Part of our job as technical writers is to give our readers a smooth ride through the text. And it’s not a small part of the job either. It’s important, even if it means we spend a fair bit of time correcting other people’s writing. Or does that just turn us into glorified copy editors — what do you think?
This isn’t new to most tech writers, but it came to mind again recently when I was making a couple of very small corrections to a page in our Confluence documentation. A reader had added a comment to the page, saying that she had noticed a couple of typos. Thank you Rosie (The comment is still on the page at time of writing this blog post, but it will probably disappear in a couple of weeks.)
Rosie had picked up two spelling mistakes: “serch” and “mutliple”. I myself find the second one particularly bothersome, because my eyes don’t quite believe that they’re seeing it right. So they go back a couple of times just to check that the mistake really is a mistake.
Why is this important?
Because we don’t want to distract our readers from the important stuff just because it’s written funny
OK, so prove it!
It’s easy enough when we’re talking about simple spelling mistakes. “Serch” should obviously be “search”. And “mutliple” is just painful. But what about the more complex aspects of grammar, vocabulary and style?
When you read a sentence like this:
Sarah is eat a chocolate.
you’re hit by a LAN.
And this one:
On the way to work this morning I saw a goldfish swimming around the bus.
gives you an N400 when you read the word “bus”.
A “LAN” (Left Anterior Negativity) is a measurable blip in the electrical impulse which your brain emits when your internal language processor encounters something ungrammatical — like the word “eat” in the first sentence. The blip takes between three and seven tenths of a second to register on an EEG.
An “N400″ blip happens when you encounter a word which doesn’t fit the context – like the word “bus” above. This one takes about four tenths of a second.
This information comes from Steven Pinker’s book, Words and Rules. It was pretty cool to learn that there’s a measurable physical manifestation of that feeling of discomfort I get when a sentence jars.
But what is “correct” English anyway?
I might suffer a LAN zap when you write “Remember to invite Peter and I to your party”. But many people don’t!
(BTW, “Peter and I” is wrong in that sentence, and I’m ready to battle that one out to the end if anyone’s game to take me on )
Or you might get a LAN buzz when I start a sentence with the word “or”. But I think it’s OK.
Why does the tech writer get to decide what’s right and what’s not?
We don’t. Language is a living, changing thing. Different words and constructs will sound good or bad to different people and at different times in history. Consistency is the key. Provided a document or a documentation suite is consistent in its usage of grammar, style and vocabulary, the reader will get that fabled smooth ride.
So which standards do we use? It doesn’t matter all that much, provided you pick a standard that is recognised in your neck of the woods.
At Atlassian, where I work, we use these two guides:
- Style manual for authors, editors and printers (John Wiley & Sons Australia)
- Macquarie Dictionary, Fourth Edition of the Essential Dictionary (University of Sydney)
We’re based in Australia. Our US office has copies of these books too, and we’ve agreed to go with the Australian standard because we’re originally an Ozzie company. I suspect that many Americans think it’s cute
Taking standardisation even further…
Scott from DMN writes about a DocTrain West session he attended, given by Berry Braster and listing the advantages of Simplified Technical English.
A Scribbly Gum tree in my garden
Moving on to scribbles and smoothness of another sort… The Scribbly Gum tree is quite common in this part of Australia. It has a lovely smooth white bark which gleams silver in the wet.
As you get closer, you notice some weird zigzag lines marring the smooth surface. It’s just as if someone has scribbled on the bark.
The markings can be quite intricate and almost seem have some meaning which you can’t quite discern.
But actually, the “drawings” are tunnels dug by the larvae of the Scribbly Bark moth, known less intimately as Ogmograptis scribula.
I vote that we make the Scribbly Gum the mascot of technical writers. All in favour say “aye”