How to write a tech book, or how I stopped worrying and learned to love writing

I just sent in the last chapter of Learning Spring Boot 2nd Edition’s 1st draft. And my brain has collapsed. I’ve been working for several months on this 10-chapter book that embraces Spring Boot 2.0 and reactive programming. There are several books out there on reactive programming, but I believe this will be the first to hit the market about Project Reactor.

I’m not done, not by a long shot. I told my publisher that we’d need at least one big round to make updates to ALL the code, because I started writing when not everything was in place. And it’s still true. But editing, polishing, and updating an existing repository of code and manuscript is easier than creating one out of thin air.

I wanted to write just a little bit about how I approaching writing something like this. Maybe you have been thinking about writing a book yourself, and your curious what goes on. This isn’t the only, but it’s the way that works for me.


Laptop on a work table with DIY and construction tools all around top view hobby and crafts concept

To write a book, you need a mechanism to capture prose and code. For fiction, I use Scrivener, but when it comes to technical writing, where the code, screenshots, and text are tightly integrated, I use Asciidoctor. With Asciidoctor, the overhead of a word processor is removed, and instead I can focus on pure content.

Also, using Asciidoctor lets me pull in the code to generate the manuscript sent in to my publisher. This way, I have Sublime Text in one window viewing the source prose and IntelliJ open in another viewing the source code. To top it off, I have a Ruby guardfile configure to constantly regenerate an HTML proof of the chapter I’m writing with it refreshing via LiveReload in my browser.

This combination gives me a quick feedback loop as I write.

What to write

This may be the biggest hurdle to some. When you’ve picked the technology, setup your tools, and finally have the editor opened up, what do you type in that black, blank screen?

Waiting for magical words to arrive? Or perhaps you hope elves will scurry in and leave something? Nope. This is where the rubber hits the proverbial road and you have to push yourself to start typing.

What do I do? I actually start earlier than that. From time to time, I have a crazy idea about something I want to show to an audience at a conference. Some demo I want to give with a few pieces of the Spring portfolio. I began to noodle out code to make that happen. Once, I asked “can I snap a picture of the audience and upload it from my phone to a webpage the audience is watching on the overhead?” Thus was born my Spring-a-Gram demo.

That demo has morphed many times to the point that I have built a full blown, cloud native, microservice-based system. And guess what. It’s the system we get to explore in Learning Spring Boot 2nd Edition.

So when I sit down to write a chapter, I first start writing the code I want to walk through. Once it’s humming inside my IDE, I start to typeset it in Asciidoctor. And pages of code fragments, I began to tell a story.

Weaving a story

When writing technical articles, getting started guides, and books, everything is still a story. Even if this isn’t a novel, it’s still a story. People that grant you the honor of reading your work want to be entertained. When it comes to tech work, they want the ooh’s and ahh’s. They want to walk away saying, “That was cool. I could use that right now.”

At least, that’s how I read things. So my goal when I write is to make it fun for me. If it’s fun for me, I trust it will be fun for others.

If I sift through a chapter, and it’s just a boring dump of code, then it’s sad. And that’s not what I want. I can’t promise that all my writing has upheld this lofty goal. But it’s my goal nonetheless.

So oftentimes, I will typeset the code, hand some descriptive details around the code, then read it again, top to bottom, and add extra stuff. Paragraphs talking about why we’re doing this. Mentioning tradeoffs. Issues that maybe exist today and where we have to make a choice. Ultimately, understand not just what the code does but why it does it this way. And what other options are out there.

Letting go

At some point, after all the writing and polishing and fine tuning, you have to turn in your work. I don’t know if there is ever a time where I’m 100% satisfied. I’m kind of picky. But the truth is – you’ll never find every typo, every bug.

My code fidelity is much higher ever since I started using Asciidoctor. But stuff happens. And you have to be happy turning in your work.

You see, if you’ve acquired enough skill to sit down a write a book without someone leaning over your shoulder and coaching you, you might have a lot of good value other developers seek. Eager coders will be able to read what you wrote, look past small mistakes, and most importantly, grok the points you make. That’s what is key.

And one thing is for certain – writing makes you better. I have found that any gaps in my own understanding of certain parts of code lead me to chase down and grasp those bits. And then I want to share them with others. Which is what writing books is all about.

Happy writing!

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