A friend of mine - I wouldn't say "an old friend"; but definitely a friend of long standing - emailed me this evening with about fifteen great ideas for things to blog about. The one that caught my attention was his suggestion to shine some light on the sleuthing that technical writers have to do to get a project done.
Most technical communicators have stories about having to get product requirements and functional specifications by hook or by crook. Most of us have stories about trying to get product feature information from the engineering/development team. But the detective work needs to start a long time before then. We need to be mindful of this universal truth:
People ask for what they think they can get - not what they really need or want.
Not too long ago, an engineer came to me in a tizzy - a major customer had asked for a special widgetizing device. The engineer had designed it, developed a test plan, and determined what certifications the new MumbleCo Widgetizer would need. Then - oh, my goodness! - he realized that his project would go nowhere without product documentation.
My engineer friend knew I wrote manuals, so he asked me to write a manual for it. He knew he could get that.
I looked at the Widgetizer. I asked some questions.
What problem does it solve?
What do you use it with?
How do you connect it?
Does it matter which of these connectors you use?
Does it require any new software? Does it have any smarts?
It turned out the Widgetizer was a very simple device designed to do a single thing in a single context. It didn't need software. Plug it in and watch it go.
OK, I said, so about this hypothetical Widgetizer manual: What problem do we need to solve?
We need to tell the customer how to install and use it, said the engineer. He did not say we needed to explain how it works. I love working with this guy; in some crucial ways, he *gets it*. But I'm still trying to coax him into asking for what he needs instead of what he thinks he can get.
So: The Widgetizer has three connectors, two of which are interchangeable, and it lets you do one thing once it's installed.
After an hour or so of discussion, we agreed on the product documentation for the Widgetizer: a label on the connector panel to identify each connection, and a single-sheet document that included text and pictures to guide customers in setting up the Widgetizer and using it. When I presented the finished material for review, my engineer friend agreed that the Widgetizer sheet covered everything a customer would ever need to know in order to use the product successfully. We decided to have it printed commercially and folded up in the box with the Widgetizer. We all lived happily ever after.
I never did write a manual for the Widgetizer. Sometimes I wonder, though, whether there are any customers longing for a 20-page Widgetizer manual.
If so, I hope they'll ask for what they want rather than what they think they can get.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
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