By Allison Hidalgo, Geology
It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when I started to feel like a scientist. Maybe it was during my first upper-level lab course in college, or the summer after my freshman year when I did research for the first time. Perhaps it was when I finally completed my first research project and presented it at a national conference. One thing is certain, though: I clearly remember the first time I was taught to write an effective scientific paper. It was a group project, during my sophomore year of undergrad, in my geochemistry course on turf impacts on soil and water conditions. My group had spent the semester planning our project, collecting data, and analyzing samples until it was finally time to start writing our paper. I had been tasked with writing the methods section. Straightforward and simple, I thought. I remember showing my draft to my groupmate, Alicia Nguyen, a junior at the time, who was working on a different section. She glanced at my work and said it wasn’t bad but that she had a few suggestions. I watched as she red-lined and commented on almost every sentence of my first paragraph. I felt a mix of emotions: hurt, because I thought I had done a good job; appreciative, because she cared enough to help me refine my work; and confused, because I had followed the guidelines we’d been given.
Now, as I start my master’s program, I can reflect on a few things about scientific writing that I wish someone had told me, and that I now try to share with my students.
Reading guidelines isn’t enough to write an effective scientific paper.
Guidelines tell you what belongs in each section, but they rarely show you tone, tense, or style, all of which are just as important. They don’t explain what makes a figure or figure caption clear to a new reader.
To write a good paper, you first have to read good papers.
Over time, by reading widely, you start to recognize formatting conventions, disciplinary tone, and best practices such as figure sizing, caption length, and how much background to include.
Don’t bury the lead.
By the time I was a senior, I had become the upper-class student other group members turned to for guidance on designing projects, writing proposals, and producing long reports. When I looked over my partners’ drafts, I often found myself asking “Why?” What felt obvious to me, how to order sections, how to state findings with certainty, how to avoid “we think,” or how to keep jargon to a minimum, wasn’t obvious to them. These things are difficult to teach and even, at times, difficult to practice. It’s easy to get lost in the weeds. More isn’t always better; focus and clarity matter most.
Peer review.
As I’ve begun giving feedback to students in my writing-intensive course, I’ve modeled it on the feedback my professors gave me. The goal isn’t to mark up every sentence or show students everything they did “wrong,” but to highlight areas for growth and explain why a change might help. As a student, I used to dread peer review sessions because they often felt unhelpful and time consuming. Now, sitting on the other side of the table, I see how powerful peer review can be when it’s done thoughtfully.
I’ve learned there’s a big difference between peer review and simple editing: editing corrects grammar and mechanics, while peer review engages with ideas, structure, and clarity to help the writer strengthen their argument.
This is a distinction I try to teach my students, and one I’m still practicing myself as I move through my master’s program. Reflecting on these experiences, I can see how much my approach to writing and to teaching writing has changed. I’ve moved from simply following rules to thinking about purpose, audience, and clarity. I’ve also learned that the process of writing, drafting, receiving feedback, and revising are just as important as the final product. Now, when I receive feedback, I’m no longer hurt or confused; I see it as an opportunity to grow. Alicia and I went on to take several more classes together and write several more papers. I still remember our last paper in our Petroleum course in which during peer review she had only minor, if any, suggestions for my sections, and I felt accomplished. Alicia is now a PhD student at Stanford University, and I’m deeply grateful I had someone like her to guide me in learning how to write an effective paper. I hope to be that same kind of support and resource for the students I work with.