B
Y A N G I E M O R R I S
Atlanta Chapter
It was the mixture of heat and the smell of honey-flavored cereal that made me remember it. Or maybe the heat alone triggered the flashback, and the honey was just part of remembering. I turned to ask my friend if he could smell it, but then I remembered his olfactory perception was minimal to null. When he could actually smell something, he always made a point to announce the perceived scent. Such was the case with the roast beef sandwich I was eating a few days ago. No pronouncement of the honey scent came, so I was left alone with my memory as we made our way to the convention center entrance.
I remembered the muggy room on the top floor of the factory. Sometimes we had to go up there to shovel up all the rejected cereal that probably went to the local horses, chickens, and any other barnyard animals who have an affinity for cereal. It was the summer of my sophomore year in college. I had decided the cereal factory would be a good character-building job, and the money wasn’t bad either. Of course I had no idea how much character would be required. I avoided the top floor shoveling duty at all costs, opting to test random cereal boxes for marshmallow count, laying coupons under each cereal pack, or even working the 24-pack line with Steve, the guy who used to play professional football until he got shot in the leg during a bar room brawl.
The 12-hour shifts afforded me plenty of time to mull over my destiny. I was going to declare my major in English when school started back, so the visions of my future career usually alternated between two main scenarios. There was me teaching English at a local high school. Then there was me teaching English at a local high school but in a different outfit. For good measure, I would occasionally throw in me teaching English at a local college naked. This last vision usually came after about 30 minutes of shovel duty.
The aroma of my memory dissipated as we reached the door to the convention center. As I opened the door, the energy of the place rippled over me as much as the blast of cool air. It occurred to me that finding STC was almost like discovering the lost world of Atlantis. How incredible to look from the balcony and see droves of technical writers pouring into the Exhibition Hall to register for the 46th Annual STC Conference. Even though this was my second annual conference, I still got the same feeling I did the first time I realized I was surrounded by a few thousand technical writers from all over the world. This feeling can mostly be attributed to the fact that for the greater part of my life, I didn’t even know technical writing was a profession, at least not consciously. Luckily, a technical writer was one of the guest speakers in my senior year writing class.
A mere five years into my technical writing career, I now see the challenge has shifted from convincing other unenlightened people that technical writing is a profession to convincing them that I am keeping up with all the changes in the profession. In my heart I recognize the importance of the one core skill that made me want to be a technical writer – writing! But beyond this, I am faced with the pressures of becoming a usability, information design, training, help, and multimedia expert. And within each of these categories there are numerous sub-categories. Can I work with WinHelp, HTMLHelp, JavaHelp, and Jelp or do I prefer to create web-based help using a little JavaScript and Dynamic HTML?
For me, the annual conference is therapy for all that ails me. This year was no different. Like a mom trying to master the lingo of her teenager, I learned what the cryptic acronyms XSL and XLL actually mean. (That’s eXtensible Stylesheet Language and eXtensible Linking Language). I was only barely hip to XML before the conference, but after the Bleeding Edge session I no longer had to worry about being called a poseur. Back in the day, that’s what we called people who had the audacity to wear the skateboarder’s uniform and haircut without actually knowing how to do all the cool tricks.
The Next Big Thing session provided a fascinating discussion of voice recognition and embedded help. I indulged my love for mysteries in The Smoking Gun session. I attended several excellent sessions that focused on core skills. Creating an effective index is a skill I have overlooked for much too long.
I met new wonderful people from far away places like Italy, London, Australia, and Holland. I met new wonderful people from not so far away places like my hometown of Atlanta. I learned what makes a good book review. I ate gooey, sticky cotton candy while listening to a Polka band. Few people give polka music the credit it deserves (or cotton candy, for that matter). At the STC conference, I did all the things that I needed to do to take on another year in this industry.
Recently a friend shared a few maxims for leading a happy life. At the top of the list was "Accept that things change." I know now that I could have never imagined my current life during that summer in the factory. I couldn’t have even imagined how much the world in general would change. If my hard hat had been a crystal ball, I would have probably wet my coveralls out of pure fear.
After only five years in this profession, I don’t need a crystal ball to feel scared. But now that I am older and wiser and have a few STC conferences under my belt, I know how to better handle the fear. I think about all the people I met at the conference who feel the same things I do. I think about how I’ve felt this way before, and it all worked out in the end. And when the nervous butterflies and anxiety just won’t go away, I think of the things that will always remain… like the smell of honey and cotton candy.
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Volume 2, # 2