Two Years in Technical Writing: What a Former Academic has Learned

Two years ago, I walked into a manufacturing facility with no formal experience as a technical writer. What I had instead was three years of teaching experience in writing centers and a liberal arts master’s degree in English.

Over the course of the past two years, I’ve drafted, redrafted, stretched, and pulled on this idea of what’s changed for my writing and my outlook on the English degrees that I had pursued. Taking off the rose-colored glasses to an ivory tower lifestyle, trading in glossy heels for dust-covered boots, and condensing long, floral and deep analytical prose into fast-paced instruction were relatively easy in practice. Defining that experience in writing has been…hard.

It wasn’t until I was in line at a bookstore last summer, where I saw The New Yorker had published an article by Nathan Heller, the title across the cover in bright red text: “The End of the English Major”. The ideas and emotions that I had been harboring finally started clicking together. I had languished drafting this article, but it was the one pulling on my shirt sleeves to write. I wanted to take the identity I had had as a teacher and press it into the back of the closet where my suit jackets now stay, but then again, the identity I’ve gained now would be missing integral pieces.

English majors are becoming few and far between, and most who do pursue it tend to end up outside of the literary profession. Most end up with a crippling debt, and the few who find success oftentimes find it outside of their discipline. Those who pursue teaching receive commentary of the hardships that are included in modern teaching, and the sale of the English major has become a dive bar joke, leaving those with penchants for Shakespeare or rhetoric or writing dry and salty.

So we leave both the bars and the Bard in a pursuit for financial well-being. Set with ink-filled pens and empty pads of paper, we pursue our own success in various spaces outside of our initial interests, and transfer our knowledge with new perspectives and outlooks towards both the English profession and those that we enter in.

A Shift in Perspective

While academia is pursuant of English majors, the traditional nuances of the Liberal Arts degree expects the pursuance of higher degrees, lower pay, demanding contracts, or exportation into retail sales positions as the result of having a Bachelor of Arts degree. I had taken the first route towards a Master’s degree, and had enjoyed teaching, but that path was short. Universities expect most English courses to be taught by adjunct professors, who receive little pay, burnout, and minimal work-life balance as compensation. I taught alongside a woman who worked at three local universities teaching eight introductory-level college courses to pay the bills, juggling travel time, grading time, and a personal life. Another had been brought to tears during our end-of-semester review because how can a single woman make it on an adjunct salary?

After the pandemic hit, I paused teaching and finished my degree, and came to an impasse. Did I want to continue pursuing contract after contract, with little or no opportunity each Spring and Summer, or did I want to find a consistent career that would meet my financial needs?

Even after that semester’s conclusion, I still pursued teaching and applying for academic positions across the country at various universities. Through this, as I would answer my father’s questions of “how much would they pay?” he would tell me “Go find a job in industry”. Flipping my perspective, my father pushed and prodded me towards the spaces that have supported my family through four generations. It was time to walk into the factory.

The Art of Conversation

Manufacturing isn’t a go-to space for most in Liberal Arts — a majority of students who pursue a degree in this school of thought haven’t stepped foot in a factory, nor do they intend to or are expected to. More blue-collar than white, more masculine than feminine, manufacturing plants are dedicated to blueprints, standards, and are generally viewed as rough spaces compared to the white, airy offices of corporate businesses. But while manufacturing is in pursuit of perfect processes and output, it centralizes around communications and communication management — a central topic for most Liberal Arts majors.

90% of all business problems stem from communication problems — tone, word choice, and voice all play into the way that an idea is spoken of and listened to. The language that one uses in their writing reflects not only that writer’s innate bias, that writing reflects the culture driven within that writer’s environment. Manufacturers seek writers who can demonstrate strong communicative practices and who are willing to listen to workers on the production line, putting forth countless hours observing and interviewing employees about processes and standards that they work with daily. These writers in turn build networks of relationships that lead to a wealth of knowledge and insights, which often leads to building personal connections with these coworkers as well.

This work is not a hard science — scholars who work in writing centers conduct countless hours of research to review interactions between writing center employees and their clientele, searching for best ways to begin sessions, place the clients at ease, and work through the tasks at hand.

Fewer, but Meaningful Words

Standardization calls for structure — something grammarians are keen of in word usage. Quality documentation provided to end-users must be easily read, to-the-point, and clearly match other outward facing documentation to meet mutually agreeing standards set by the business and the customer. While of length, academic essays are expected to follow those same guidelines.

English majors are known to write long pieces of prose, but they often are associated with fiction and prose that speaks to the soul’s entertainment. In turn, many writers don’t always dig straight to the point. Instead, readers are expected to be in it for the long haul — making a story interesting.

Continued Training

Since joining the field of Technical Writing, I have not stopped learning. Each training has brought me further into the fold of global manufacturing — the industrial concept of Lean is primarily associated with the Japanese car maker Toyota, which uses both Japan’s culture and American manufacturing principles to create efficient, streamlined processes. Training Within Industry (TWI) practices and ideologies stem from 1940’s Americana when women began working in factories. I listen to podcasts such as those provided by The Manufacturing Hub, read books related to Toyota manufacturing, and continue to read articles of other technical writers’ experiences to build on my own developments in a methodical way to analyze and assess end-goals.

Keeping Past Experiences Close

Although I have left academia, I still pursue research as I once had. I still analyze the rhetorics behind various learning methodologies and practices. TWI is based in World War II production needs, how does this framework fit within a global economy that has seen multiple technological and societal revolutions since then? The rhetoric behind Lean methodologies is based in Japanese work culture with a central focus on Toyota manufacturing, which is vastly different from America’s individualist culture and work standards. How is that best applied in American manufacturing plants?

A Reflection

So perhaps this piece is a reflection of who I was versus who I am now, or a guide to show that this school of thought in English studies is valuable. Perhaps it is a voucher for writing centers to receive better accolades to their works. Perhaps it is a plea for other university programs to balance the humanities within the overarching academic financial framework, with offerance of the same reverence and respect as is provided to others. Perhaps even still, this is a call to action for those searching for a better chance at survival outside of their academic halls and classrooms.

To those who have pursued a degree in English, or Communications, or another variant of the traditional Liberal Arts degree, I commend you for your pursuance of both happiness and humanitarian knowledge. Continue honing your craft, but stay open to the possibilities of transferring your knowledge outside of the comfort of the traditional rhetoric. Stretch the ideas of what is expected into those of what can be done.