A Digital Evolution

Navigating Across Boundaries and Embracing Change

By Kristen Lare Flory

Introduction
This essay is an introspective review of my experience with technology and how it has
shaped and ultimately changed the way I write, communicate, and learn. I will briefly discuss my
former role in the periphery of digital media, how I gleaned enough skill to get by but didn’t truly
understand the technology, and how my future interaction with digital media may unfold. I see
this whole process as a personal evolution.
I begin this story spanning the years 1977 to about 1995 and focus on how digital media was
introduced to me in school and how I incorporated the available technology with my studies. In
1995, the same year the Internet emerged, I entered the work force. Suddenly, I found myself in a
research, writing, and editing position faced with a new technology that we were expected to use
but unsure about how to use it effectively. Finally, I conclude in fall 2004, looking back at nearly
a decade of Internet access and a host of other digital media. I will examine how the digital age
has transformed the way in which I communicate. How I once viewed anything technology
related with apprehension and now choose to embrace digital media not only as a tool of writing
but as necessary to an integrated-communications approach in both my social and professional
life.

Writing as a Chore

Writing never came naturally to me. I think I resisted it from the beginning. I learned to read
in preschool at the age of four, and I still love to read, but writing always seemed like a chore. I
remember the endless hours in elementary school practicing writing letters—first in blocky print,
then cursive—on that lined paper with the center row of dots. Single words were next, usually in
the form of a spelling test, followed closely by diagramming sentences. I was a good student, and
good grades were important to me. So, I made sure my penmanship was good and I committed
hundreds of word spellings to memory, because that is what I had to do to get an A in each
subject. At that time, this is what writing meant to me. I did not view it as creative or as a form of
communication. It was simply a necessary means to an end. That end being a good grade in the
subject of writing.
Writing journal entries was a regular feature in my seventh-grade English class. We could
write about anything we wanted. We started class each day with ten minutes of journal time.
These journals stayed in the classroom for the teacher to read whenever she wanted. The act of
writing in a journal—without subject-matter direction—really threw me. I didn’t know what to
do. Plus, my classmates seemingly took to this immediately, so I felt like there had to be
something really wrong with me.
It took me weeks before I could relax enough to allow any sort of creative discourse to occur.
But, once I did, it was easy and I started to really enjoy putting words on paper. My journal
became an extension of myself. I added fancy paper to it and found pens with interesting colored
inks. Sometimes I doodled in the margins. I started looking forward to English class, a subject I
previously only tolerated. In hindsight, I realize that my English teacher never graded us on our
journals. It was a tool to help us learn the art of writing—as writing, not regurgitation. I’m certain
it wasn’t stellar prose but it was totally different from anything labeled “writing” in prior years.
In 1985, I entered the eighth grade. Hand-written reports were no longer acceptable for
school. Pencils and pens were still the implements for daily school work, but long-term projects
and papers needed to be typed. My family did own a typewriter but it was a manual model that
my mother purchased during her college days in the late 60s. It had a sticky, two-toned ribbon
that often dried up or slacked on the reel, thus rendering the finished page messy and illegible. It
took hours to type a short paper. Luckily, my dad was finishing his master’s degree in the
evenings after work. Everything he turned in also needed to be typewritten, so he borrowed an
electric typewriter from the office and it resided on the kitchen table for the next four years.
I loved the idea of typing—it was quick and the electric typewriter had a correction button, so
erasing and white-out was not necessary. Finally, any flub of the finger could be fixed in an
instant. However, I didn’t know how to type. I certainly could not compose as I typed because the
act of typing was too much of a mental strain for me to also focus on sentence formation. So, I
began any writing project, whether it was for English or a science class, in the same way: first an
outline, then notes on index cards, then a hand-written draft. To organize the cards I sat on my
bedroom floor and constructed an elaborate ladder of thoughts, sentences, notes, and often
diagrams. Then, I could piece together my paper. When my draft was complete, one of my
parents would type the finished product for me. The physical act of writing was a very visual
process for me. If I skipped that step, I couldn’t compose anything longer than a letter in an
organized manner.
 Just Getting By

In 1986, my freshman year of high school, my mother insisted that I enroll in a typing class.
She rightly saw typing as a skill that anyone needed—especially me, because I’m sure she was
tired of typing my assignments. This began the “just get by” phase of my digital evolution. I
hated typing class. None of my other high-achieving classmates took this class. The room was
filled with rows and rows of avocado green, enormous electric typewriters. We spent an hour a
day for two weeks typing combinations of a-s-d-f. I stuck with it for about two months, which
coincided with the class learning all of the letters on the keyboard, and then I quit and switched to
an art class.
Eventually, I could accurately type about 40 words per minute, and I figured that would
suffice. I could type my papers, but as the level of my writing assignments increased, my juvenile
typing skills couldn’t keep up. I didn’t learn the numbers on the keyboard, how to set margins, or
how to handle superscript and footnotes. Being a visual person, I fudged it by manually adjusting
the keyboard to do what I needed it to do. I gleaned just enough proficiency from the only
available form of technology to get by. Besides, it didn’t really affect my writing. Writing to me
was still a visual process with a pen on paper. A typewriter was just a tool.
Other digital media, available during this time, was almost entirely absent in my home. We
didn’t have a microwave or a VCR (VHS) until 1987. Because we lived in a fairly rural area,
cable television was not available on our street until late 1988. We didn’t even have a cordless
telephone. It was possible that we couldn’t afford it, and I was just oblivious to that fact.
Whatever the reason, because it was absent, I deemed it unnecessary. Most of my friend’s fathers
were NASA engineers and physicists. Their homes were equipped with all kinds of gadgets and
electronic devices, but the kids knew these were off limits—adult stuff. Again, unnecessary for
the ways in which we interacted and communicated.
In 1989, as a high school graduation gift, my parents bought me a computer for college. It
was a Tandy from Radio Shack. I’m not positive, but I think it was from the 1000 series that ran
on MS-DOS. It had a monitor that sat on top of a hard drive the size of a small suitcase with
drives for two 5 ¼” disks. The keyboard was separate and there was no mouse. As a bonus, a dot
matrix printer and a huge box of fan-folded, track-feed paper were gifts from my grandparents. I
didn’t ask for this, and I was confused because I entered college as a music performance major. I
didn’t need a computer! What were they thinking? I had no idea how to use a computer, nor did
any member of my family. The manual made my eyes glaze over—I remember that the type was
gray and there were no graphics at all.
My friend’s older brother, a mechanical engineer, taught me how to format disks and to
access a word processing program right before I left for school. I was prepared. I could turn on
the computer, load my word processing program with a disk, type notes and papers, and save
everything on another disk. I had no concept of saving anything to the hard drive—it scared me
because I didn’t understand where or how the information was stored. There was no network, so I
got by, knowing just enough to make sure I could use the computer as a word processing tool.
This was what computer proficiency meant to me in the early 90s. The computer was a tool
separate from communicating and writing. Something I had to use, (hey, it was easier than a
typewriter) that would be part of society, but would not every really affect my daily life.
In fall 1991, I transferred to Michigan State University from James Madison University. This
was a huge step for me, as I moved to a completely unknown place four times the size of my
previous school. The lecture halls were gigantic compared to my 20-person classroom at JMU.
The instructors used projected notes on a screen, not a blackboard. They often wore microphones.
Everything seemed more technologically advanced to me. I set up my computer on the day I
moved in, and for the first time, started to use it for basic organization of my school work. I made
a calendar system—something I pieced together in a document, printed out, and stuck all over my
walls. I created diagrams of chemical cycles, without real graphics, just type. I printed them,
color-coded them with highlighters, and taped them to the ceiling above my loft so I could study
as I drifted off to sleep.
The way I was taking in and storing information was changing with the use of my computer. I
no longer outlined writing projects or took notes on index cards. I made digital study guides for
each exam from written notes. However, when writing a paper for an English class, I still reverted
to the long-hand approach and typed my edited product. I viewed writing for science as an
analysis of data or the reporting of facts. I didn’t view the writing I did for English as an analysis;
it was more the communication of my ideas. My computer was still a writing tool to me but it was
starting to become an organizational implement as well.
In 1993, two classes shy of a zoology degree, I changed my major. I decided that I wanted to
pursue an editorial career. For the first time in college, I began to enjoy my classes. I loved the
discourse present in an English class. I loved that people could have different ideas and they
weren’t wrong, just different. Writing completely changed for me. I started to notice how
compelling words and language could affect people. I began to use the computer for
brainstorming and as a word-processing tool. Because it recorded everything, I could run with
ideas and piece them together on the page as I wrote. In a matter of weeks, I could no longer sit at
a desk with a notebook and construct a paper. The computer became my preferred composition
tool.
If I had graduated in 1994 with my zoology degree, I would have missed the introduction to
the Internet and email entirely while at college. However, by the time the Internet came to MSU, I
was completing foreign language and English requirements, which did not lead me toward the
Internet. Freshmen were being introduced to this “new media” but not people toward the end of
their degree. MSU had the Gopher system in place before I graduated but I didn’t have a
computer that connected to any server so I never used it. I would have had to go to a computer lab
to use my email account and I had no reason to with a computer in my apartment already. No one
I knew “surfed” the Web or emailed each other, so I didn’t feel like I was missing out on
anything important. I graduated in 1995, still using my Tandy and 5 ¼” floppy disks.

My Twelve-Step Program

I entered the scholarly publishing world as a copyediting coordinator for the University of
Michigan Press in 1996. Every editor had a computer connected to a “shared” drive for the office
where we could store documents for public access. I received an email address with my employee
ID at orientation. I had never used email before. I was thrust into a digital environment that I had
no idea how to navigate. I was really intimidated. So were my co-workers, but it took me a few
weeks to realize that no one else around me knew how to use this new media either.
I had no reason to use the computer at work unless it was to write a letter or generate a
printing quote. For nearly two years, I worked with paper manuscripts and edited in color-coded
pencil: green for graphic coding, blue for editorial changes, red for author alterations, and purple
for graphic placement. (I actually still dream about marking up a manuscript using the wrong
colored pencil, but that’s another paper.) The graphic coordinator handled the production, which
was just beginning to make the transition from a manual to digital process. I touched, very lightly,
on the edges of print technology so I would know enough lingo and facts to make the vendors
think I knew what was going on. It was like memorizing the atomic chart—“print stages, a
twelve-step program.”
One of my routine duties was fact-checking manuscript sections that my acquisitions editor
identified. We had one computer per team that was connected to the Internet. Every team member
could check their email and surf the Web for work-related research. It was really slow. I can’t
recall which search engine we used, but it produced totally inappropriate and often useless
material. The server also crashed with regularity.
Email, on the other hand, was like candy to me. What a wonderful thing. I think email was
the first form of digital media that really changed the way I communicate. It improved my
keyboarding speed and accuracy. I could communicate with my authors, who were mainly on the
West coast, in a very efficient manner. We could send text changes back and forth, saving days of
production time. I reconnected with friends from college and high school. I could literally spend
hours just on email. Unlike the Internet, it was easy to use. The downside was I couldn’t get email
at home. It wasn’t available in my apartment complex, and my Tandy was no longer advanced
enough.
It was apparent that technology was a “must-have” thing for my office. No one really knew
what to do with it, but they knew they needed to have it. In late 1996, we printed our first book
with computer-to-plate technology. It was clear that digital media was streamlining the printing
process. And it all happened in what seemed like a whirlwind moment—that I missed somehow.
It made me nervous. I had always managed to get by, to glean little bits of technology in order to
do my work, but this seemed bigger. My vision of book editing no longer fit the atmosphere I was
in, and I didn’t like it. In addition, my coworkers were extremely resistant to technological
change. They wanted to preserve the “old way” of production. Because of this I was truly
concerned that launching a career in the book industry would be a dead end.
In the fall of 1997, I returned to East Lansing and went to work for the Michigan State
Medical Society as the managing editor of their monthly magazine. Magazine production was
very different from that of books. It was fast-paced and constantly changing and I took to it
immediately. Writing was no longer mundane. Now I was interviewing, researching, and shaping
the message of an entire publication. It was exciting. Editing became more interactive as well and
often involved recrafting a lead or rearranging sentences for greater impact. I wrote on a daily
basis and for the first time, entirely on a computer. I found that I typed faster than I could write,
so I recorded interviews and transcribed the tape on the computer.
Digital technology was further along with this industry in the late 90s, and the magazine was
prepared digitally and sent to the printer on zip disks. The advertisements, however, were still
manually placed with camera-ready art. I didn’t understand the graphic design or printing
process. When the editor retired and I was hired to take over, I quickly realized that I needed to
learn the production process intricately so I could properly manage the magazine staff and
budget. So, my “digital education” became very concentrated in the area of print production.
Within a year, I cut over $36,000 from my budget by streamlining the graphic and editorial
process. By 1999, I required all of our advertisers to produce digital ad files, or we would recreate
their file for them at their expense. After that, we could print the entire magazine computer-to-
plate, thus saving more money and a week of production time. My superiors, who didn’t really
understand this “new” technology, thought I was a genius. I felt triumphant—and in this one tiny
corner of digital media, I still do feel like I am on top of the latest technology, but it takes a great
deal of effort because it’s constantly evolving.

Embracing Technology

In the years that followed, I decided to move back to MSU, first to the College of Business
and finally, to University Relations in the Creative Services area. My duties as an editor haven’t
changed drastically, but my role has. As I mature in my career, I view communications in a
holistic way, incorporating print publications with digital media. More than a decade of editorial
experience has proven to me that an integrated approach to writing and communication is
absolutely essential to craft an effective message in today’s society. Digital technology has
shaped the way I communicate, both personally and professionally. I can no longer ignore, or be
intimidated by it. But, I have a great deal of catching up to do.
For most of my adult life, I avoided incorporating digital technology into everyday activities.
At first, it was for financial reasons—starting salary for editors is below the poverty line. A new
computer, an Internet connection, and a PDA were things I couldn’t afford. However, as my
finances improved, I still resisted getting connected. I had email and an Internet connection at
work, and that seemed like enough “connectivity” for me. I didn’t want to give up my privacy,
and I thought that being available and reachable at all times, whether it was via email or cell
phone, was not necessary. I never saw how staying connected could actually improve
communication and allow me to be more efficient with my time.
Now that I have a home Internet connection and a cell phone, I find the act of communication
less stressful and more efficient. I stay in touch with friends and family more regularly and our
interaction is very personal. Email has become such a mainstay in our lives that distance no
longer seems like a barrier. At work, it’s equally important, and hard to imagine what the office
was like before email existed. I can communicate directly with a client across campus, or deliver
a file to a printer in Traverse City without leaving my office. With the connection to the server, I
can art-direct a photo shoot without leaving my desk and press-check a publication from any
remote location. It’s fascinating.
 My writing has become multifaceted as I embrace more elements of digital media. It’s not
just about learning how to use the media available but now writing becomes a living thing within
that media. I don’t think simply about flat words on a page any longer. I can visualize how
writing can grow to fit into digital spaces and how those words can reach readers differently as
those spaces change. I feel that digital media has allowed the written word to become more
powerful and fluid. And, I have a desire to learn how to make my writing malleable to each
individual space.
At work, I see the integration of Web development and editorial/publications as an exciting
possibility and hope to gain enough knowledge to help bring that to fruition. At present, the two
units reside in different locations under separate management. There is literally no collaboration
on projects. I see this as a serious deficiency. Text development is not a part of the Web
development in my office. It is my goal to suggest that a more integrated approach to Web and
publication development is necessary. As our office is in a transition period, it would be a perfect
time to affect this change. In order to help foster this relationship, I need to develop a better
understanding of writing for digital spaces.
This transformation in thinking is very recent for me. I think the readings, assignments, and
discussions from our class have really helped me analyze my feelings about digital media and get
over some of my apprehension. It’s a scary thing to rely so much on something you don’t
understand, but I am ready to find a way to make technology work for me. Until recently, I stayed
in the periphery of digital media. I gleaned just enough information to get by in society and at
work but not enough to understand the technology or have it deeply connected to my life. I’m
ready to embrace digital media so I can shape my writing and communication practices as
technology evolves. I am excited to see what the next decade has to offer.