Giving feedback on graduate student writing

Tags

graduate students, writing

It doesn’t take long for any nascent scientist who (co/)supervises graduate students (hereafter “PI”) to realise that a significant part of the job is reviewing graduate student writing – paper drafts, thesis chapters, grant applications, and more. It’s often the students’ first time working in a collaborative environment where the concept of multiple iterations of the same document is expected and the norm, and where it can be very confronting to have a draft returned with the digital equivalent of red ink (track changes… and why is the default for the first editor always red?! Can you change it?).

And for PIs, it only take 3 students to realize that one finds oneself making the same suggestions rather frequently, which can feel annoying (even though it may be the first time the student has had that piece of feedback), and put the PI in a mental space that is less than perfect, perhaps even overly critical.

I asked on Twitter what I think is one of the biggest questions any PI-student relationship deals with – when and how often do students send their PI drafts. Ultimately, as with everything, it comes down to what works best for the relationship between the student and the PI.

There was a slight preference for piecemeal, section by section, but a higher proportion than I was expecting for “the whole thing at once”. My personal preference is somewhere in the middle – each section once, perhaps twice if there are significant changes, but no more until the whole thing is together. I think that after 2 rounds of back-and-forth, it becomes less about ideas and structure, and more about flow and connections, which I like to consider in a whole document.

There are all kinds of strategies out there for where to start (abstract! results! methods! outline! figures & tables!), and that ultimately comes down to the individual student and their writing style. If they are just starting out, I’ll usually ask for 5 bullet points for the intro, their hypotheses, objectives, and/or predictions to kick start the process.

But what about all those niggling things that come up nearly every time? When I was a MSc student, any complete drafts for review would be printed and placed in my PIs mailbox. But importantly, on top of each we had to put a coversheet that covered some of the common bits of feedback, like making sure all the references were cited in the text & listed in the reference list, all the tables & figures were referred to (and didn’t duplicate each other), and that another member of the lab had read it over first. It functioned as a checklist to supplement the post-it notes I had stuck above my desk with my own personal common blunders (“Adverbs follow verbs!” was a common one).

Now that I supervise my own students, and in particularly through the Adrift Lab, we decided to take the same idea and make it fit for our own lab.

You can download a PDF version of it here, with a second page that features some common writing advice for scientific papers.

One could argue that many of these are largely typographical or aesthetic, and indeed they are, but they also serve a function of ensuring that the text gets a thorough review, and save time downstream (both for us as PIs, and the student). The volume of graduate student writing is increasing (literature reviews, chapters, grants, and more) so even a modest saving of our time, across the entirety of the students in the lab, makes a real difference.

Now, every student-PI relationship is different, and some require more or less input to make them productive, healthy, and beneficial to both. But so far, this seems to be a system that’s worked reasonably well for us.

Keeping track of projects and prioritising work

Tags

project management, time management

One of the perennial discussions that crops up in science circles (both academic and non-academic) is how to keep track of projects and prioritise what to work on in away that doesn’t feel like using a parasol to combat a fire hose at close range.

I know there are bits of project management software, but I have enough Gantt charts in my life, and nearly everyone in science has a spreadsheet program. Plus, it’s the system I’ve used for the last 10 years or so, from near the end of my PhD through two postdocs, and now two research positions.

First, some basics. I keep track of a lot of projects… some are mine, some are my students, some I haven’t heard anything about in more than a year and may be dead in the water. Some of mine may in fact be floundering in the intertidal as we speak. Details have been redacted to protect the procrastinating and overworked.

It’s also not a “set in stone” priority list. In my hierarchy, first come student papers, followed by papers with colleagues who need them for jobs, tenure, promotion, etc. And of course those requiring little input from me at the time quickly rise to the top regardless of where they fall on the spreadsheet.

I’ve set up rules to auto-colour cells based on whether something sits with me (ALB), a coauthor, or a journal, and whether a particular state is done (Yes), in progress (Part), or not yet started (No). I then sort these in descending order across columns to get … the final product. The grey bars are the projects that I really want ot try and focus on, for one reason or another (student, been-around-for-a-long-time, for a coauthor’s job/application/tenure/etc).

Following each line is a note to myself about what the next steps are (e.g., “review draft”, or “re-run stats with 2019 data”), and for those with coauthors, who it’s sitting with (“With JK”). The last column is the planned journal, or where it’s been submitted. I don’t keep track of unsuccessful submissions here (I do that in both the project’s folder and in email correspondence). I also don’t keep track of dates because I’ve not really had a need or desire to.

And lastly, there are two tabs, with identical headings: one for, well, current projects, and another for what I’ve affectionately called “dormant projects” – those where I’m not sure if they’ll ever amount to anything, or are shelved, on hiatus, or otherwise inactive. They’re not yet binned totally, and some do come back to being active (if an interested student comes along, for example).

So I hope this might be helpful, and I’m sure there are ways I can make it better, but it’s a system that seems to work for me.

Good science happens because of good people – thoughts on coauthorship

Tags

authorship, publishing

The title of this post if often how I end my talks and show that even though I’ve been the one talking for the last 45-50 minutes, there’s a whole cadre of students, mentors, and collaborators behind the science. And I will admit that I have had, on the whole, generally good experiences with coauthors. Perhaps so much so that when things don’t go as smoothly, I really notice it. And I’ve only had one coauthoring experience that I would describe as truly awful (and perhaps unsurprisingly, that paper was never published).

So below are a few nuggets. It’s not advice, or meant to be prescriptive, but is more about the ethos that we (my coauthors and I) have tried to adopt over the last 15 years. It’s never been something that someone sat me down to explain, and I’ve picked it up over the years working for (and with) folks at universities, NGOs, quasi-NGOs, government, and community groups.

 

Authorship

Always (ALWAYS) discuss this up front, but be open enough to discuss it again as projects change. I am a huge fan of the CLEAR Lab’s Equity in Author Order post, and highly recommend it. Different folks in different places (geographically, career-wise) have different pressures. Read Max’s post above which lays it out better than I ever could.

 

Journal

We all have preferences for journals, and different factors that go into picking one. Some folks do/don’t have funds for open access. Some have to play the impact factor game. Some need something out quick (more on this below). We always try to come up with a list of 2-3 so that there isn’t a lot of back-and-forth in the case of desk rejects (which happen often enough).

 

Time

With very few exceptions, there are no hard limits on getting things submitted. Not necessarily everyone on the team has a huge time allocation for research, and speaking from personal experience, timelines of “get this back in a week” aren’t likely to be met with compliance. It obviously depends on one’s team, but I found that at least 3 weeks for minor comments worked for a bunch of our papers (especially with larger teams). And obviously longer for things like first drafts or major changes. Whenever we suggest a deadline, we usually include the caveat that if someone feels they can’t make it, we can happily accommodate if they let us know.

The same goes for revisions. I have yet to be denied additional time from a journal to complete revisions, so long as they know it’s coming. And believe me, I have certainly asked frequently.

 

Software

There are lots of tools for writing papers these days. Overleaf, Google docs, Word, TeX, papyrus, and no doubt others. There are likely to be legitimate preferences for one over the other, and finding a consensus (with rationale for why) is another piece that brings everyone on board. For several years, I was in the field & working offline for large chunks of time so Google Docs was less than ideal, for example. Each has its advantages and disadvantages.

 

Communication

I mean, this one is pretty universal. But in this context, I mean keeping everyone in the loop about where things are. Not all journals email all coauthors about decisions, and sometimes folks who aren’t coauthors will need to be kept in the loop. Send around submitted (and indeed accepted versions) of manuscripts for folks to decide to keep for their records. In the case of accepted versions, many institutional repositories need these, and so it saves an email.

 

Develop a checklist

If you work with the same team, or supervise students, having a quick checklist for common issues can be helpful and save time. Are all references cited listed? Are the figures colour-blind-friendly? Our students submit this checklist with each new submission, and it means we can focus on the more substantive parts of the manuscript.

 

A note about process

With all the above, we try to come to a decision by consensus and after hearing from everyone. Sure, we have suggestions and can have informed starting suggestions, but we get the OK from all before proceeding. Yes, it can take a bit longer, but it means that everyone’s involved in the decisions, and has a bit more invested in the project and its success. At the end of the day, everyone’s name is going to appear on it, so if there’s something grating someone the wrong way, it’s not great (from either side).

The above is just a few of the major “process” things we think about when writing a paper. There are indeed more, and as I said, this isn’t meant to be prescriptive or a complete list. My point is that finding a system that eliminates (or mitigates hurdles before they manifest in a collaborative way has been a huge benefit for us, and when we end up working in other collaborative circles without some (or any) of these, it’s quite noticeable, and sometime unpleasant.

An understanding of everyone’s pressures, institutional requirements, and logistical situation up-front can help ensure smooth(er) passage of papers through the part of science publication where we have the most direct control – producing that manuscript for submission.

 

Happy coauthoring!

Suggestions for responding to reviewer comments

Tags

peer review, publishing

One of the often frustrating things about the scientific process is finally getting the manuscripts published. This is true of reports, theses, journal articles, white papers, and more. Anything that undergoes any mechanism of external review where a response is needed. Journal manuscripts are the most common in my line of work, so that’s where I’ll focus, though this applies elsewhere, too.

When scientists submit manuscripts to a journal, journal editors who think the submission is suitable for their journal (in terms of scope and quality) will send it out to other experts in the field to comment on and provide an assessment. But in a throwback to the pre-computer age, where carbon copies of types manuscripts were mailed and returned, reviewers provide this feedback by referring to page or line number in a separate document rather than, say, a tracked changes function in a word processor.

If the manuscript isn’t rejected at this stage, authors are invited to respond to these comments, and either comply, rebut, or present new arguments to convince the editor that the work is publishable in that particular journal. Again, as a separate document, often called a “response to review”. And it’s this document that is the focus of this post because seldom is any guidance given, and how one approaches it can be one of those “unwritten rules” about science.

Steve Heard has this covered well on his blog as well, and in his excellent book on science writing (and I hasten to add, he was the first person who explained this process to me when I was a wee masters student, n years ago!).

Here’s an example reviewer comment:

L283 – while this may be true for chocolate cookies, what do the authors expect in their study system of apple pies?

As reviewer comments go, this one is pretty good. It’s specific, and makes a clear suggestion, highlighting what they see as a weakness (in this case, perhaps applying an incorrect interpretation from a different system).

So, how to respond?

If the journal system lets you upload a response to review as a separate document (my preferred method!), then my approach has 3 parts:

1. Put the reviewer comment in boldface. Just copy & paste it. It’s then easier for you, your coauthors, the editor, and other reviewers to see which comment you’re replying to. I dislike colours because some folks print things out, and bold text is easily distinguished.
2. Immediately below, explain what you did (or didn’t do) to address the comment in normal type.
3. Quote ANY new or changed text in italics. Don’t refer to line numbers (which can get easily muddled); just put it right here for everyone to see.

So if we take our example above, it might look something like this:

L283 – while this may be true for chocolate cookies, what do the authors expect in their study system of apple pies?

We thank the reviewer for pointing out this comparison. Indeed, the approach for consuming chocolate cookies (i.e., using one’s hands) is less often applied in the case of filled pastries, including apple pies. We have changed the text to: “Desserts are easily consumed with hands (Monster, 2018) or can be eaten with assistance from cutlery (Garfield 2015)”

Garfield [The Cat]. 2015. Refined dining for modern felines. J. Arbuckle Press, Samoa.

With a quick look, the editor (or reviewer, as it often gets sent back for Round n+1) can see how the comment was addressed, and doesn’t have to wade through the entire manuscript, comparing it to an old version. And a happy editor/reviewer is often a kinder reviewer/editor.

For minor suggestions, like word choice, typos, or where the reviewer comment is obvious, it’s fine to respond with “Fixed” or “Changed as suggested”. But when in doubt add more information rather than less.

At the end of the day, though, the precise formatting doesn’t matter. What matters is that the information is presented clearly and can be easily assessed. Some journals (or some programs) use plain text for responses to review. In this case, I paste the reviewer comment, and below start my comment with “Response” or “R:”, and sadly the new/inserted text part gets left off.

Few things frustrate reviewers or editors more than a response of “Changed” without indicating where or how. I just stumbled on these formatting methods, and I’m sure there are others. The general advice of clearly indicating a response (to each and every comment) and marking any new or inserted text can be accomplished in many ways.

Happy responding!

 

A 3-click solution to improving the work/life balance of others

Tags

email, time management, work-life balance

I think it’s safe to say a good number of us struggle with the large amount considerable volume overwhelming flood of email.

And many of us have implemented solutions, and there’s been lots of discussion about how to stem the tide that washes over us almost daily (see this post & the comments over on Dynamic Ecology). But ultimately, the problem starts with each of us as individuals, and the volume of email we send, and when we send it. For those of us who have staff, students, or other trainees, the latter can often send a not-so-subtle message.

With near-constant connectivity comes an expectation of immediate responses. Many of us have email on our phones, or spend most of our working day sitting at a computer with our email client/web page open, where it bings and chimes with each incoming message. Two years ago, I started tracking the outgoing volume of email I generated, and it’s somewhere between 6500-7500 messages a year. And I don’t teach or have student queries.

I’ve also worked in places where I’ve received emails from managers (from my own boss right up to their boss’s boss’s boss) not just outside work hours, but at 10pm, or on weekends. In a sense, this is understandable: it’s quiet time when there are no expectations on them, so they catch up on email. I’ve done it, as I suspect most researchers and managers have. But the not-so-subtle implication is “I’m working this extra time, and so you should be, too”, or at least that work outside the paid contracted hours is necessary to do one’s job.

So to try and combat this, I’ve implemented two strategies, one for me, and one for the people I work with.

1. I don’t respond to work email outside typical work hours

Because I supervise students in different time zones, have managed field staff, and do have some other on-call responsibilities that require me to be contactable, I do have email on my phone, and do check it outside work hours, but unless it’s something that absolutely can’t wait until the next day (or Monday if on a weekend), I read it and deal with it later. Over time, this ingrains the expectation that I’m not instantly contactable outside work hours for work things.

2. I use the “Delay Delivery” function outside work hours

Like I said above, sometimes I do sit down on the weekend with my pot of tea and bash through a bunch of emails that have backed up over the last <period of time>. But there’s a fancy (and easy) tool in Outlook called Delay Delivery that makes sure I’m not creating unsustainable and unrealistic expectations on those I’m emailing.

This is the 3-click solution I mentioned in the title.

This is a feature of Microsoft Outlook, and so far I haven’t seen an equivalent solution for Apple’s Mail, or email sent from a phone. There is a Gmail extension called Boomerang, though. Here’s how it works.

First, write your email/response as usual:

Second, click on the Options tab (click #1), and near the right, click on “Delay Delivery” (click #2).

And lastly, in the Delivery Options section, you can set the time when Outlook delivers the email in the “Do not deliver before” field, by setting the date & time. Click Close (click #3) and you’re done.

The only downside I’ve found is that your computer has to be connected and Outlook open in order to send messages at the defined time, and as I said above, I’m not sure this functionality transfers to other email clients.

It might seem like a small thing, or maybe a giant pain, but it’s a simple solution to help us all walk the walk of improving work-life balance, particularly of those we supervise or manage.

 

UPDATE! Ben Britton pointed me to this VBA code & post of his that will automatically delay delivery!

How much to charge for independent consulting work

Tags

altac, consulting

A significant non-zero number of scientists do additional paid work on top of their day job in the form of consulting, or being paid for their expertise by someone other than their main employer (a university or research organization, for example). This inevitably leads to the question of how much a given service/task will cost, and as a the usual outcome is an under-estimate on the part of the would-be consultant.

As someone who’s done a bit of this in the past, and in both the scientific & artistic/theatrical side (two areas where professionals, especially early in their careers, low-ball their own value), here are a few tips to get yourself started.

There’s all sorts of geographic variation in how much a given service costs, and that’s a horrendously complex factor that will obviously depend where you are. As a starting point, though, salaries are an imperfect but widely interpretable proxy. I suggest making a spreadsheet. We’ll make two column: one for your day job and one for consulting.

In the first row, enter your gross annual salary (i.e., the pre-tax, pre-deduction “advertised price”).

In the second row, enter your net annual salary (i.e., after tax & other deductions).

From these, you can easily calculate monthly net & gross (divide by 12), weekly (divide by 52), and an hourly rate (divide weekly by something between 36-40 depending on the norms of your area).

In the next column, we’ll calculate the starting point for consultancy pricing. First, multiply all these rates by at least 1.5. Why? Because you cost more than your salary. Organizations recover some/all of this in overhead/incidental costs or some other accounting term. Electricity, furniture, phone, computer, heat, and the general support like admin & finance, HR, IT and everything else. And in some places, this also includes the employer’s pension and social safety net (e.g., National Insurance, Employment Insurance) contribution which you as an individual also need to manage.

Taking the consultancy hourly gross rate, figure out what 2 days would cost. This is the absolute minimum to charge. Admin burden & infrastructure don’t scale well with length of consultancy. It takes just as much time to deal with the paperwork for a 1-day contract as a 1-month contract. One option is to use this (or some variation) as a base price on top of which any hourly work is billed. Admin carries on after the contract is over, remember, when filing taxes, or maintaining records.

And of course, this assumes your work is based at your home and on a computer. Travel and field work costs would be extra, of course.

When estimating the time tasks will take, I generally adopt the Montgomery Scott Method for Time Estimating (MSMTE): multiply your original estimate by a factor of at least four (two may be more realistic), particularly for more complex projects. And don’t forget to track your time using a timesheet or other method so you know how much time the task is taking. If you think it’s going to go over, flag this with your client. Chances are it will rarely (if ever) be under.

So let’s walk through an example.

You’re asked to do some desk-based analysis or writing, and you reckon it would take you a week to do (that is, about 40 hours of work). Your current annual gross is $50k (which is about $25/hour), so your consulting rate is $38/hour. The base cost is $1520. Add 2 days’ for admin ($570) and the total contract would be $2090.

This is, of course, just a starting point. It’s at your discretion to change any of the parameters here, of course, and they may also vary depending on the situation (NGO vs government agency vs corporate body for example). But my suggestion here is to simply alter the multiplication factor (for example, 1.3x for NGOs & non-profits, 1.5x for universities/government, 2x for for-profit companies). And this also assumes that you feel your salary accurately reflects the job/skills that you do (which may not always be the case, though I suspect few of us would describe ourselves as overpaid).

One final note – be prepared for there to be negotiations, and don’t undervalue yourself. It’s ok to turn down some work if you don’t think it’s worth your time, but equally there may be personal/professional situations where you might take on a piece of work at a lower rate than you would do otherwise (e.g., when first starting up). And recall that these numbers/figures I’ve thrown around are just a starting point, and will depend on where you are, the kind of work you do, the field, and the competition. But they’re a good place to start.

See also this post by Emilio Bruna on the same topic.

Happy consulting!

 

So you want to “do something about/for diversity”

Tags

diversity, LGBTQ, Women in Science

In the last several months/years, I’ve seen an increasing number of “diversity initiatives”, and attention paid to issues of diversity in STEM fields. Which is, on the whole, good. But as a member of a minority community, these can often come across as botched jobs. Scientists are good at science, but not necessarily (or one might say not at all good) at sociology and psychology.

And it’s become tiring.

Here, dear reader, is a handy, easily digested checklist (because who in science doesn’t like checklists) for how not to completely miss the mark with whatever “diversity initiative” you might want to do. As you’ll see, these are all inter-related, and some/many of them aren’t easy or to be taken lightly.

1. What? What do you want to get out of this exercise, tangibly? Cut the vagueness. Make your objectives SMART. If you can’t articulate your goals in these terms, you’ll never achieve them (or be able to demonstrate beyond vague hand-waving that “things are better”). Are you trying to have better representation at conferences or on editorial boards? Or perhaps increased membership in your society by under-represented groups? The processes for achieving these will differ. See also: where?
2. Who? “Diversity” as usually applied in STEM fields typically covers sex and ethnicity. There are many facets of diversity, some of which can’t be perceived without interaction. Gender, orientation, and ableness are just three others that quickly come to mind. Each brings a different viewpoint. Or rather, the same multitude of viewpoints found in any grouping of people. And each of these is just a conglomeration of different groups. Gay men aren’t representative of transfolk, who aren’t representative of bisexuals. Which of these groups do you want to reach? See also: why? Also see also: what?
3. Where? The US isn’t the only place with issues around the over-representation of straight white cismen in STEM, and there are local (and regional) areas for improvement, laws, traditions, and solutions to the problems. Even though the pattern may be widespread, what works in one place may (or may not) work in another. Don’t parachute in. Work with someone on the ground (see also: who (part 2)).
4. Who? (part 2). Nothing dooms these kinds of initiatives like the lack of involvement of the groups you’re trying to reach. They will know the language and issues better, and excluding them is patronizing, like saying “we know diversity is an issue, so we’ll fix it for you!” Without this involvement your initiative is almost certainly doomed to failure.
5. Who? (part 3). If I had a dollar for every time I was asked to talk about “Diversity 101” I would have >$1. In this scenario, I should be broke. Do your research. Google is your friend. We’re (often) too busy trying to keep up with a systematically damaging professional culture to “point you in the right direction”. If you actually care about it, read about it or contact organizations who are explicitly designed to help, and then engage on specifics. See also: who (part 2). You might be getting the idea that people are rather important here. Good.
6. What (next)? Don’t just gather information, or email blitz a vague surveymonkey link to your members. What will you do once you’ve identified the problem/need? If you don’t do anything, or don’t follow through (see also: what), think of the potentially hours of collectively wasted time. I’ve filled in enough “it will only take 20-30 minutes of your time” surveys to know this is often true. And it makes me less likely to help you out in the future. Failure to do anything is paying mere lip-service to the careers and lives of honest to goodness people.
7. Danger, Will Robinson! Whatever you decide to do, think (and have others think) about how it will be perceived, especially by those in the group you’re trying to reach. Academic conferences get this one wrong rather often (I’m looking at you, ESA “Ally” ribbons!). Don’t roll something this important out without a thorough look-over. See also: who (part 2). Also see also: when?
8. When? Don’t rush this. It’s important. If you can’t get something together for this year’s meeting, wait for next year. Something good, but delivered later is better than a hatchet-job thrown together to meet an arbitrary deadline. I mean, you should’ve been thinking about and actually DOING something about this ages ago anyway.
9. Expect pushback. In all likelihood, if you get things (mostly) right, you will get pushback from the straight white cismen already entrenched in whatever group you’re trying to diversify. If you don’t, you might get pushback from the groups you’re trying to include. Listen to the second. See also: what (next).

Listing grants on one’s CV

Tags

CV, grants, polls

I was going through my semi-regular update of my CV because, frankly, if I don’t I won’t be able to keep track of everything! It’s as much for me as it is for others (and arguably more so these days).

Which got me thinking about grants, and how they’re recorded. On my CV, it’s a combination of year(s), project title, funding source, and grant amount. So far, all the grants that I’ve received have been one of two kinds:

1. a grant / award for which I was the only applicant, like my two postdoc grants
2. a grant where a small group (<5) of us wrote the application and got the funding

These have all been relatively small, bar our work on Northern Rockhopper Penguins, which was funded by the Darwin Initiative to the tune of £200,000, but where each of the five project partners is involved in just about everything. But as I progress, I expect more and more I’ll be just one part of a bigger piece of work. This inevitably leads to the question of how to list those grants.

I clearly didn’t have a hand in writing the whole grant, and would only be participating in a part of it (i.e., there will be funded activities and outcomes to which I know I won’t contribute, just because of the way the project was designed). So it seems disingenuous to list the full value of the grant (which, for these kinds of collaborative projects is likely to be in the £200,000-£1,000,000+ range). But equally, my specific part of the work package was part of the reason the project was funded.

So over to you, dear readers:

 

I’ll tally the results in a week or so.

 

Example interview questions in conservation

Tags

interviews, job applications, jobs

One of the things I tend to do a fair bit of is recruitment/hiring, usually for seasonal or short (<2 year) contracts. In the last two years, I’ve been involved in well over a dozen competitions as part of the interview or selection panel for what would be termed alt-ac or field tech science jobs.

Recently, several friends have asked for my advice on what to expect from an interview, so I thought it would be worth posting here. I’ve already written a bit geared towards applying for field jobs.

I’ll heavily caveat this, though – my take isn’t everyone’s take, and practices likely vary among (and even within!) organizations. Always remember to consider the albatross. And I’ll assume that you’ve already passed the hurdle of the paper application.

My general take is that if you’re being interviewed, chances are you tick all the basic boxes and the organization is at least considering hiring you. Basically, you meet all the technical requirements; the interview will be about how you approach problems, and other things that can’t be easily assessed on paper.

I always advise folks to think of the sorts of questions the interview panel is likely to ask, and how you might answer them.

Usually, there is some sort of fact-based questions pertinent to the job. For a recent post about marine protected areas (MPAs), we asked which international agreements/treaties were important for MPA designation. The purpose here is to see that you know your stuff (or at least where to look for it). The interview panel will likely have various keywords that they’re looking for here (or their general gists), so there can be a right/wrong answer.

There is often a problem solving part of the interview. “How would you do X”? These are almost always technical in nature, and interview panels will probably be looking for broad grasp of how you approach a problem. This could be analysis, data manipulation, supervision, … the content depends on what the job specification includes. No right/wrong answers here, but trying to understand how you might do in the work environment.

And there are usually a couple of more personal questions. Why did you apply for this job? What is your greatest strength? What is your greatest weakness? We ask these, or similar variations, almost every time. In these cases, there are no right or wrong answers, but are about seeing how your self-assessment might match up against what your referees might say about you (we often ask referees similar questions). Everyone has strengths and weaknesses, so the “I can’t think of any” cop-out isn’t advisable.

In all cases, look for “added value” – moving beyond the question to the next logical step. And if at all possible, use concrete examples of how you’ve done X (or similar to X) in the past successfully, e.g., “We did something similar in a recent paper…”. And in all cases, specific, tangible examples are to be encouraged (yay evidence!).

Lastly, we always give candidates an opportunity to ask questions of the panel, so it’s always good to prepare a few queries in a couple of areas – technical specifications about the job like start/decision dates, questions about resources available, like computing, employment policies and benefits, scope of the job and possibility of branching out, details about the ultimate goals or deliverables, etc.

As I said, these are highly directed towards those looking for work in the non-academic conservation sector, but some of the themes are likely to be broadly applicable based on my experiences in academia as well. And feel free to add your 2¢ in the comments below!

Writing retreats

Tags

hiking, writing

One of the things I certainly struggle with now that I’m in a job that involves managing people and programs as much as doing Actual Science™ is finding time to write. About 18 months ago, a colleague forwarded this post from Thesis Whisperer on how to write 10,000 words a day. The secret: turning off distractions, working in a mutually supportive group, and editing later. It’s called Shut Up And Write (or SUAW), because that’s what you do. We’ve merged it with the Pomodoro Technique, and do 25 minutes of writing, with a 5-10 minute break, and repeat 4 times in a morning or afternoon about once every 3 weeks.

But sometimes, that’s just not enough.

In 2015, we had a 6-month expedition to Henderson Island which generated a metric boatload of data. Now, 6 months after the expedition ended, we’d had a preliminary look through the data, and outlined what we thought were the sensible papers that would come out of the trip. We just needed to crunch some data and write some papers.

So I went hiking in Switzerland.

Well, I actually went to a friend’s house, where he, I, and another colleague spent about 2 weeks crunch data, writing papers, and hiking in the Alps and the countryside. We’d get up at about 0630, work for a bit, have breakfast, work for a bit more, and then head outside for 3 or 4 hours, work a bit before supper, and a bit after supper. We still put in at least 8 hours each day on “work”, recharge mid-day (often discussing results, angles for papers, strategies for analysis, and implications of findings along the way). And it was amazingly productive. The last time I had so many related papers in such an advanced stage of preparation (all are now just about complete first drafts for coauthors, if not further along) was in the heady days of my Ph.D.

Now, I realize that I was very lucky in that the only cost of doing this was a train ticket (along with the mental anguish of Paris’s Gare du Nord, and the occasional overly vocal football/soccer fan on the Eurostar), and my boss and workplace was also highly supportive of me basically putting my other work responsibilities largely on hold for 2 weeks (we had only intermittent email, and weren’t checking phones for messages). During my Ph.D. in Newfoundland, especially towards the end, I lamented that there wasn’t a nice saltbox in Trepassey where grad students could go and write up their theses.

So if you’re a PI or department head or anyone else who manages people who need concerted time to write, try Shut Up And Write, and throw in the occasional writing retreat. You might just be pleasantly surprised.