"How to" books are among the most popular kinds of non-fiction books. People are always looking for books to tell them how to find a mate, fix a car, run a computer, direct a play, cook a meal. If you know how to do something, chances are you can teach someone else.
To Tell the Truth is an 18-week mini-series exploring the practical side of non-fiction writing and publishing. The series outline is located here, and previous episodes may be found here. To Tell the Truth is published Monday evenings and is crossed posted at MélangePress.
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However, it’s not always easy – when we’re experts on how to do something, we take much of the process for granted. When I taught writing and composition, I would use the following exercise to point out some of the pitfalls.
The prompt was simple: instruct me to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
It was always at this point that my students would snicker. But I assured them I was serious – and so they would begin by casually suggesting I put the peanut butter on the bread. And I would. I would plunk that jar right down on the bag of bread.... to which they’d laugh, but also realize that we take many steps for granted. They would then realize that I needed a supply list, which included a knife, a plate, and the foodstuffs involved. They’d realize I required instructions to open the jars, open the bag of bread and extract two slices, etc. By the end of the exercise, they had written complete instructions, and I had lunch.
Of course, many procedurals are more complex – either they are long descriptions of one major process (attract a mate) or multiple short descriptions around a theme (a chocolate desserts cookbook). Let’s look at each of these separately, as they do require some different guidelines.
One major process
Your long process is more than likely an in-depth examination of something like a computer program, a self-help method, or a health plan. Each chapter will be a step in that process, so make sure your readers have a roadmap early on. They’re going to want to know that this is, say, a twelve-step/fourteen-week/twenty-two feature process, and that by the end of it, the result will be a more loving spouse/slimmer butt/working knowledge.
Be certain there is continuity between the steps. Let’s say you’re writing a diet book. If an early chapter limits the amount of grains allowed, and a later chapter talks about unlimited grains, make sure it’s clear why this changes (induction v. maintenance, for example). Otherwise, readers will be flipping back and forth wondering whether they can chow down on oatmeal or not.
Make sure that each step is a step. With long procedurals, there can be a lot of theory and case study. Make sure that if each chapter is a step in the process, there is an actual step, with accomplishments/tangible goals/visible changes. Exercises are good measures, and give your readers something to mark their progress by.
Also make sure the theory is there. There is nothing worse than being told to do stuff and having no idea what you’re doing. I am currently working with an author on a procedural piece about strategic visioning. In one part of the process, prioritizing, the author initially dove in and explained how to do this particular (and somewhat unique) prioritizing method. It made little sense to me, so I asked him "why?" He went on to explain that this method of prioritizing would help determine which parts of the vision are on the course to manifestation and which needed examining for commitment, resources, and true desire. Once I got his theory, the process made sense.
Many mini processes
These tend to be a series of recipes, craft projects, planting instructions, etc. Mini process pieces tend to be hands-on. These are more like the peanut butter and jelly exercises – you will need a materials list, anticipated results, and detailed instructions. Take for example this simple recipe – a favorite of my mother’s for community/church cookbook submissions.
Curried Fruit Bake
1 can each: apricot halves, peach halves, pear halves, ring pineapple slices
1 jar maraschino cherries
½ cup butter
1 tlb curry powder
½ cup brown sugar
Arrange pineapple slices on the bottom of a 9"x13" baking dish. Lay an apricot, peach, or pear half in each ring. Place a maraschino cherry in each apricot, pear, or peach half.
Melt butter and combine with curry powder and brown sugar.
Pour butter/curry mixture over fruit.
Bake in 350°F oven for 30 minutes. Serves 6-8. (We like to serve it with baked ham and rice pilaf, but it’s good with anything.)
Even if your mini processes are not tangible (like yummy baked fruit), remember to include the materials, results, and instructions. There is a lovely volume by Jennfer Louden called The Women’s Comfort Book. Louden describes several dozen ways for women to find comfort/take care of themselves – from making collages to taking scented baths. For each one, she describes everything you need, everything to do, and everything to expect. (When I went on the Amazon hunt for the link above, I discovered she’s written other books in the series, including the called The Couple’s Comfort Book...and it reminds me of a tip I don’t cover elsewhere in the series: if you have a good idea, think about the spin-offs. If you write a book for one demographic, can it be altered for another? Can you do a follow-up? Add a workbook?)
For all procedurals
Test, test, and test again! The worst thing you can do in a procedural is skip a step, or worse, an ingredient. First, review your own written processes a few times – try your best to follow your own recipes/steps and make sure you’ve caught the most egregious errors.
After you review your process, have friends, clients, and colleagues try your processes. In some cases, it works okay to sit with them, allow them to do the work and make notes. Other times, you may want to set them off on their own and report back. (This is especially helpful if you’ve forgotten the sugar in a shortcake recipe – you can avoid being a target for the dry, bitter, airborne biscuits when the tester takes her first chomp.) Be prepared, though, for the calls when your testers are stuck, burned, bleeding, or poisoned. (Maybe you should get waivers first?)
Also, make sure you put in any warnings, cautions, and disclaimers. If in doubt, contact your attorney.
Where to Start
One of the issues in procedurals is knowing your audience; we’ll cover more about this in week 10, but for procedural writing, it’s vital to know at what level your readers are coming in. If you’re writing The Idiot’s Guide to Painting Your House, you can assume your readers don’t know anything and will need basics on the kinds of paint, basic brush techniques, even basic equipment descriptions. If you’re writing Advanced Techniques for Painting Victorian Homes, you can assume your writer knows about house paints, color wheels, and the difference between a roller and a brush.
If in doubt, add notes and tips that point your readers to books that cover the basics. Tell them in the introduction where you’re starting. Or add some "as you already know, the best kind of paint for porch floors is..." It will inform those who aren’t quite up to the level you expect and won’t insult your more advanced readers.
Technical Writing
At once the most boring and the most valuable of the non-fiction genres, technical books are procedurals on steroids. Technical books don’t just run the reader through how to use something or make something, they go behind the scenes and explain how the pieces come together to make it all work. They don’t just tell you how to tell time, they tell you how to build the clock, and give you the history of timekeeping.
If you are writing a technical book, you had best be an absolute expert on your topic – and have either built the thing yourself or be able to walk out onto the factory floor and see it being built (which doesn’t always help as much as you expect, oddly enough.) Yes, there are technical writers who don’t actually write the code or create the engineering drawings or write the laws – and actually, these people are incredibly valuable to the documentation of a highly technical process. But these tech writers also have access to the programmers and the mechanical engineers and the lawmakers.
Now it may seem that I am avoiding the topic – and I suppose I am. I worked as a technical writer and editor in the aerospace industry, and it is a highly specialized field – and far beyond the scope of this series. Suffice it to say, if you’re thinking your book is a technical manual, dive into technical writing books, talk to other tech writers, and for goodness’ sake, do NOT forget to have the line technicians attach the back to the seat pan. Just sayin’. (Look, only one crash test dummy was harmed. And he had it coming. Get off my back, will ya?)
Next week, we’ll look at our next genre: Informational Non-Fiction - complete with examples from some of the masters.
Cheers!