A few days ago, I received an email asking advice about how to become a tech writer. “It’s long been my dream,” said the college student, “to be a technical writer in the software industry.”

It occurred to me that that may be the first time in history that those words have ever been uttered.

As a kid, I never dreamed of becoming a tech writer. I remember an assignment in Fifth Grade where Miss Abbott had me draw a picture of myself in my future profession, and then draw another picture of my backup job, just in case the first one didn’t work out. Miss Abbott was a realist. Anyway, in my first picture I was a baseball player, and in the second I was a coach. Such are the dreams of a grade schooler. I’d seen enough Twilight Zone episodes to know what a computer was, but the PC had not yet been invented, and I think it’s safe to say that if I had had to draw a hundred pictures, tech writing would still not have made the cut.

By my second year of college, the baseball dream died with my .211 batting average. In the final game of my career, I went into the game as a pinch runner and, while I was stretching my legs, got picked off second base. As I walked back to the dugout, I realized that I probably wasn’t destined for the Hall of Fame. I’m real perceptive that way.

The coaching thing didn’t work out either, mainly because I couldn’t nail the lingo. When you’re a coach, you have to keep a straight face as you say insightful things like “We won because we did what we had to do” and “If you’re gonna talk the talk, you gotta walk the walk.” Didn’t work for me. I still remember the day the team manager told me my coaching days were over. “Why not try reporting? If you could learn to write, you’d never even have to come to the field,” he said, smiling at his own wit. Appropriately, it was a half smile.

Fortunately, by this time I was in college and the PC boom had opened up new career avenues for nerds, Trekkies, and failed athletes. I squeezed four years into eight and graduated with a degree in English. Following a complicated career maze that included several moving vans, missed phone calls, and divine interventions, I ended up as a tech writer at Microsoft. I’m glad it worked out this way because I never could have planned it. The work is interesting, the pay is enough, and, unlike my programmer friends, I never get called into the office at midnight to fix a bug. Not that it could never happen. I’ve often envisioned myself stoically walking out the door like Harrison Ford to save the day as my beautiful wife sends me off with a kiss and a worried look.

“Must you go?”
“I’m afraid I must.”
“But why?”
”They need a paragraph written, and I’m the only man alive who can write it. Try to understand.”
“When will you be back?”
“Depends on whether it has to go through editing. I’m not going to lie to you; this could get messy.”
“You’re so brave.”
“Keep a good thought.”

Recently, I asked my own Fifth Grader about his plans for the future. “I think I want to be a pro baseball player, or maybe a coach,” he said. “But if that doesn’t work out, I’ll be a tech writer at Microsoft.”

Good plan, kid. Just don’t stray too far off second base.

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