Technical Writing, though a study of academia, largely embodies itself in industry and is a skill needed to work with what we academics regard as the “real” world, a world in America dictated largely by Capitalist notions and demands. Constraints in this world often circle around time constraints, clarity, ethics, and the dollar. Considering this mode of ambition linked to specific needs of businesses (getting that manual done for a deadline, processing the quality control on the translation of the manual quickly and effectively in order to accommodate audiences who read different languages, pulling in revenue from the production of said manual, etc.) and the actual act of writing, tech writers and businesses must address these questions: is it worth examining the process of writing/will examining the process of writing benefit either the writer or the business? The answer? Probably not.

I say probably and not definitely since I believe there is always value in self reflection and value in scholarship focused on the examination of writing process, but that value is likely more readily applied to reflective forms of writing that occur within other kinds of English courses like creative non-fiction or English 101 than in the tech writing classroom or the tech writing workplace. Linda Flower and John Hayes endorse a cognitive model of writing process that claims “Obviously, the best way to model the writing process is to study a writer in action” (365), a method that asserts that we can learn from observing what writers do to determine how exactly the writing process occurs. Flower and Hayes conclude, “if one studies the process by which a writer uses a goal to generate ideas, then consolidates those ideas and uses them to revise or regenerate new, more complex goals, one can see this learning process in action” (386). The value of this is “By placing emphasis on the inventive power of the writer, who is able to explore ideas, to develop, act on, test, and regenerate his or her own goals, we are putting an important part of creativity where it belongs-in the hands of the working, thinking writer” (386).

Certainly the act of creating technical documents is one of creativity through a set of specific choices tailored towards an intended audience, but the likelihood that an employer will be interested in the process through which writers get to this outcome is low. I can see how laying the process bare, a rhetorical step Ian Bogost and Kenny Goldsmith would acknowledge, opens the opportunity for instilling corrective procedures to the writing process, but that’s not necessarily Flower’s interest. Flower is interested in studying the process itself, and certainly the pedagogical aspects of this understanding, but not the workplace application, an application that is important to technical writers and the use of their skill.

Ultimately, Flower and Hayes’ study and others like it that focus on the “dynamics of discovery” (381) are interesting, but don’t seem to easily lend themselves to developing specific and applicable writing techniques the same way consulting SME’s, focusing on the Rhetorical situation, or having a smart sense of audience demonstrated through writing technique and form can. If understanding how one comes to any particular conclusion or how that same person stores or manages files could lead to greater work efficiency or better constructed technical documents, I’m sure employers who depend on technical writers would take notice; but until then, the produced product will continue to matter more than the product’s production, a value worth emphasizing in the workplace and classroom.