5 Lessons I've Learned as a Science Writer

Even though I've worked as a science writer in an official capacity for almost 2 years now, I only recently got comfortable fully owning the title. Technically, I've been writing about science since the pencil-to-paper short answer questions on my high school biology quizzes. They required little more than memorizing and regurgitating basic definitions and processes. Real writing with real understanding came later when I started doing neuroscience research. Still, "real understanding" might be a stretch for my the first draft of the manuscript summarizing results from my undergraduate research project. After my PI applied her edits and gently encouraged me that it was a great try, my first draft was hardly recognizable compared to the published article.

With years of practice, encouragement from mentors, and several partially-finished Coursera certificates, I now feel confident enough to call myself a science writer. It's not for of any of those reasons, but simply because I write about science. I liken it to the occasional pattern of humility I find in the running community. Some athletes shy away from calling themselves runners before meeting an arbitrary benchmark (miles run per week, races per year, qualifying for a certain city's world-renowned marathon, to name a few). What is a runner? Someone who runs. And a writer is someone who writes, regardless of publications, citations, and degrees.

Here are 5 of the most important lessons I've learned on my journey to becoming a science writer.

1. To write is to read.

Most writers relay the advice that writing is editing, and starting a first draft is the hardest part. Writing a first draft regardless of quality is an effective method of overcoming writer's block, but I like to extend grace to the reading period required of scientific writing. Whenever I start to write a new piece, I inevitably spend most of the early phases doing nothing but reading. I read about the topic I intend to write about, peruse other topics, click links, travel down rabbit holes, and eventually find my way back to a relevant source. None of this is wasted time. Framing a story and forming a unique perspective requires reflection and processing, in addition to directed research, before ideas get put into words.

2. Knowledge is not necessary.

Believing the notion that you need a particular knowledge base to write about a topic will limit the types of projects at which you could excel. So much of the writing process happens during the research phase. It is certainly helpful to have background in the topic, but the beautiful thing about science is that many principles are applicable across seemingly unrelated fields. Science writing requires more flexibility than specific knowledge. My first undergraduate research project was about bat echolocation in differently-foliaged habitats, my PhD is in psychology, and my portfolio has pieces about neuroscience, ophthalmology, mental health, psychiatry, and animal behavior. The common threads reflect my interests, but I've learned to lean into all topics - even the ones I'm scared of.

3. Communicating is difficult.

Even for someone who writes every day, some days are harder than others. Most of the time, writing is a frustrating and tedious process. My prose doesn't flow as easily as I sometimes think it should. I use a thesaurus and I edit everything several times over, fine-tuning the details until I'm a little bit happier with the result each time. The writing world is becoming more AI-dependent. As I write this in the Wix blog manager, AI tools hover next to highlighted sections with a twinkle in their eye, begging to tweak the tone of my paragraph and generate ideas for new content. I don't blame anyone for using AI. It's useful in so many ways we could have never imagined even 5 years ago. In lieu of turning this into an analysis of AI's role in journalism, the lesson I learned is that writing might get slightly easier, but it's always hard.

4. Don't skip fact checking.

To take it one step further - don't skip the boring, non-writing parts of the process. Having a foolproof system of file organization, reference management, and draft version-control will make the creative and technical aspects of writing easier. As for checking facts, when sharing knowledge with the public, it is our responsibility to report factual information. Even when interpreting a study, make sure your statements can be backed up by some indisputable statement in a resource somewhere. The "somewhere" should be in your expertly organized files. Organization looks different to everyone, so develop a system that works for you.

5. Writing is learning.

This final point reiterates a theme threaded through the previous 4 points. Writers actively engage in learning with every new project. As breakthrough research gets released, we learn about it along with the rest of the world. If you're lucky, you learn about it first and then get to tell everyone else about it. We are at the forefront of spreading knowledge about new treatments, medications, statistical methods, and theories. We learn via podcasts, articles, journals, comics, and blog posts. Every project involves learning something new. Learning is hard-wired in writing.

Reminding myself of these lessons helps me continue to write even when it's hard, even after spending hours researching with an empty draft and 30 open browser tabs to show for it. This is hardly a guide to writing, but I hope it helps give perspective to other writers, science or otherwise.