Always percolating below the surface of biomedical science is the ever-important quest to distinguish ourselves and our research through the art of publishing. Inevitably our efforts lead us to the same gateway: passing muster with the dreaded Reviewer, who lurks in the shadow world of anonymity. Fans of Lord of the Rings might compare navigating peer review to Frodo and company attempting the Redhorn Pass that ostensibly provided courageous middle-earthers a way over the treacherous peaks of Caradhras – with the caveat that peer review is much harder. After all, traversing the sheer slopes of a frozen mountain is good honest danger, the kind that advertises itself well ahead of time and therefore is unambiguous. Peer review is anything but. The process is fraught with ambiguity. You never really know who will review your paper. Even if you did, you cannot gauge their frame of mind when they accept the assignment or finally sit down to review what took you weeks and months to prepare.  So, we try to stack the deck in our favor the best we can. We demonstrate fervor for things like rigor, reproducibility, readability, and grasping the literature of the day. We practice staying on message (difficult for those of us who are perpetually over-caffeinated) and writing clearly and succinctly (difficult for everybody, with or without caffeine). Well, so far so good. A seasoned reviewer is used to forgiving honest mistakes – things like forgetting a citation, abusing the use of commas, or sticking a p-value in the middle of a sentence. No harm, no foul, and we move on together.

There are other tendencies or practices, however, that are a little less forgiving and apt to cause trouble for intrepid investigators trying to make it to print. When I edit a paper for a colleague or mentee, what gets caught in my gizzard every time are the unnecessary, unforced errors – the kind that people walk into willingly. These include the category of what I like to call “chest thumping”:  a form of self-assertion that makes a paper less about the science and more about the scientists. Sometimes, in the attempt to distinguish our work or emphasize our innovative ideas, we step into certain human traps, the kind that ornery reviewers are keen to monitor.  Here are some examples:

“In our paper, we show for the first time that A leads to B”

“No one has investigated whether A leads to B, and we do so here for the first time”

“Our approach is the first to use A to show B”

… and so on. Here’s the problem. Claiming to be either first or better in science is always tainted with at least a hint of subjectivity, especially when you’re trying to climb the proverbial ladder. Also, to state the ridiculously obvious, you don’t know what you don’t know. Don’t kid yourself – everything is open to interpretation. Chances are whatever you did, someone did a version of it before you. Murphy’s law mandates that this someone (or perhaps their mentor or protégé) will be your reviewer. At best, you might have gotten the facts wrong. At worst, you got the facts wrong and insulted the reviewer. The point is, neither is necessary – this is what we mean by “unforced errors”.  If indeed the approach and findings are novel and important, the experts whose respect and attention you want will recognize your achievement. No need to tout yourself and risk alienating an otherwise benign reviewer. Finally, if in fact you have done something better or improved upon a method, people will adopt your approach and cite your work, including those whose methods you improved.  This is a far bigger compliment than you could ever give yourself.  By the way, working in the perfunctory and now cliché “to our knowledge” disclaimer doesn’t really help. Everyone assumes you have the latest, greatest knowledge before you write the paper. No need to draw attention to the possibility that you might not.

Why am I making such a fuss? Regardless of who did what, rigorous, novel, and innovative results speak for themselves and stand the test of time – and will define the cutting edge until a more sensitive approach comes along. That’s part of the game we play. By staying in the background and letting your results stand on their own, you reduce the chances of inciting the reviewer’s personal ire and giving them the opportunity to bring you down a couple of notches. Consistent with the theme of these musings, consider avoiding statements like:

“Dr. X showed A while Dr. Y showed B.”

“Dr. X and Dr. Y showed A, Dr. Z showed B, and Drs. X, Y, and Z showed C.”

You see the trend? The writing becomes burdensome very quickly, trying to layer in who did what.  What stands out is the litany of names and dates, not the important facts.  Though this kind of citation is well-intentioned, once again you are bound to leave someone out, thus bruising egos and hurting your chances for a quick acceptance.  I urge my trainees and colleagues simply to state the facts with appropriate citations:

“A leads to B (X et al., 2010; Y et al., 2015,), while B leads to C (Z et al., 2020).”

When you arrive at the discussion of your paper, your contribution will flow that much more easily from prior work:

“A leads to B (X et al., 2010), while our results indicate C and D.”

In this context, there is absolutely nothing wrong with using “our results” because you are simply drawing attention to the current presentation – not tooting your own horn.

Look, writing papers is hard work, just like the science that goes into them. As new information piles up daily around us, ironically what we can be certain of becomes harder to discern. By keeping your referencing impersonal, you minimize the risk of losing your message in needless offense while emphasizing what is most important – namely, that A leads to B.

Further reading/listening:

Don’t Wait Until You’re Motivated to Write. Take Small Actions!

Writing Science in Plain English: Clarity Rules

The Write Rules

Like one of my earlier posts, the musings below were inspired by a tweet. Sara, a PhD student, asked, “Anyone with tips on how to stay motivated while writing your dissertation?!“

Anyone who has ever written a manuscript, funding application or PhD thesis knows that writing is as much about motivation and persistence as writing skills or subject-specific knowledge!

The tweet reminded me of the advice I got from a writing coach when I was writing up my PhD thesis. “Action leads to motivation leads to action.” I heard these words 10 years ago, but they still ring true to me! With writing, like with many other things in life, we often wait until we feel motivated or even inspired. I would probably not write any funding applications and fewer manuscripts if I did that.

What does “action leads to motivation leads to action” mean in practice? To me, it means forgetting about the bigger objective and focusing on a tiny piece of work to get into action. For example, I am writing this post at an airport lounge on a Sunday at 7 am. I have a 5-hour flight ahead of me and want to work on a manuscript. Currently, this future manuscript is just a 1-page document with notes and dot points. The thought of turning this into an entire manuscript feels overwhelming. Motivation is at subzero. I try to forget about the manuscript and find a tiny and accessible piece of writing I can focus on—for example, the method section. I also find that focusing on other people’s work helps me forget my manuscript, so I start by writing a short paragraph summarising a paper. Another way to trick my brain into writing action is to work on a graph or plot. This often gets me thinking about my data, and then the activation energy to write a small paragraph about the data is much lower.

In my experience, once I get going, my brain kicks into gear, and I start coming up with ideas for other sections or start thinking about how the different parts of the data or story relate to each other. Action leads to motivation leads to action!

What if you can’t get a sentence on paper even if you focus on a tiny piece? Try free-flow writing. In my other post on writing, I mentioned how this writing tool helps me organise my thoughts and ideas, but it also works well for those days when you can’t find the motivation to get started.

I hear you say, “What if you still can’t get going?” That’s ok. Some days are just not meant for writing. Be kind to yourself, or as my yoga/meditation teacher says, “Be ok with what is.” There are other ways you can progress on a manuscript, funding application or thesis chapter. Work on your figures and clean up the references.

So, take some (small) action. Maybe forgetting about that manuscript is the best way to get that manuscript written 🙂

More Resources:

5 Things That Help Me Write
Dot Journal Your Way to Productivity
Tools for Making Progress in Academic Life

Many scientific authors think that effective writing is based on a set of rules, such as proper grammar or word usage. But writing well is not simply about following rules. Writing well is about using a collection of skills and principles to write in a way that engages and informs readers.

Although many principles influence scientific writing, they are all led by one guiding principle: make the reader’s job easy.

This principle might sound simple. But making the reader’s job easy is hard. You need to craft a compelling story that engages readers. You need to select relevant content and structure it in a way that supports the story. You need to use clear language that your audience can easily understand. And you need to do all these things while ensuring the accuracy and integrity of the science. This is hard work.

What can you do to make your job easier?

Consider your audience

One important thing you can do is consider your audience. And not only who you think will read your work but also who you want to read your work. In a world with growing interdisciplinary research and declining scientific literacy, we need to write in a way that reaches a broader audience.

Keep it simple

Aim for simplicity in your writing. Write like you are talking to a stranger in an elevator. Break down complex ideas and apply plain language principles. Simplifying concepts and text is not about dumbing down ideas or language. It’s about communicating clearly and effectively.

Seek feedback

Enlist help with your writing. We all face the curse of knowledge—unknowingly assuming that our readers know what we know. In this way, we might unintentionally leave out information that is important for readers to understand. By working with a professional editor, asking colleagues to review your writing, or even asking friends and family to read your work, you can ensure that your writing is easy to understand.

Get training

Most scientific authors have had little—or even no—formal training in writing. But to write well, you need skills to help you get control of your writing. Read books on writing, everything from classic books that cover the fundamentals to books written specifically for scientific authors. Work with a writing coach. Participate in classes and workshops. Attend seminars. Take advantage of every opportunity you can to learn.

Commit to practicing

As you learn new skills, commit to practicing them. If you learn several things at once, pick one skill to focus on for a few weeks, and then pick another skill to practice for a few weeks. Only through diligent practice can you change your habits to improve your writing.

During the process, remember to be patient with yourself. Writing well takes time and effort. But small changes over time lead to big results.

The author offers editing, training, and coaching in scientific writing.

More Resources

A Lesson Learned the Hard Way

Avoiding Barriers Between Your Work and Your Reviewer

Friendly Advice from Your NIH Grant Reviewer

While helping a brilliant scientist revise her abstract to a 10th grade reading level for a foundation award application, I wrote down some tips for converting writing intended for audiences with a scientific background to readers with less formal education:

Smaller words. Half of that Flesch-Kincaid reading score in MS Word comes from counting syllables per word. Longer words make the grade level go up. Try replacing “adipose tissue” with “fat,” or “pulmonary” with “lung.” Less drastic replacements, if done often, help too: “frequently” can change to “often,” or “protracted” to “long.” Disclaimer: If the distinction between a word and its shorter synonym is critical, of course keep using it. All “small” things are not “microscopic,” after all.

Shorter sentences. Sentence length makes up the other half of the Flesch-Kincaid score. Look for places to insert periods, such as commas, semicolons, and “but” or “and.” Keep to one idea per sentence. Avoid passive voice, and write most sentences in subject-verb order.

Only essentials. Adjectives and adverbs are no longer your friends. Delete them unless truly necessary, as with a phrase like “the mTOR-knockout mice displayed more muscle atrophy than wild-type mice.” If you’re trying to stay under a word limit, this also condenses your text.

Watch jargon and complex phrasing. “Mechanism” is so common in science we don’t notice it, but lay audiences will. While they aren’t that different in length, “define the mechanism by which x does y” is harder to read than “understand the reason x does y.”

Abstracts pegged to graded reading levels aren’t common, but the need to communicate your science to non-scientists is, especially as social media lets scientists share their work with more readers. Use these rules to make your lay writing more readable and appealing.

More Resources

Flesch-Kincaid Score Calculator

Using Readibility Statistics to Enhance the “Reading Ease” of Your Proposal or Manuscript

Ways to Lower the Reading Level

Five Writing Tips for a Low Reading Level Audience

Have you ever had a high-tech remote control that has multiple features but you only use the off and on button? Or a computer application like Excel (guilty) that can perform many functions and you only use it for addition? Using words and sentences can be akin to using that complicated remote. You can either scratch the surface, or you can take advantage of all the tools language has to offer. Wait a minute, you say, I already had high school/college English and I’m not going back. I get it, and if you were an English major you can skip this post. However, for the rest, take a deep breath and read on. Like me, you may have forgotten some of the basics that can make a big difference when explaining complicated ideas in limited space to those unfamiliar with your work.

Think of your writing as forging a path for your intrepid but weary reader/reviewer. If words are cobblestones, then sentences are the way the stones are put together so that one can walk through the forest without getting lost. Ok, maybe not the best analogy because I’ve never seen cobblestones in a forest. Anyway, you get the point. Connecting the next sentence to the prior one creates a sense of flow which makes your work easier to read. This sense of flow is particularly important, and perhaps the most difficult, in the first paragraph of your Specific Aims page, where you are taking the reader from a big picture problem down to your smaller, more focused problem in the matter of a few sentences.

How do we create a sense of connection? We create connection by reaching back and “grabbing” a word or concept in the prior sentence. What we grab and where we grab it from depends on what you want to emphasize in the sentence, which brings us to the idea of topic and stress. Every sentence has a topic and a stress. The topic is at the beginning of the sentence and represents the “old” information that the reader knows about. The stress is at the end, which is the new information or what is emphasized in that sentence. What happens in the middle of the sentence? Unlike an Oreo cookie, the middle gets the least emphasis. Roy Peter Clark, in his book Writing Tools, calls this the 2-3-1 rule. The stress position gets the most emphasis, topic second, and middle the least. This concept is what makes the path and helps you know what to grab. Let’s look at this with a couple sentences.

Emily was browsing in a bookstore having a sale.

Emily was checking out a sale in a bookstore.

When you read these two sentences, where is the emphasis? In the first sentence, you focus on the sale. It’s nice that Emily is in a bookstore, but everyone loves a bargain, right? The wording suggests she is only in the bookstore because of the sale. In the second sentence, the emphasis is on the store. The store gains importance here, and in this case you get the impression that Emily likes books, and that the sale was encouragement to go into a store that she already shops in. The store is more important than the sale. Now that I’ve got you on the edge of your seats, wondering what happens next, let’s take Emily’s venture a little further.

Emily was browsing in a bookstore having a huge sale. Even though the store was crowded, she managed to find a great book on armadillos.

Emily was browsing in a bookstore having a huge sale. She found a great book on armadillos, even though the store was crowded.

In the first example, the topic of the “crowded store” reaches back and grabs the stress idea “sale”. When you grab the idea from the prior sentence, the words don’t have to be identical. I modified “sale” with the adjective “huge” to help connect the topic of the crowded store to the stress element “sale” in the prior sentence. Let’s look at the stress idea. Here’s a shocker – Emily is an armadillo fan. Who knew?

In the second example, the topic “she” in the second sentence grabs the topic “Emily” from the first sentence. The armadillos, I’m sad to say, get buried in the crowded store. Besides changing the emphasis, the second two sentences read a little choppier than the first. This is how you create (or disrupt) flow.

You don’t always have to reach back and grab the stress concept, and there will be times when you don’t want to do this. For example, let’s say you’re comparing two different cookies.

Chocolate chip cookies are crispy on the outside and gooey on the inside. They are made using chocolate chips, nuts, and flour. Peanut butter cookies are crispy on the outside but crumbly on the inside. They are made using peanut butter and flour.

When comparing two items, parallel sentence structure can come in handy. It can be easier to read because the parallel sentences predict where you are putting the comparisons.  In the case of parallel sentences, the second sentence reaches back and grabs the topic from the first one.

Here’s an example of the same information, but without parallel sentence structure.

Chocolate chip cookies are crispy on the outside and gooey on the inside. Chocolate chips, nuts, and flour go into making them. Peanut butter cookies are made using peanut butter and flour. They are crispy on the outside and crumbly on the inside.

In this case the comparisons are harder to sort out. It may seem boring to read essentially the same sentence twice, but it depends on your intent. If you are comparing two fairly complicated ideas, parallel structure will ensure the comparisons come across clearly even though the sentences are repetitive.

Notice that in both examples the topic “peanut butter cookies” doesn’t go back and grab a concept from the prior sentence. That’s ok as long as both sentences relate to the topic of your paragraph. A big part of creating a path for the reviewer is making sure that the sentences in your paragraph relate back to the topic in the first sentence. When you need to change topics, make a new paragraph. To maintain flow, the topic sentence of your next paragraph should reach back and grab an idea from the last sentence of the prior paragraph. One way to check your flow is to skim through the beginning of each sentence and see if the ideas go together. To check your paragraphs, read the first and last sentence and make sure you’re still talking about the same thing. If your first sentence is about how to clip dog nails and the last sentence is about orchids, you might have a problem.

Tools to create emphasis and flow can, of course, be applied to any type of writing. For example, I recently applied the 2-3-1 concept  when helping my son write an email to a graduate school regarding some application materials. This school is his first choice, and I thought he could mention this in a subtle way. How? You guessed it, we put that idea in the middle of a sentence. The jury is still out on his acceptance, but I think it conveyed the idea without being over the top.

I realize that this is English 101, but in the hustle and bustle of problematic experiments, annual protocol renewals, teaching, clinical obligations, committee meetings, etc. the basics we learned in high school sometimes go out the window when rushing to meet a grant deadline. Taking the time to use the tools of language and write with intention will serve both you and your reader well. And now, time to find my remote control…

Further Reading

Writing Tools: 55 Essential Strategies for Every Writer, by Peter Clark – great for writing advice in small doses, one tip at a time

Writing Science: How to Write Papers that Get Cited and Proposals That Get Funded, by Joshua Schimel – simply the best on this subject

The Write Rules
Three (Grant) Peeves in a Pod: Write Better

I remember a seminar that I organized when I was a postdoc. The speaker was a science communicator with a PhD in biomedical science, who also had published a novel. She started the seminar by asking the audience “Who considers themselves a writer?” A few hands went up. Next, she asked, “How many of you have published three or more papers?” A lot of hands went up. She smiled and said, “Well, like it or not, you are a writer.”

Writing is an integral part of academic life, yet many academics struggle with it. In this article, I reflect on what helps me write. Even if my approaches don’t fit with your academic life or writing personality, I hope it encourages you to reflect on your own writing. If you supervise postgraduate students or staff, maybe this article can start a discussion on writing routines.

1. Not all writing tasks are created equal

In my experience, people are most effective when they are in the right environment that supports the task at hand. The same applies to writing. How, when and where do you write most effectively? Thirty minutes every morning or in a three-day writing marathon? Early mornings in a silent library or afternoons in a buzzing café? Academic life comes with a lot of freedom. Use it to experiment with different routines and environments to find out what works for you.

I am a process-driven person, so I think of writing as a collection of different tasks. Each of them requires varying levels of concentration and creative thought, and thus different settings. Over the years, I’ve noted that the biggest frustration with writing often happens when I try to do a task in a setting that is not suitable.

The first task is the most demanding one: Writing new material. This includes a funding application for a new project or a first-author manuscript where I have to start from the dreaded empty page. For this type of writing, I am most effective if I can put aside at least half a day, or even a few days. I hide from the world and immerse myself in the material. If I can’t afford such luxury, I make sure that I set aside at least two hours in the morning before I start any other work. If I write an article like this, I love sitting in my favorite book café.

The second task is editing existing material. This includes re-arranging entire paragraphs or editing to improve clarity. For this, I still prefer to get away from my desk and hide in a meeting room or the library, even if I only have 30 minutes.

The third task is the least demanding to me, and involves the more technical aspects of writing such as editing citations or formatting to journal requirements. This I can do between other work tasks and even deal with a certain level of disruption.

2. Find tools that work for you

During my PhD, I had the privilege of attending two writing retreats, where a professional writing coach taught us different writing exercises. Some of them I still use today.

The first one is free-flow writing. There are different variations, but the most crucial part is that you keep writing. Set the timer to 15 or 20 minutes and start with a blank page. Then write without editing or stopping. If you don’t know what to write, write “blah blah blah” or “I don’t know what to write and why am I doing this anyway…” But don’t stop writing. In my experience, your thoughts start organizing themselves. If you find yourself using the backspace button, switch off the screen or use pen and paper. I use this tool at the start of new manuscripts or funding applications when I need to organize my ideas rather than to create “useful” material. I often start with the sentence “The take-home message of this paper is….” or “the central idea of this application is…”

The second tool is almost the opposite of free-flow writing, and I use it when I struggle to get a coherent storyline or logical argument. I use PowerPoint slides, and each slide needs to have a single take-home message. This forces me to divide the story into separate pieces of information and create a logical flow of arguments. If I work on a manuscript and I already have plots or graphs, then I add them to the storyline. This way I can integrate my data into a logical argument without the pressure to write that perfect sentence.

3. Trick yourself to not be distracted by the technical aspects of writing 

This third point is related to thinking of writing as different tasks. I find it helpful to not worry about citations, formatting, style and grammar when I write new material. This separation also helps to limit the interruptions to my creative thought processes. To facilitate this, I keep my notebook or a piece of paper close by and write down all the things that come to mind. When I notice something that needs fixing or I have an idea, I jot it down and try to get back to writing. On days I find myself distracted by editing citations or fixing labs on graphs, I use a basic text editor (e.g., TextEdit or NotePad).

4. Feedback and working with co-authors

Whether you’re writing a manuscript, book, or funding application, at some stage, writing involves working with other people. Something I learned from a collaborator is that the most effective way is to be clear about what you need from others. If you ask a person for feedback, be specific about what type of feedback. At the early stages of a manuscript or funding application, you might want feedback on the overall structure or clarity of your argument. Later you might ask for feedback on grammar and style. Similarly, if you work with co-authors tell them which part of the manuscript they should work on. Do you want them to write the methods, add their figures and results, or do you just need some bullet points on how their work will integrate with your parts?

Being clear about what you are asking of others not only prevents misunderstandings and frustration but also makes sure no one is wasting their time.

5. Everyone loves a good story

There might not be villains or secret lovers, but academic writing can still be a story. I love a good crime novel, so I am familiar with the concepts of narratives, plots and characters. Until recently, I did not think of scientific or academic writing as stories, but I am starting to see the benefits. Some of the best papers I read had a clear narrative. These papers took the reader on a journey and guided them through the arguments. In science, a good paper addresses a well-defined problem or tests a specific hypothesis. This becomes the main story or focus, and every piece of data and every argument feeds into that story. I am still experimenting with these ideas, but I think it is worth looking at academic writing through the lens of stories. This is particularly helpful if you write for a non-expert audience. You can even think of the characters.

Finally, among all the tips and tricks for academic writing, never forget to be kind to yourself. Writing is hard work. Sometimes your brain is just not up for it or life interferes. We all have days (or weeks) where writing just feels like a slog. That’s ok.

Keep writing and trust the process.

Additional Resources
Becoming a More Productive Writer
How to Really Manage Your Time