Restless
Do you remember the first draft of a manuscript that I finished just before leaving for Germany? Well, I got some comments back from my co-authors and have started working on Draft 2.
The comments I received were incredibly constructive and will help improve the paper. I'm not sure if this paper is better than ones I've written before or if I'm just getting a thicker skin, but my co-authors this time weren't nearly as critical as I expected. I've realized over the past few years that I need to see paper drafts as predecessors to the end product, rather than seeing later drafts as just altered, sometimes mutilated versions of previous drafts. That's a subtle but important reversal in thinking: I have to see the final version of the paper as the true, ultimate version rather than treating the first draft this way. I have to treat all preceding drafts as mere stepping stones. It's so easy to get bogged down by criticism, even if it's constructive, so I find that if I view my manuscript as a work in progress, the whole process is a lot smoother.
Receiving criticism is a regular part of the scientific process. Actually, I doubt most people realize how much editing goes into each scientific publication. Before an article goes to press, it has to be approved by all co-authors, usually 3-4 reviewers, and an editor. My article is still in the early stages, so it will pass through many more hands before finally being published.
Right now, I find myself getting restless and a little impatient. I have to re-do part of the analysis, improve the figures, and re-work the text of the manuscript. My impatience stems from the fact that all this work takes time, and even though I can conceptualize the improved version in my head, it's still going to take a while to get there. The restlessness comes from a desire for greatness: I want more than anything to write a quality paper, to contribute something important and new to man's understanding of the ocean. Some days I doubt I'll ever make a substantial contribution; other days, I'm more sure of myself.
I still can't say what this paper will ultimately contribute to the field of science or if it will even be cited. That all remains to be determined as I re-work and mold the analysis, making it more like its final version. I don't know how it will end up, but for now, I chug away at Draft 2.
The comments I received were incredibly constructive and will help improve the paper. I'm not sure if this paper is better than ones I've written before or if I'm just getting a thicker skin, but my co-authors this time weren't nearly as critical as I expected. I've realized over the past few years that I need to see paper drafts as predecessors to the end product, rather than seeing later drafts as just altered, sometimes mutilated versions of previous drafts. That's a subtle but important reversal in thinking: I have to see the final version of the paper as the true, ultimate version rather than treating the first draft this way. I have to treat all preceding drafts as mere stepping stones. It's so easy to get bogged down by criticism, even if it's constructive, so I find that if I view my manuscript as a work in progress, the whole process is a lot smoother.
Receiving criticism is a regular part of the scientific process. Actually, I doubt most people realize how much editing goes into each scientific publication. Before an article goes to press, it has to be approved by all co-authors, usually 3-4 reviewers, and an editor. My article is still in the early stages, so it will pass through many more hands before finally being published.
Right now, I find myself getting restless and a little impatient. I have to re-do part of the analysis, improve the figures, and re-work the text of the manuscript. My impatience stems from the fact that all this work takes time, and even though I can conceptualize the improved version in my head, it's still going to take a while to get there. The restlessness comes from a desire for greatness: I want more than anything to write a quality paper, to contribute something important and new to man's understanding of the ocean. Some days I doubt I'll ever make a substantial contribution; other days, I'm more sure of myself.
I still can't say what this paper will ultimately contribute to the field of science or if it will even be cited. That all remains to be determined as I re-work and mold the analysis, making it more like its final version. I don't know how it will end up, but for now, I chug away at Draft 2.
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