They give it to the next-in-line saying, "Here's my report." The next-in-line rewrites it and sends it on. They spend two days ensuring it is as perfect as they can get it. The new auditor writes their first report. One of the great lessons I received in report writing came from report writing expert Sally Cutler.
Final draft pro voices full#
And so, we write drafts of the report knowing full well that any necessary changes will be caught in the review. (And while we are at it, what about the strangely titled "final draft." How is it final if it is still a draft? And when is that magical moment when the report it is no longer a draft and become a **FINAL** report? Apologies, but capitalization and asterisks were all I had at hand to replicate the hats, horns, fireworks, and general celebration that occurs when a report passes through the Valgrind Gates of finality.)Īnd the bigger problem is that the constant rewrites and edits each of us provide in every step of the report writing process has built into our species (Internalus Auditus) an understanding that, not only will there be a safety net, but the safety net will have a safety net, and that safety net will have a safety net, and that one, and that one, and that one, to infinity and beyond. If it is called a draft, then the implication is that it requires additional work - that it is imperfect. In fact, the word "draft" contains its own underlying message. Of course, our word choice does not help. In fact, what are any of us doing the first time we see the draft of a report? Why is it we manage to find fault every, single time? Were those drafts actually bad? Did I add any value? What was I doing? I can't think of a single draft (first, second, two-hundred-and-twelfth) that, if it was my first time seeing it, I didn't have some changes or comments.
And if the first draft is not bad, why does every single person who touches it make changes? And I'm right there with you.
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