By Cristopher D. Broyles
Introduction and Question
In technical communication, one of the overarching aims is to improve user experience—whether it’s through the use of plain language in a publication to make it easier to read or a website that has undergone usability testing to ensure improved navigation. A similar theme of understanding and designing for an envisioned user/audience is also seen in rhetorical theory. Many of Aristotle’s ideas, for example, were tied to an envisioned audience and the envisioned effect that an utterance would have on that audience: logos, pathos, ethos, and kairos. In both fields, understanding audience and designing with audience in mind is foundational.
One question not addressed so clearly in the literature is what to do when user experience differs—specifically, when user experiences are in conflict with another. What do designers do? Whose user experience takes priority? I submit the following for consideration: the answer depends on the nature of the conflicting user experience—is it the designer’s user experience vs. the end-user’s user experience or is it one end-user’s user experience vs. another end-user’s user experience? In either case, I believe that there are solutions that technical communicators and rhetoricians can borrow from film makers.
Designer’s User Experience vs. End-User’s User Experience
In thinking about how much work goes into a film, whether it’s composing a musical score, writing dialogue, developing special effects or computer-generated imagery, the hours spent in a make-up chair, or the overall burgeoning budgets of film production, it would seem there is a clear priority for the end-user’s experience over the user experiences of those involved in the film’s production. By this, for example, consider the following two actors: Robert Englund, who played Freddy Krueger in the enormously successful Nightmare on Elm Street franchise (not inclusive of the recent film-series reboot) and Michael Dorn, who played Commander Worf in the iconic Star Trek franchise. I doubt that they liked sitting still for hours on end each day of shooting while their make-up and prosthetics were applied. Or, how many late nights did James Cameron spend writing, editing, and tweaking particular scenes in Avatar? And Lord of the Rings, for example, required the actors to travel all the way to New Zealand in order to find an appropriate backdrop for the film series—separating them from friends and family for the sake of their art. In fact, it’s rumored that the filming location is one of the reasons that Sean Connery turned down the role of Gandalf. My point is that although individuals in film are usually well compensated for their work, their user experience in making the film often involves extreme trials because the success of the end product, as measured by the envisioned audience reception, takes precedence over individual user experiences of those involved with the production.
End-User’s User Experience vs. Another End-User’s User Experience
Sometimes film designers cannot fully agree on what will make for the best end-user experience, and, as a consequence, they do "alternative cuts" or "alternative endings" for a film, or allow for the inclusion of "deleted scenes" on the film’s Blu-Ray release. Independence Day, for example, which was the first DVD I ever purchased, has at least two available cuts: the theatrical release and the special edition. The original Halloween II had at least two cuts, the original release and the extended release for television. Halloween 6, too, had at least two available cuts. The Motion Picture Association of America’s age restrictions/rating guidelines and cultural values are part of this consideration process. For example, nudity can be an issue that results in multiple versions of a film. The European version of the film Powder has more nudity than the U.S. version because film nudity is more accepted in Europe. Thus, when there are multiple audiences that cannot be reconciled into one definitive cut, the film-based answer seems to be to release multiple cuts/versions of the film. And, moreover, the time taken to produce those different releases and cuts for a single film iterate my first point—the envisioned end-user user experience takes precedence over the user experience of the designers.
Conclusion
Thus, if you take those two film-inspired points to heart—(a) the privilege of the end-user user experience over the designer’s user experience and (b) releasing different versions of a single film to accommodate different audiences—the question becomes, "How can technical communicators and rhetoricians translate those lessons learned from film production into usable practice and theory when developing a publication?" In response to that query, I share the following:
- When producing a publication, be prepared to put the time in: The sacrifices you make of your own time for detail, accuracy, clarity, depth, and authenticity through drafting, revising, and editing (i.e., the more knocks you take to your own user experience in the process), the more likely it is that your end product will foster an improved user experience on the part of the audience. In other words, you must place the envisioned audience first above your own personal trials and challenges in the publication process.
- If you identify multiple audiences for a single publication, look for ways to reach all those audiences through that single publication. This might be through annotations, speaker notes, or, in the case of audiences with disabilities, including features like alternative text and captioning. And, in situations where multiple audiences cannot be accommodated through a single publication, consider dividing the publication into multiple versions: abridged vs. unabridged; entry-level, intermediate, and advanced (which works well for training-type publications). Again place the envisioned audience first in terms of the content and design of the publication.
Although I openly acknowledge that my treatment in this article about audience has not been academic, I do not believe that it detracts from the relevance and importance of the lessons that can be borrowed from film makers. My conclusions shared here are merely my perceptions of what I have observed in film and film production processes that I, as a technical communicator, can borrow and integrate into my own theory and practice. Importantly, the two themes I shared here parallel a central theme in both technical communication and rhetoric: let the envisioned audience influence your writing in a meaningful and conscious way.
Cristopher Broyles is a doctoral candidate in technical communication and rhetoric at Texas Tech University. His research focuses on improving text-equivalent descriptions (i.e., descriptions written for blind and low-vision audiences) through the application of user-center design, rhetorical analysis, and genre theory. Prior publications include multiple governmental publications on Section 508 compliance and a journal publication on simplifying language use in the sciences to accommodate larger audiences. Broyles has been a part-time writing instructor at the postsecondary level for over 10 years, a technical editor for 7 years, and he is currently the project manager of a Section 508 compliance team for a government agency in Washington, DC.
