INTRODUCTION

TOP INTRODUCTION WHY CHANGE? WHY SCIENCE WRITING? TAKING THE PLUNGEACTUALLY,... REWARDING BENEFITS NOT EASY, BUT WORTH... LITERATURE CITED

Barry A. Palevitz

I used to be a bench scientist. Starting as a graduate student in the heyday of cell ultrastructure and ending 30 years later with immunofluorescence and a little molecular biology (thanks to great collaborators), I studied the plant cytoskeleton. About 5 years ago, for a variety of reasons, I decided a change was in order. I'm still in science, but the way I practice my profession is different. I write full time, and I love it.

	WHY CHANGE?

TOP INTRODUCTION WHY CHANGE? WHY SCIENCE WRITING? TAKING THE PLUNGEACTUALLY,... REWARDING BENEFITS NOT EASY, BUT WORTH... LITERATURE CITED

After 30 years of research, I still liked what I was doing. The sense of wonder about the natural world never leftif I had my druthers, I'd spend hours watching a cell divide. Still, though leaving science was unthinkable, something was missing. When I was a postdoctoral fellow, I sat in the library each Friday afternoon reading all sorts of things. Now I felt confined, and I longed for a wider perspective.

I wanted to know more about all areas of botany and biology. I also wanted to reach a much wider audience. Continuing to publish on plant microtubules was an option, but surely somebody else would discover the same things I did sooner or later. How many more people could I reach by interesting a more general audience in scientific discoveries and the way they're made.

I have to admit that other things were bothering me too. Late in my bench career, I had a sensational postdoctoral fellow, Richard Cyr, and an incredible graduate student, Bo Liu. The experience was nothing short of invigorating, but who could possibly match them?! They were an impossible act to follow. To be honest, I also had my share of stiffs, and frankly I was tired of motivating and programming people, some of whom were less than cooperative. Convincing the National Science Foundation and the U.S. Department of Agriculture every 2 or 3 years that I was worth their trust was also getting "old". With the press of writing papers and grant proposals, plus everything else I was doing, I wasn't spending time in the lab any more. I toyed with the idea of scaling down drastically, even working alone. But academia makes that option nearly impossible. Science requires large blocks of time, which I found increasingly hard to find. Besides, the days of one person making an impact are largely gonemodern biology takes lots of people and money. Still, I longed to work alone, responsible just to myself. If I was going to change directions, I wanted to do it quickly, while I was still on top.

Some of my colleagues, even my department head, suggested a sabbatical to recharge my batteries. It had worked in the past, allowing me to get into a new research area. But that didn't seem right now; the problem was more systemic.

	WHY SCIENCE WRITING?

TOP INTRODUCTION WHY CHANGE? WHY SCIENCE WRITING? TAKING THE PLUNGEACTUALLY,... REWARDING BENEFITS NOT EASY, BUT WORTH... LITERATURE CITED

All scientists communicateit's an indispensable tool of the trade. Why discover something and not tell others about it?! I wrote my first research paper for the Journal of Cell Biology in 1969, an experience that's etched in my memory and probably still gives Eldon Newcomb, my major professor, nightmares. More papers followed, hopefully better than the first. Unfortunately, the general public and even colleagues outside our immediate area of interest have trouble figuring out what scientists do because of the insular techspeak of scientific discourse. On the other hand, with battles raging in the streets and in media over biotechnology and evolution, who better to accurately inform the public about the excitement and process of science than people trained in the discipline? Unfortunately, many of us either feel incapable of explaining our work in everyday language or think it's somebody else's job to do so. The E.O. Wilsons, Carl Sagans, and Rachel Carsons of this world are great writers, but they're not a dime a dozen.

I'd be disingenuous to claim that I answered the clarion call coming from various organizations and individuals for scientists to come down from their ivory towers for the sake of informing taxpayers and politicians who pay for research. Altruism did come into playwhich I'll explain laterbut not this way.

In hindsight, though writing was a natural option for me, more than a pinch of serendipity went into the mix. I was fortunate that Eldon Newcomb contacted me after I accepted admission to graduate school at the University of Wisconsin back in 1966, not only because he was an outstanding scientist and role model whose lab was humming with activity, but because he had a "thing" about good writing. He insisted on it. I can't say I was an accomplished wordsmith when I left Madison, but at least I appreciated its importance. Luckily, I received a National Science Foundation postdoctoral fellowship with Peter Heplerthen at Stanfordwho also came out of Newcomb's lab and shared his love for the written word. Peter nurtured my skills in lab and on paper. He was also fond of James JoyceI was impressed, but not enough to get through Ulysses.

I also happened to send one of my postdoctoral papers to Anton Lang, then editor of Planta. Anton had strict standards, but most importantly, like a good literary editor, he meticulously critiqued my writing and in doing so, reinforced my respect for stringing words together in the best way. It was still "sciencese", but Anton taught me valuable lessons about saying things clearly and succinctly. I tried to emulate him when I began my own editing for Protoplasma, though I admit I haven't come close.

	TAKING THE PLUNGEACTUALLY, SLOWLY WADING INTO DEEP WATER

TOP INTRODUCTION WHY CHANGE? WHY SCIENCE WRITING? TAKING THE PLUNGEACTUALLY,... REWARDING BENEFITS NOT EASY, BUT WORTH... LITERATURE CITED

Nine years after coming to Athens, our local National Public Radio station hit the airwaves, and I was fortunate to meet one of the station's producers, Angela Elam, who asked me to do a series of short spots on science and nature. It took a bit of convincing and a few lunches, but I eventually agreed. Angela taught me how to say something in 2 to 3 minutes in a way any one could understand, which meant writing a good script.

I started reading more books and articles by great popularizers of science. Soon I was analyzing not just what these authors were saying, but HOW they said ittheir choice of words and how they turned a phrase. Eventually, I submitted essays for our local weekly newspaper and eventually summoned the courage to ask Eugene Garfield, publisher of The Scientist, to entertain a commentary on citation ethics. "Dr. G" gave me valuable advice, as did Barbara Spector, the managing editor at the time. Seeing my work in print, I really caught "the bug". I still write for The Scientist, and I thank its staff, including current editor Larry Hand, for giving me lots of freedom. I've written about all sorts of things, from evolution, biotechnology, and Viagra to the health risk posed by macaque-borne herpes B virus.

Once again, though, serendipity played a role. I owe much of my success as a writer to Ricki Lewis, one of The Scientist's main contributors. Not long after that first essay, Ricki contacted me about a letter I had written defending her article on evolution. An experienced journalist and textbook author with a PhD in genetics, Ricki provided the manna that nourishes all writers: encouragement and constructive criticism. With Ricki's help, I learned how to really polish words, getting them just right. We also became co-authors and good friends.

I'm branching out now, writing pieces for magazines and newspapers, including the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, where I cover subjects as diverse as Arabidopsis, HIV, and knee injuries in female athletes. It takes most of my "free time"I work harder now than I did in lab. And in my own way, I think I'm helping the scientific community at large more now than then.

	REWARDING BENEFITS

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It's strange how rivulets of experience join forces in the river of life's work. About 10 years ago, one of my colleagues convinced me to advise undergraduate biology majors. Since I was heavily committed to our introductory biology sequence, I agreed. The decision changed my life because I got to know students at a more personal level. When an ex-advisee contacted me a few years later to thank me for my help (he had just finished a Masters degree in forensics), I realized the impact I could make.

With a better attitude toward students, I also wanted to teach more effectively, particularly to non-majors suffering extreme sciencitis. To lighten up the usual textbook approach and better relate subjects to everyday life, I incorporated more general science writing into my introductory courses. In lectures on transpiration and ecology, I added articles by Charles Seabrook from the Journal-Constitution on the relationship between development-related loss of trees in metro Atlanta and the appearance of urban heat islands.

I put my new interests to work in another way as well, by starting a course in popular science writing with colleague Michelle Momany. We teach the course in the spring, and alternate yearly between graduate and undergraduate levels. Teaching science writing is a wonderful experience. When somebody says you changed their life, it's pretty awesome. I'm proud to say that several of our students have published their class assignments, and one of them, Maria Anderson, just interned at The Scientist, earning her share of bylines. Another veteran of the course, Stacie Sutton, now writes about research for Georgia State University in Atlanta. Michelle and I find that graduate students are receptive to non-traditional careers, and therefore find the course valuable. A geology colleague who also offers a writing course says the experience helped his graduate students get jobs.

Because I publish articles on biotechnology, colleagues ask me to guest lecture on how the press covers this issue, including the recent flap over Bt corn and monarch butterflies. I also talk about evolution and creationism, another pet subject of mine, to civic and religious groups. When state authorities decided to remove evolution and cosmology from the school curriculum, Kansas Citizens for Science asked if they could post one of my articles on their Web site. Eventually, I spoke at their annual convention. Recently, I keynoted the University of Tennessee's annual Darwin Day event. I never did this kind of thing before, but now realize it's an important way to communicate the facts and process of science to people who often know little about it.

	NOT EASY, BUT WORTH IT

TOP INTRODUCTION WHY CHANGE? WHY SCIENCE WRITING? TAKING THE PLUNGEACTUALLY,... REWARDING BENEFITS NOT EASY, BUT WORTH... LITERATURE CITED

I can't claim that the last few years have been a bed of roses. After being immersed in a culture like science for a long time, change can be pretty scary. Little devils of self-esteem poked at my brain, sometimes disturbing a good night's rest. What will my colleagues think of me? There was also my department head to consider: What will he do? Will my decision affect annual reviews, paycheck, and perks? As a full professor, I knew I had a little leeway, but I wouldn't recommend what I did to a junior faculty member hoping for tenure. Still, I'm convinced that universities, above all other institutions, should provide enough latitude for faculty to cultivate new interests, particularly if they have a proven track record, stay intellectually productive, and contribute to the institution's stature.

I've met some wonderful science writers in the last few years. They may not be trained scientists, but they're conscientious in translating new results for the public, love what they do, and bend over backwards to work with researchers. Many attend special courses to improve their knowledge base. Most cultivate experts who provide background information. Yes, a common mantra among scientists sometimes comes true: Journalists can get the story wrong or misquote a source. The pressure of deadlines and competition for space may compromise accuracy and content.

It's a two-way street, though. I've interviewed some pretty obnoxious researchers while working on articles. Journalists put up with scientists who talk down to them, assume they're idiots, and won't take time to explain their work. I naively assumed that, being a card-carrying club member, colleagues would treat me differently than they do other writers. That hasn't always been the case. Having seen both sides of the science/journalism interface, one thing I can say to scientists is, don't ever dismiss a journalist with "just read my papers."

In many ways, science and journalism are two cultures, worlds apart (Hartz and Chappell, 1997). If enough scientists make the effort and journalists take more time to learn science, hopefully things will change. Fortunately, most plant people are eager to help.