Sometime over the weekend, I was heard to comment to my husband that you wouldn’t think it could take so bloody much work to write barely 200 words.
By the time I made the comment, I had spent
- 2 hours in video calls
- Several Signal messages
- 8+ hours of writing
- 4+ hours of planning
- 1.5 iterations
- 10+ git commits
- Untracked time reading
- Uncountable moments of staring at the wall
- Three days
- Several mugs of Ovaltine
- And not enough baby cuddles
- And I still wasn’t finished the iteration I was working on.
My husband threw a glance over his shoulder, from the dishes he was washing to my fagged-out, brain-drained face, and commented matter-of-factly:
‘Which is why you get paid the way you do.’
The project is a landing page, for a software team that genuinely cares about detail.
It’s the kind of detail that asks things like:
‘Was it intentional that you used this word here but that synonym there? Can you explain it for me?’
And I appreciate it.
But it struck me, while completing the CopyDoc for the project, how few people document their content.
The CopyDoc for this almost-200-words thing, just so you’re across the scale of it, runs to more than 10 pages. It includes all explorations for every tiny piece, from buttons to leading paragraphs. It also includes research, thinking, critical components, terminology, notes, ideas, and explanations. In fact, you could probably read the doc and get a sense
of the journey I’ve taken towards this probably-200-words.
When’s the last time you got served a journal with the content you farmed out?
When’s the last time you wanted to test a variation, and knew exactly where to go to find out you’d already tested that variation?
When’s the last time you even thought about documenting your content?
Never, probably. Amirite?
At Write the Docs in Sydney a couple of years ago, a technical writer from somewhere in Greater Asia asked me how he might improve his practice without a team.
Having run solo for most of my career, I knew the problem very well.
I suggested he document his docs.
That way, I pointed out, he can leverage his network and find a buddy to help his ongoing development.
He studied me for a moment. ‘Docs for the docs?’ He rubbed his chin, stared a while longer. His brain churned for a while. ‘Hmm I can already see where that would be helpful, actually.’
If you aren’t keeping your own documentation, allow me to inspire you today.
Keep records.
Allow your business to level up.
Request copy docs from your freelancers.
Or better yet, work with me.
If you’ve got a need, and a budget of at least $1400 per month, open a discovery call now.
No bookings required:
https://ZipMesage.com/leticiamooney