren't inherently sequential. Most technical documentation isn't. Emails can be (specifically when they're replies), but most written communication ends up living a life of its own as an independent document. And, most importantly, it doesn't die. Long after you've forgotten about it, long after you lose track of why you asked your boss for two hours' leave in the middle of the day, the document you used to request it is still readily accessible.

More than that, it's reusable. I left aside their proposal memo and turned to email, because it makes the point more effectively. Email is something we do so casually, every day. Half the time, even business emails are just a matter of the guy from the next cubicle asking you to send him something in writing so he can remember that thing you discussed at the water cooler. It doesn't need to be anything more than, "Hey, remember that you agreed to review that document before Friday. --Aaron." We all get in the habit of jotting off quick emails.

Documents that Live Forever
The problem is, even if you know this email only needs to get to the guy in the next cubicle, and only needs to live until Friday, it sticks around. And the Forward button becomes the easiest and most dangerous thing in the world. (That comment got a laugh.) I told them that I'd written hasty little reminders like that to my coworkers that came back to me, years later, and somewhere in the list of people who'd replied in the meantime was the Secretary of the Department of Transportation. Somebody needed my opinion to back up a claim they were sending to Washington, so he forwarded my email on up the chain and I got it back long after I'd forgotten all about the project under discussion (let alone that particular opinion).

I was in the clear, though. I did get brought back into the conversation, but I was able to participate because I'm a good technical writer. Even my quick reminder email included enough of an introduction, enough context that when it popped back into my inbox my own message brought me back up to speed.

Preserving Context
That's exactly what documenting code is for, so I wasn't surprised when the concept resonated with my class. It's not an obvious concept, though. When you sit down to write a document, that's all you're thinking about. Why you're writing this document is so abundantly clear, you can't imagine a time when you would look at this document and not know what it was for. Writers run into this all the time when they try to write the cover letter to submit a novel to an agent or publisher. If I -- a writer -- am writing a letter to a literary agent, isn't it obvious that I'm writing to ask him to represent me? Why do they want introductory paragraphs? Why do I need to come up with some clear way of saying, "I'm writing to ask you to represent my novel." Shouldn't that be obvious?

The thing is, that's all dependent on information I have. I am a writer, and I'm writing to this person as a literary agent. I could be a salesman. I could be an assistant at a major publishing house. I could even be a literary agent. I could be any of those things and a writer seeking representation, or I could be any of those things and writing an identical-looking business letter to discuss something entirely different from a novel query.

The whole purpose of the introductory paragraph in a document is to provide the reader with the same context the writer brings to the document. So it always feels redundant and overdone and silly because it's stating out loud exactly what you've been thinking about since the moment you first realized you needed to write this document. The thing is, especially the way we do things today, your reader could be anybody. It goes so far beyond the literary agent having to guess if you're a writer or an industry professional or somebody trying to sell him vinyl siding. The way we save data today, the reader could be the literary agent, or it could be his assistant, or his boss. It could be one of his students decades from now, when he's given up representation and become a professor. It could be a graduate student decades later researching how I got my start in writing. It could be me decades later, looking back on where I got my start.

I still have every submission letter I've ever written. Most of them have lousy introductions, by the way. I still have most of the business letters I've ever written, for whatever reason. And I've got technical documents that I open up, scroll through a long list of technical information, and have to wonder why I pulled this information together, what purpose it served. For me, as much as for my audience, I need to write clear introductory paragraphs to establish a document's context.

Some Technicalities
All of that took about fifteen minutes. I transitioned from that topic into a discussion of page headers, which we use more than anything to stamp the document's title (and sometimes author) on the top of every page. It does for the page what the introductory paragraph does for the document -- provides context. Footers mostly carry the page number, but sometimes other legal or contextual text gets stuffed down there, too.

I pulled up the class syllabus on the projector and showed them precisely that -- every page had my name, the class name, and "Syllabus" in the header, and "Oklahoma Christian University" and a page number in the footer. By way of another example, I opened a copy of Gods Tomorrow and showed them how I used my name and the document title in the header, as any literary agent or submissions editor would require.

(We diverted into a little discussion of whether or not I'd give extra credit to them for reading my novel, when I caught some of them paying more attention to the text on the screen than to the headers and footers I was pointing out. I said no, because I already have plenty of phenomenal reviewers among you, my loyal readership. They were most disappointed.)

From there, I opened up a document template I'd built over the weekend, which consisted of two pages, landscape, with three columns per page. I walked them through the process of how to do each of those things in Word. Along the way I tried to show them how to insert Section breaks (so I could explain how Word handles different sections), and discovered that the lower resolution my monitor automatically switched to when I plugged in the overhead had truncated my menu bars, and as a result I couldn't find the command to insert section breaks.

That severely interfered with some of the other stuff I wanted to show them, so I had to go on with the lecture describing how this document would behave hypothetically if I had inserted section breaks. Frustrating, but I didn't let it get me flustered.

In-Class Activity
The whole formatting lecture only ran twenty minutes or so. When I was done, I said, "Now we've discussed some of the most frustrating things to work with in Word (columns and section breaks). I've got them all packed together onto this two-page template. Does anyone recognize this particular layout?" The only guess I got was a newspaper, but I didn't wait too long. Instead I picked up a blank piece of paper, turned it sideways, and said, "What if those columns were filled with text, and I folded along the gaps between them?'

I did so, and immediately they recognized the shape of a tri-fold brochure. So then I told them they would get to experience the agony and frustration of working with columns and section breaks, because they were going to build a brochure.

First I had them divide into small groups (3-4 each), and everyone shared with the rest of the group what his or her semester project topic was. They're each developing a new document with a real-world use, so I figured one out of every three or four would be worth promoting. So each group picked the project they thought would best fill a brochure, and got to work.

What I liked about that activity, more than the experience of making a brochure, was the way it got the students discussing their projects among themselves. They're going to have to make a presentation to the class later in the semester, but this way they were able to practice discussing the project out loud in a much less formal environment. More than that, they were asking each other questions and expressing interest in each others' projects in ways that I think will really help them move forward. And, of course, it helped that I got to eavesdrop on all of that from my place at the front of the room.

The Next Forty Minutes
I set them to work for the rest of the class period, and they took all of it. I'd intended to spend that time marking up the last of their proposals and then have them come to my desk one at a time to go over them, but I didn't end up having enough time for that. In the end, I returned all but two of the proposals in the last few minutes of class, and those two I went home, marked up, and scanned in to return by email.

It wasn't just time management that got me, though. I spent a lot of time interacting with the various groups, and they really got into the brochure project. I still remember trying to build my brochure from when I took the class under Gail Nash, and several of my classmates that I talked to about the class said that's the only thing they remember from it.

Ten minutes into it, my class clown said to his groupmates, "To be honest, I'm not really a fan of the in-class activity."

I looked up from the document I was marking up to hit him with a glare, and the English-major who'd joined his group went all wide-eyed and said, "Ohmygosh, he heard you!" Somehow, I didn't laugh.

I shook my head and said, "Oh, he's not scared of me. But, then, I haven't picked his grade yet."

That got a low chorus of, "Oooh," but he immediately shrugged it off and said, "All I need in this class is a D. This is my last semester of my senior year, and I could get Ds in all my classes and still graduate, so there's not a lot of pressure."

Someone else jumped in to lament the fact that he was also in his last semester but he'd already hit his threshold of Ds, and from there the conversation turned to which classes had been cause Ds in the past -- the primary candidates being "Western Civ" and "anything taught by Cami Agan." That one made me smile.

Anwyay, in spite of his claim, he spent the full forty minutes putting together a great brochure, and I've seen no less effort on any of the papers he's turned in. He admitted himself that he's something of a perfectionist, so even if I don't have a real threat to keep him in line, he's still going to meet or exceed my expectations on all my documents.

In the end, I think his antics keep the rest of the students more engaged and casual, and ultimately I think that's worth the little disruptions I have to deal with.

In the end, it was a pretty successful class period. I introduced Headers, Footers and Section Breaks in Microsoft Word (a topic that'll also become a tutorial at some point later in the semester), and everybody practiced looking at their projects from a slightly different angle, which is going to be important moving forward.

More next week.