In the annals of the written word, few can match the improbable journey of Doug May from Granite City steelworker to ink-stained wretch.

Moreover, by leveraging the editorship of a trade union newsletter into a full-time writing gig, May has gamed a system that has beaten down many a journalism school graduate over the past 10 years.

Don't believe it?

Ask a journalism or English major the next time he or she takes your order for super-sized fries.

May, for the record, has never studied journalism.

Nor, for that matter, has he enrolled in more than a handful of college classes since punching the clock at the Granite City steel mill shortly after graduating from Edwardsville High School in 1973.

May never did shed his distaste for the rotating shift work that interrupts the sleep patterns and routines of plant workers.

Often, especially at the beginning, the peripatetic schedule fueled a dream of leaving the mill to pursue a degree.

"Then I became a father and it sort of changed my career path," he says.

And nearly 30 years would pass before May composed a sentence much longer than a Twitter feed.

The fallow creativity began to sprout in a way May could never have imagined after U.S. Steel acquired bankrupt National Steel's Granite City operations in 2003.

In an effort to keep workers abreast of developments stemming from the ownership change, United Steelworkers Local 1899 turned to May and asked that he take the helm of the union's newsletter.

And an ember that had smoldered inside May his entire adult life suddenly burst into flame.

Before long, the Mettle Post had an edgy attitude that lived up to a new name chosen by May to reflect the 'strength" of the publication.

The Mettle Post, to be sure, was never a typical newsletter.

In a departure from the stenography that masquerades as news in most house publications, May — while continuing to work regular shifts at the mill — went out of his way to pen interview-driven articles and commentary.

He says the newsletter's passion initially reflected the "frustration and anger" of a longtime employee who watched helplessly as National Steel almost "pulled the rug out from under me."

Through the years, though, the scope expanded into broader, more complex topics.

The impact of foreign-made steel on domestic production, U.S. trade policy, factory safety, the decline of American manufacturing and other issues that have transformed the steelworkers from laborers into a political force began to dominate the editorial content.

Nor did May hesitate to bite the hand that fed him.

"We understand that the conditions of our employment require that we comply and consistently conform to the mandates of a drug-free workplace," he wrote earlier this year. "Nobody expects an employer to coddle a reckless employee who is a repeat offender. Nobody would tolerate working around a boozed-up or mind-altered heavy equipment operator. But as an advanced society is it too much to ask people on the corporate level to display a human side? ... Can we be partners in assisting someone who may need help when that same person has proven himself over the years as a partner, a reliable and efficient employee?"

May took special pleasure in skewering U.S. Rep. John Shimkus, R-Ill., who became known to Mettle Post readers as "The Fool on the Hill."

The more May wrote, the clearer it became to him and others "that I have a knack for this."

The reason, as anyone familiar with the craft of writing can attest, can be traced to a lifelong affinity for books by an avid reader.

Beyond the praise of readers, there were other signs May had arrived as a writer.

Such as multiple citations for excellence in editorial and column writing from the United Steelworkers Press Association.

And the copy of the paper pinned to a mill bulletin board — "LIBERAL RAG" emblazoned in red marker across its front page.

A few months ago, the recognition moved to a new level.

May spotted the posting for a position in the communications department at the United Steelworkers headquarters in Pittsburgh even before higher-ups there started pushing him to apply for the job.

Still, six weeks passed before he filed an application.

At the age of 56, May had never before put together a résumé.

"It felt kind of funny writing about myself," he said of the experience.

On Feb. 10, Doug May punched the clock at Granite City Works for the last time. He had worked there 38 years.

Earlier this week, May and his wife headed to Pittsburgh for what he calls a "trial" to determine if they can live somewhere other than Metro East for the first time in their lives.

May departed with trepidation and, good writer that he is, a message:

"By and large these are good jobs that did not come neatly wrapped as a gift from U.S. Steel," he wrote in his valediction.

"These are jobs that should be protected, and not treated as a never-ending, indestructible entitlement. Some may not value them as much as others, but everyone should respect the history, the evolution behind them all."