Word For Writers

“The biggest problem with Word is that it is way too much program for 90% of creative writers and self-publishers.” JW Manus.

Yep. I read discussions of Word on the network all the time. Many of the comments are negative. Sometimes I take time to defend Word or offer tips on how to use Word more effectively. But I have to admit that something about Word is seriously broken, but not the application itself. It’s better than ever.

Agile programing and continuous update have changed the software industry. In the old days, we spent months or years designing a program down to the last detail. Then code and unit test for another year or so. Then quality assurance system testing executed tests based on the design, not the as-built code. Every failed test was a dagger in your heart. If you were “lucky” QA was cut short to meet roll out deadlines. And, more often than not, when the product finally hit the customers, it was a travesty.

Software is maddeningly complex, and its presence often changes its environment in ways that invalidate the requirements which the software is intended to meet, and software is more fluid than any physical object. A program designed several years before a real user touches it, never meets user expectations.

The enormous cost overruns and failed projects that plagued software of the 1990s were largely due to a methodology called called “waterfall development.” In the waterfall, design, construction, testing, and acceptance of the final product proceed in strict order. Each phase must be completed and signed off on before the next phase can begin. Administrators loved it because they always had signed documents to shake in people’s faces. It worked great for bridges, skyscrapers, World War II, and the moon landing, but failed for software.

Today, the prevailing approach is to build software in small increments. Build a single feature, release to a test user group, look at the problems and let the release generate further ideas, then fix the defects, incorporate the ideas, and roll out another incremental release. Keep the increments small and rinse and repeat forever. The network bandwidth and speed available today makes it possible to develop continuously in small increments. This has proven to be much more successful than the waterfall.

Microsoft and many other software developers have adopted the agile methodology, but the new methodology has its own problems.

An unforeseen consequence of agile programming and continuous update is that documentation doesn’t keep up well with the development of the product. Microsoft has opened a fire hose of development and innovation in Word and documentation has not kept up.

Writing and revising documentation often takes as much time as developing and testing code. Asking a writer to document incomplete code easily degenerates into a time-wasting mess. Distinguishing defects from features is often hard and software can turn on a dime. The documentation often has to be rewritten at the last minute anyway. Consequently, the documentation usually trails behind the product.

However, documentation is also critical to software quality. If a feature is not clearly enough documented for a customer to use it well, the system is broken, no matter how perfectly it works.

Microsoft Word has suffered from the efficiency of agile development and frequent updates. Word processing in general has leaped ahead in the last few decades and it becomes more powerful with every automatic software upgrade, faster processor, increase in available memory and storage, and jump in network bandwidth.

So often, when I read of writer’s problems with Word, I think of some poor sap trying to cut a two-by-four with a Skillsaw without plugging it in or turning it on.

And I sympathize. They’re writers. They don’t have time or inclination to become experts on a huge and challenging system like Microsoft Word. Writers usually learn just enough to get the job at hand done and then get back to their serious business of writing. The solution might work but be all wrong down the road. Two months later, when they tackle a similar problem, their half-learned and half-remembered solution lets them down. And intervening updates may have improved the process, but they also changed it. Who wouldn’t be mad?

Microsoft has not made it easy. These days, most developers aspire to programs that are so simple to use, they don’t need documentation. But that’s an aspiration that is devilishly difficult to realize when the work done by the program is as complicated and hard to understand as word processing today.

I’m a software engineer and architect who coded his first word processor at the same time he started using word processors forty years ago. In recent years, I’ve burned hours puzzling over Word help forums. I’ve resorted to reading the xml in docxs and studying Word OLE documentation to get a feeling for Word’s internals. I used to know developers on the Word dev team and watched them stumble while using Word. In the end, I’ve always concluded that Word is a good product, well-designed with surprising power and flexibility, but first priority for writers is to write, not become Word experts.

Nevertheless, the writers who plug in their Skillsaw, instead of going back to a handsaw, will make more sawdust.

Today, if you are having trouble with Word, I suggest getting a copy of Word For the Wise by JW Manus. It will help. I have some disagreements with some of her approaches—I go farther with styles and I think my process is easier and more foolproof—but you won’t go wrong following her advice. Her book is still the best I’ve seen.

Johnny Jump Up

My mother loved Johnny Jump Ups. Her birthday was toward the end of March. As her birthday approached, she went out into the woods, looking for Johnny Jump Ups. They were among the first spring flowers to appear on the woods floor. Johnny Jump Ups are wild pansies. I don’t have any pictures of Johnny Jump Ups from our woods.

Generic yellow pansies. Grant [CC BY 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)]

Grandma Waschke cultivated pansies that she grew from seeds, mostly purchased from Tilllinghast’s seeds down in LaConner.

My mother had nothing against my grandmother’s cultivated pansies, but she had no passion for them either. My mother went to business college and learned to be a bookkeeper. Before she married my father, she was a bookkeeper at various businesses in Lynden and Bellingham. My grandmother grew roses and pansies. Mom tended the vegetable garden and searched for Johnny Jump Ups and Easter Lilies (Trilliums) in the woods and tried to transplant them to grow in the yard.

She succeeded with the trilliums. They grow well on the north side of the house. They are most likely up now, uncurling their leaves. They will bloom in a week or so, the white blooms turning purple as Easter arrives and the season wears on. There are blue, pink, and white violets in the lawn. Violets and pansies are the same thing, but the violets in the lawn are not Johnny Jump Ups.

In our woods, Johnny Jump Ups are small bright yellow flowers with a black accents that look as if they were drawn with a sharp crow foot nib and black India ink from the finest and blackest charcoal. The black in the generic photo above looks smeared compared to my mother’s Johnny Jump Ups. They grow in bright yellow and green beds on the bleached gray leaves of the woods floor. My mother succeeded in digging Johnny Jump Ups from the woods, generally under spreading big-leaf maples, and transplanting them to little clay pots she lined up on the window sill above the kitchen sink. The blossoms lasted a week or so and lived on as nice little green plants, but they never bloomed a second season. Pansies are perennials, but gardeners usually replant them each year, as my grandmother did.

A Retired Software Architect

Mornings, I have walked Waschke Road and its fields covered in the fog, and wandered through the foggy woods. Bitterly cold winter ice fog, gentle late summer ground fog, sodden brooding November fogs. Wisps of vapor drift three steps away. Waiting for sun, watching daytime moons, searching for hounds, bay horses, and turtle doves.

Photo by Christopher Waschke

Fog on Waschke Road comes from the west, the Salish Sea, the Straits of Georgia, the Straits of Juan De Fuca, the Islands of Japan. China. The fog floats up the Nooksack, Silver Creek, Deer Creek, slides on greased skid roads, rolls on gravel, asphalt, and concrete. It comes up from the red loam and down from the gray sky. From the water to the land, settling in among the firs and cedars.

Owls glide in the morning fog with muffled wing flaps, field mice scream as red talons pierce their downy pelts and lift them from their damp tunnels, carrying them beyond the fog and into the treetops and the gables of the barn.

Flying owl. C9 Photography

Software architects build castles of fog. Wood, steel, and concrete castles break your toes, collar bones, and skull when forces are unbalanced, but software castles are drifting electrical signals. Software architects dispel them with “cd /; rm -Rf *”. And, trust me, they never forget how.