To blog or not to blog

A colleague remarked on Twitter that he's thought about blogging, but didn't feel that he had anything of value to say. I started thinking about why I follow him on Twitter: Because he's the sort of person I'd want to hang out with if we lived near each other - insightful, funny, and obviously passionate about his work. His tweets are always worth reading. I can learn from him, be inspired by him, and enjoy his wit.

And this man doesn't think he has anything to offer on a blog, so he hasn't been blogging.

One of the other threads that day was to do with the Dunning-Kruger Effect, which for years I'd been calling "meta-cluelessness" - the idea that some people lack the information or skill to discern that they lack information or skill.

My colleague seemed to be exhibiting the flip side of this effect: Highly capable people tend to underestimate their own skills and knowledge quite consistently, assuming that everyone knows at least as much as they do. If you've been doing a thing for a long time, and have quietly become an expert at it, you may take for granted what you know about it. You may assume that, since you've managed to learn how to knit socks, or rebuild engines, or write help that keeps customers from making tech support calls unless something actually breaks, surely everybody else in the entire world must know how by now.

But you're wrong. Lots of people don't know what you know. If you talk or write about it, some of those people will pay attention. Some of them will find your style engaging, and will want to learn from you. You'll enjoy getting to know some of them through their comments. You'll learn from some of them.

What are you waiting for? Your fans are looking for you. Start writing!

A glass half-full of new wine

A while back, I encountered a former business associate at a coffee shop and explained to her that I was embarking upon a career change. She told me I was overdue - on average, she said, people change careers every seven years.

Seven years - is that all? It's probably going to take me seven years to stop viewing the world through technical-writer-colored glasses. Navigating the intricacies of the red tape surrounding the training program I'm in, I've been documenting and reporting what it's taken to get things done. Looking through my new Cisco networking book today, my mental editor had her blue pencil out. Even so, I was a lot more mentally engaged with the idea of scoring a free motherboard. This tells me my mind-set is starting to move.

I'm still getting inquiries about my technical writing services from potential clients, some of whom seem intrigued at the idea of a technical writer with IT chops. For all I know, this may be less a career change than a specialization. But I'm excited about the possibility of doing something totally other than writing for a living.

The future looks frightening when you look forward and see only a wall; but when you look forward and see a multitude of paths, it's hard to be anything but optimistic.

The idea that wouldn't die

Some ideas sound great for about five seconds, and then gracefully go away. Some sound uninspiring at first, but gradually reveal their brilliance. And some ideas sound like Manhattan Projects for opening pickle-jars, but they just won't go away. Exhibit A in this category is the idea of certifications for technical writers.

Full disclosure first:
I do not meet the educational requirements so loved by personnel departments. I have never studied journalism or English, beyond the bare minimum. I do not have a bachelor's degree in anything. I have a trade-school degree in electronics. I became a technical writer more or less by accident. So I don't like the idea because it might mean my résumé and sheaf of awards might not be enough to get me in the door for interviews.

Let's step back, though, and think about this.

What problem are we trying to solve?
There's no arguing the fact that in every profession, there are people who just aren't any good at what they do; and it's hard to get rid of them once you've hired them. It would be easier if there were a way to avoid hiring them. There is; but it requires knowing something about the work. Organizations hiring their first technical writers don't have that expertise; but they need to get it right the first time. So there is a real business problem to be solved.

Many professions use certifications, some with more success than others. I respect people who are certified project management professionals. I know the effort it represents, and I know the range of skills upon which it focuses. I respect people who have been certified as professional engineers; again, I know that the letters "PE" after the name represent a great deal of work and a fair degree of skill.

I'm not nearly as comfortable with teacher certification, because I'm not persuaded that it's meaningful. I've dealt with far too many teachers who could be described at best as mediocre. Go ahead and flame me. In ninth grade I had a science teacher who could not do sums. (Hey, here in Texas we are all about equal opportunity.) Is it possible to create technical writing certifications that are more meaningful than teacher certifications?

To be useful, certification needs to do three things:

• Correctly identify the essential skills of the profession.
• Assign them appropriate importance relative to one another.
• Test them in a valid way.

The sheer diversity of work that comes under the heading of "technical writing" makes it difficult even to identify a core skill set. Is there a meaningful "common denominator" among all the skills represented in our profession?

I was once hired as a technical writer for a job that involved no writing at all. I was to add conditional text tagging to existing material in such a way that the team could produce manuals for new products without changing the text and conditions already in place for existing products. I have had technical writing jobs that included extended periods of creating pictorial instructions only. One might think that any technical writer should have an excellent command of grammar and punctuation; but would it have been meaningful to require proficiency in grammar and punctuation in these situations?

Should we even think of technical writing as a single profession?

Many have suggested specialized certifications to address this. But technology moves quickly, while certifying bodies move slowly. What's going to be the good of having a ten year old certificate in web design? The only solution I can see is to certify people's understanding of concepts rather than implementations. Don't certify people in web design; certify their understanding of usability, searchability, and accessibility. Don't certify people in writing manuals; certify them in organizing information and knowing when to show rather than tell.

That might actually work.