Oh hell, Vickie thinks.
Writing for eLearners is so much harder than writing for classroom training. She wishes she could write like delivering in the classroom.
But here she is, frustrated. At her desk staring at a jumbled screen.
Alone. Staring at her badly phrased words.
Vickie has a quote by Kurt Voonegut, on a cardboard tent on her desk.
“Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.”
Yeah, sure, Vickie thinks. She understands that.
But how can she make it work?
Let me explain my 4-step process for engaging learners … one at a time.
Step 1: Pick the right ideas to meet your learning objectives.
If you’re wondering who I’m writing for …
Of course, it’s you.
Otherwise, you wouldn’t be reading this.
When I pick my ideas for a new training narrative, I always ask myself: What’s in it for you? Why would you want to complete this?
Officially, my ideal learner is Libby, a young leader who wants to be a supervisor in the factory where she is a leading hand. She’s very much like I was.
But who exactly Libby is, is not so important. What’s key is that I try to understand her particular aims. I know she wants to be a supervisor. I know she procrastinates sometimes. I know she wants to be better at dealing with conflict. She wants to build her confidence in dealing with people. She wants to deal from a position of strength and knowledge.
Libby has helped me become more learner-focused. But over time, her picture in my mind has blurred a little. I’ve answered a lot of her questions in earlier Modlettes but this one on handling conflict raises more issues.
I notice interesting aspects of conflict and question how I can use these to help Libby become a better supervisor. When would she use them? Why are they interesting? Or: why would I read this?
Whatever form the question takes, the key for me is to write stuff that Libby will understand and use, to always have a clear purpose for what I write. I’m not just assembling facts; I’m helping my learner to understand and believe.
Step 2: Write with the door closed.
After I’ve got my head around what I’m about to teach, I might do a mindmap or write a quick outline. What do I need to explain? What questions do I need to answer? How do I ensure my narrative is helpful to you?
Now a first draft:
“Write with the door closed, re-write with the door open. Your stuff starts out being just for you, in other words, but then it goes out.” –Stephen King.
When I write a first draft, I forget Libby for a while and I don’t think of you either. (I’m sorry!).
My sole task is to get something down on paper! (Yes, I still do all my design on paper). Writing a first draft of a narrative is the hardest part of writing for me. So, the bar has to be as low as possible, and I don’t like you or Libby or anybody else looking over my shoulder.
I allow myself to write a bad first draft. There maybe gaps in the information I’m giving. Missing references. Dodgy sentences. Bad word choice. It doesn’t matter. Nobody needs to see how shaky my first draft is. It just needs to come into existence, and then it can be revised.
Step 3: Become your own writing coach.
To start revising, I change roles.
I am no longer the author of that crappy first draft anymore. I become the coach who will improve it. To make that transition and look at my draft with fresh eyes, I leave a first draft for a minimum of 24 hours.
When I become my own coach, I don’t wear a different hat or different shirt, but it feels that way. I’m a different person and I don’t need to feel disappointed about my writing. I review what’s good and what needs to be improved. And mostly I ask myself: Does the writing actually say what it needs to say for the learning to take place?
A first draft is often messy. I don’t phrase my thoughts clearly. I often just hint at them. Explanations aren’t as clear as they could be.
Working out what I want to say and then making sure the text actually says that is often the most challenging part of my editing process. It’s also the most important. My approach is that of a kind coach. I’m straight with my feedback, I don’t overlook any vagueness. I improve everything that can be improved.
Step 4: Open the conversation
When the coach in me is fairly happy, I swap hats again, and I try to read my text through the eyes of a learner.
Maybe through Libby’s eyes. Maybe through Vickie’s eyes. Maybe through a younger me.
- Here is what I ask myself:
Where do I assume knowledge that my learner might not possess? - What’s boring?
- Where’s my tone unsuitable?
- Where does the learner need some empathy or comfort?
I see a Modlette as a conversation with my learner. Using all the 6 media available. I sense the learner’s presence, and I write to make them feel part of the conversation. I pay attention to the rhythm of my writing because I know the learner will sense the rhythm. I want to create a smooth flow, a pleasant rhythm. I pay attention to my tone and the words I’ve chosen. I try to transmit a compassionate self.
So, my word to my instructional design student is:
Create conversations, not shopping lists.