Like many of my generation, I entered technical communication through the side door. In the spring of 1976,1 was completing a master's degree in English at Clemson University, and I was fairly certain that my future would be a doctorate in southern literature. I had been accepted into programs at Vanderbilt, Auburn, and the University of Tennessee, each of which had offered me teaching fellowships. I was leaning heavily toward Vanderbilt, a consequence of its seminal history in my field of study (The New Criticism, John Crowe Ransom, Allen Tate, Donald Davidson, Robert Penn Warren, etc.).
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