At some point in time, and perhaps sooner than you realize, you almost certainly will be called upon to make an oral presentation to colleagues, administrators, or a general audience whose background lies outside your specialized area of expertise. The opportunity may appear in the guise of a dissertation defense, a job interview, or as a speaker to a community group.

Nearly every such presentation has two basic components – text and illustrations. Although both elements have long received attention in the context of the primary research article, scientific writing instruction has tended to treat these other communication channels as a relatively minor afterthought. The implicit assumption has been that oral presentations involve only minor repackaging of a written document.

In recent years, however, this assumption has been challenged by new developments that have increased the status of visual communication and given it a surprisingly powerful role to play in modern scientific exchanges. Visual materials have become easy and inexpensive to produce, and in response, people are tending to use them more. Presentation software makes it relatively straightforward to generate materials that once took hours or days to create. As a consequence, visual communication has become a basic part of almost all effective scientific presentations.

In some ways, written and spoken communications are quite similar. In other ways, they differ markedly. However, for both, the content of your message must be king and graphics must be but court attendants.

Writing is usually portrayed as hard, joyless work. Great authors, it is said, must suffer from a sort of “creative madness” and work in mindless binges under endless pressures of deadlines, exhaustion, and criticism. Writing often is said to be stressful, unpleasant, and disliked. Yet, people choose to write for a living. If suffering were really the sole route to successful writing, why would anyone choose it?

Yes, it is true that stress is associated with writing that is delayed and then forced under deadlines. However, there are more attractive and productive alternatives to writing in tedious, joyless ways. We’ve already walked you through some of the preliminaries. In this chapter we guide you along a bit further. We will offer guidelines for deciding when to begin actually writing. We’ll help you deal promptly with matters of authorship, both to minimize the potential for misunderstandings and to guide collaboration and any division of responsibility. We’ll remind you of ways to use word-processing tools that will help you write more proficiently, avoiding pitfalls while becoming adept at using efficiency-enhancing features. We’ll show you how to ease the writing task by paying attention to standard format conventions. Then, in chapters that follow, we’ll walk you through the what-goes-where to write each section of the most common types of scientific papers.

Like Charles Darwin, most of us need to go over our writing to disentangle confusion, particularly in syntax, style, and word choice. (Syntax refers to the relationships between the words and other elements in a sentence. Style means the way something is done, or its basic “personality.” Thus we speak of a scientific writing style characterized by clarity and organization, an editorial style that presents written material in a certain way, or a typographic style with various artistic elements.)

The importance of these three aspects of scientific writing springs from the precision which science requires. More than one interpretation of a sentence or phrase is unacceptable, so careful attention must be paid to both word choice and word arrangement.

This step may have been what you have been expecting – and perhaps dreading – from the start. Admittedly, it can be hard work, but stick with us through the next few chapters as we work our way through this writing phase together. Mastering the fundamentals of scientific style demands no special inspiration or genius that stamps a person as different from all others. It is simply a skill akin to doing crossword puzzles or solving logic puzzles. It is a word game in which the winning combination is a sort of functional beauty that arises from barrier-free communication.

By this point in life, you’ve undoubtedly viewed enough scientific documents to recognize that almost all follow quite similar patterns, often expressed by the acronyms IMRAD – Introduction, Methods, Results And Discussion (Day and Gastel, 2011) – or AIMRaD – Abstract, Introduction, Materials and Methods, Results, and Discussion (Cargill and O’Connor, 2009). Research also is reported in other ways, of course, including such formats as case study reports, research notes, and letters. Adding to the variety, there are a few major journals that structure their articles in entirely different arrangements. However, if you examine any of these with an analytical eye, you generally will be able to find the same categories of information, even without conventional IMRAD headings to guide you.

Together, IMRAD forms the core of an effective scientific paper. Each IMRAD section is structured to address certain questions, and together they shape a critical persuasive argument. We’ll present them in order here, but write them in whatever sequence works effectively for you. If you’re a rabbit (see Chapter 3), you’ll probably start with the Introduction. If you’re a turtle, you might prefer to write it after the Methods and the Results because these two sections are generally more straightforward to compile. If you’re an iconoclast, you’ll wait to write the Introduction until after you’ve written everything else in the core and decided what everything should mean for your audience.

Each week from the 1950s through the 1990s, as many as 24 million people listened to an American newscaster named Paul Harvey broadcast a radio segment called The Rest of the Story. It always began as a quaint, apparently historical tale about someone that seemed very average until the very end, when Harvey dramatically exposed a missing element that revealed the deeper significance hidden within.

Even before publication you have become a writer, but now you stand poised at the threshold of dramatic reveal, ready to share the significance of your scientific message with the world. Only relatively minor details stand between you and scientific publication. Go forward with confidence. Soon you will be celebrating, and soon afterward, planning your next project.

Get it all together – then send it off!

Modern technology has greatly simplified the mechanics of manuscript submission. Whereas in the past, authors had to worry about the safe arrival of (sometimes multiple) copies of paper-based text and figures sent through the postal system, today most journals welcome or require electronic copy from the beginning. Clearly, this saves time, money, and hassle for everyone involved. Editors can edit the typescript on the computer screen, and, if necessary, reformat it to their specific printing requirements. Reviewers can receive it as an email attachment. After annotating their suggested changes as they read through it, they can email this to the editor, who in turn can add his or her own comments and send it back to the author. All these advances hold the potential to make the entire review process more efficient and (theoretically at least) shorten the time involved.

Written communication has two aspects. The first is your choice of words to express your thoughts. The second, which takes place in the mind of the reader, is interpretation – the conversion of your written words into their thoughts. The essential difficulty is in trying to ensure that these aspects are congruent. Studies have shown that readers base many of their most important interpretations about what they are reading on clues they receive from its structure (Gopen and Swan, 1990).

Revising is the process by which you try to optimize writer–reader congruence. Undertaken by the Process Approach, it entails a series of nested steps, each concentrating on successively finer points. The first and broadest step concentrates on the document’s structure and basic style. It includes matters such as organization, logic, accuracy, brevity, and clarity. Coherence is the desired result.

Start with organization and logic

During the process of writing a first draft, most of us include things in one place that should be in another location. We think of additional things as we write. We use words as they come to mind, even though our first thoughts are not necessarily the best and they may not be arranged in the most effective order. This step in the revision begins the process of bringing it all together into an orderly, coherent final product.

At this point, you have amassed quite a pile of research information – both your own, and that which you’ve gathered from your literature search. Gathering it probably has taken longer than you thought it would. Are you tempted to just grab something from the pile and start writing? Don’t. To do so would be akin to leaving on a trip to unknown parts without a road map! Instead, take control of the journey with a bit of planning, combined with an approach that works with and around your natural inclinations and keeps the momentum going.

Take charge of the task

Has this ever happened to you? Under pressure of a deadline, you must write a paper, but you just can’t quite get started and aren’t sure quite where to begin anyway. Days pass, and your guilt increases. Finally, a couple of days before the deadline, your adrenaline kicks in … you throw words together in whatever way you can, writing into the wee hours of the morning, then print a copy and hurriedly send it off or turn it in. Not your best effort, you mutter, but considering how little time you had, not too bad, either!

This is an old, sad story. We all have fooled ourselves like this at times. We know in the back of our minds that time spent on revision would have improved that hastily written paper immensely. But … it might take more work, and we’re not even quite sure where to begin. What if fiddling around just made the paper worse? What if we ran out of time halfway through? What if? Maybe it would be easier to keep on making excuses.

Every oral presentation has three major facets: content, design, and delivery. The quality of each of these aspects affects both the overall quality of the presentation and the extent to which the other aspects can be realized. For example, a confident delivery is much easier when you have good content and good organization. On the other hand, if the design of the talk is poor, even if the delivery is polished, it will be difficult for the audience to understand the content. We’ve presented guidelines for content and design. In this chapter, attention turns to delivery – the human elements in the way a spoken presentation actually occurs.

The human factor

It is often said that people rank speaking before a group as one of their biggest fears, and this may well be true. Most of us have relatively little experience of it and the potential for embarrassment seems high because speaking occurs in real time, so mistakes can’t be sucked back in for correction. The physical symptoms of nervousness – butterflies in one’s stomach, pounding heart, squeaky voice – are familiar to most of us as well. They are a result of adrenaline released by the body to escape an uncomfortable or threatening situation. (If it helps, think of nervousness as nature’s way of keeping you on your toes!) First let’s consider ways to get this under control. Then we can turn our attention to other aspects of delivery.

Most of us were drawn to science because, like Vonnegut, we found a subject we feel deeply about, not just because we wanted to write about it. However, all scientists recognize that research must be made known if it is to have lasting value. This is how science moves forward, with the shared word illuminating each step of discovery for the sake of others that follow.

“Scientific writing” can be defined narrowly as the reporting of original research in peer-reviewed journals, or construed more broadly to encompass other ways that scientists share research information with one another, such as review articles, abstracts, case study reports, grant proposals and summaries, posters, and slide-based presentations. (The term “science writing” is often used for writing about science topics for the general public.) Whatever form it takes, successful scientific writing must answer basic questions and address problems raised during the dialogs that identify and define a given subject. It must be clear, concise, and follow established formats. In many ways, its language forms a dialect all its own.

What is the most efficient way to write a paper or presentation that successfully covers all this? This book exists to help you tackle the task, step by step. In this chapter, we suggest that you back up from actual writing, and start where your research does – with a question. Learn the most effective ways of compiling background information. For help defining, organizing, and planning the content, use techniques borrowed from problem-solving strategies. Choose a journal so that you have a goal and format. Take charge of the whole project by using the Process Approach.

If effective scientific communication is like a well-designed and smoothly operating machine, then grammar – the accepted system of rules by which words are formed and put together to make sentences – forms the nuts and bolts that hold it all together. The individual fasteners of punctuation, capitalization, and such may seem simple and unexciting to look at, but they are undeniably important if the machine is to hold together and function properly.

In this chapter, we suggest ways of avoiding and correcting some common mechanical mistakes that scientific writers tend to make. For further advice, style manuals of special utility for biomedical writers include the Publication Manual of the American Psychological Association (2010), the AMA Manual of Style (2007), and the Council of Science Editors’ Scientific Style and Format (2006). All are updated at intervals; be sure to check for the latest edition.

Punctuate for clarity

Punctuation has one purpose – to help the reader understand the structural relationship within (and thus the intention of) a sentence. For this reason, the best approach to punctuation is almost always the simplest. Punctuation should be almost automatic. If you are puzzled over how to punctuate a particular sentence, you probably have created a sentence that will puzzle readers too, no matter how you punctuate it. Rewrite the sentence in a form that requires only simple punctuation.

The general term “figures” encompasses all the graphics that are not tables. Whether or not one may be prepared to call them art, these visual aids can be vitally important in presenting a scientist’s message. They summarize and emphasize key points and reduce narrative length. They simplify information and in this way enhance understanding. They improve the conciseness and clarity of the narrative. And finally, when carefully crafted, they add visual appeal.

Use figures when one will make your point more successfully than the text or a table would. Generally figures are necessary for one of three E’s: evidence, efficiency, or emphasis. Evidence is easy. If something of visual interest occurs during a clinical trial or a case study, one naturally wants to document it with a photograph. During a taxonomic study, an unusual structure or notable range in a character’s expression seems to beg for illustration.

Efficiency implies that the figure is the most succinct and effective way to make a particular point. In a scientific paper, for maximal efficiency one should generally combine material rather than presenting a repetitious series of similar figures. Draw several curves on a single graph. Combine diagrams to illustrate steps in a procedure, or cluster photographs to show morphological variation in a trait. Illustrations prepared for oral presentations generally present a relatively limited amount of information; they usually can and should be combined for publication.

Emphasis, the third E, is a major reason for using illustrations in a spoken talk, and often in popular science writing. However, journal editors may consider emphasis alone to be insufficient for a published research paper. Most editors will stringently assess each figure’s usefulness in communicating the message of the paper.

Graphics come in many formats, but in the parlance of an editor, all illustrations in scientific writing are of just two types, tables and figures. Both types of visual data presentation have the potential to provide vital support for your scientific narrative, but each has its own strengths and limitations and they share few similarities in format.

Thus, a logical place to begin is by deciding whether a table is actually the best choice for presenting the data under consideration. Then we will move on to consider efficacious ways to develop and present tables for a traditional research paper. (Later, in Chapter 8, we will consider when and how to use figures, and in Chapter 15, ways to adapt both types of graphics for oral presentations or posters.)

Use tables appropriately

Everyone has seen scientific tables – not surprisingly, for they almost always are a scientist’s first choice among visual aids. They range from short and informal in-text presentations to formal compilations spanning several pages. In scientific and technical communications, they are so common that beginner writers sometimes attempt to use them even when tables are not the most effective or appropriate way to tell their particular scientific story.

Choose the data display that tells your story best

The strengths of numerical tables include presenting exact values, raw data, or data which do not fit into any simple pattern. Word tables are particularly useful for classifying information or describing relationships. The overall goal of both is the same – not just to “present the data” but also to make either a trend or the overall picture more obvious. The most suitable form is the one that will make it easiest for readers to discern those elements that are essential to building your story.

The task took vision, determination, and perhaps some figurative glue on the chair seat, but at last you’ve finished drafting IMRAD, the core of a scientific research paper. Now it’s time to include the somewhat automatic details that will complete your first draft. Let’s get started with the lengthiest section left to do – the reference list.

Compile a careful and complete reference list

As you’ve been developing the basic storyline of your paper, you’ve come upon many places where you have explicitly relied upon the work of others to help develop your message. Text citations and reference lists exist to acknowledge that reliance. Notice that there are two places in a scientific paper where referenced citations are crucial – the Introduction and the Discussion, and two other places where they rarely appear – the Abstract and the Results.

In developing a Reference section for your paper, most of the challenge lies in maintaining a high and consistent level of attention to detail. When at last you feel ready to submit your paper, check the references and citations, one by one. Ensure that sources have been listed for every important idea that is not your own.

Verify each of your references against the original document (not someone else’s list!), both to correct any inadvertent errors and to ensure that you have not misrepresented the authors’ intent. Then check every entry one more time to make sure that its style and format are consistently correct for your intended publisher.

To most people, the word “research” brings to mind a white-coated scientist actively carrying out a laboratory experiment, conducting a survey, or sifting through statistical data. “Literature search,” on the other hand, summons an image of second-hand involvement, a desk-based worker compiling studies done by others. In reality, however, search and research are conjoined twins – a powerful duo, equally active and equally vital to one another’s vitality and success.

As is true for other siblings, one or the other of these twins may grow and develop more rapidly than the other at various stages. The first substantial writing that many beginning scientists produce is either a prospectus or progress report on their thesis or dissertation research, or a short journal article written jointly with their supervisor or major professor. Increasingly, a detailed prospectus that includes a literature review is being requested before research projects can begin. Likewise, in business and industry, a written proposal often must precede approval for research projects, and its worth can influence promotion and pay. In fact, one would be hard pressed to find any scientific profession that would not require checking published sources of information about a specific subject, integrating this information with one’s own ideas, and presenting one’s thoughts, findings, and conclusions effectively in a wider context. For these reasons and more, scientific writing really begins when you first reach past your own knowledge and experience to seek out, investigate, and use materials beyond your personal resources.