It can often feel as though a career in science is defined by sacrifice. Your school friends may quickly become upwardly mobile while you remain overqualified, stressed, and underpaid [1][2]. You work late evenings and weekends, as and when experiments dictate and/or your supervisor demands. Permanent employment is rare, and in many cases, no grant means no job [2].
A PhD is not the guaranteed ticket to an academic career that it once appeared to be. Anyone entering the field of research should understand that, in the absence of a fortunate bull’s-eye, for example, selecting a subject just as it captures public attention, it takes blood, sweat, and tears to achieve that truly novel ‘find’ (and perhaps that coveted Nature or Science paper) [3]. Those lucky few may receive fellowships, PI grants, and lectureships, though even that is no longer assured [2][4]. The rest, the faceless postdocs, grind out a career until they become too expensive, uncomfortably senior, and ultimately difficult to place. A fortunate minority may secure a lectureship after 15 years on the merry-go-round, although postdoctoral jobs have long been regarded as training posts for academia [2].
Posts to study for a PhD tend to be short-term and highly competitive. Successful candidates are often required to move far from their family and friends, or even to another country. Indeed, experience in multiple laboratories, ideally in several countries, is frequently viewed as a prerequisite for securing a permanent position [1]. As the number of doctorate holders worldwide continues to grow, many PhD graduates find the process ever more challenging in an environment where opportunities become fewer and farther between [5].
You do not easily forget the sinking feeling as the end of your contract approaches. What is the chance of further funding? Will my grant application be successful? Will I have to apply for another job? To add to these pressures, the postdoctoral period often coincides with the stage of life when non-scientific peers begin settling down, getting a mortgage, and starting a family [2]. You find yourself in poorly paid ‘training posts’, unable to buy a house, save for retirement, or comfortably support a family. For those who completed undergraduate degrees in countries where higher education increasingly depends on student debt, the outlook can feel bleak. Settling that debt becomes nearly impossible while continuing in serial postdoctoral positions [6].
Funding from research councils or charities for postdoctoral research is often associated with guidelines that emphasise the importance of career development. However, these are not always followed, often because supervisors receive little management training and have limited time for the career development of others [7]. The 2015 report Career Tracking of Doctorate Holders cautioned that the current system is unsustainable, highlighting a labour market saturated with highly qualified candidates [1]. The consequence is insecure employment and rising dissatisfaction and stress among postdoctoral researchers [2].
With the growing realisation that a future in academia may be unlikely, candidates often begin to feel they have failed, that by ‘moving on’ and changing direction they are somehow leaving science behind. Considering society invests heavily in developing their skills, one cannot help but question whether we are wasting a valuable resource [5].
This is much how I felt two decades ago after several years of postdoc-ing. I was faced with the prospect of a change in research focus and the redirection of grants, it was all too much. I moved into the commercial arena.
I first tried medical communications, or ‘medcomms,’ where I found that the skills I had developed in research transferred naturally to creating communications for the pharmaceutical industry, fluently speaking the language of academic leaders and experts [8]. The first invaluable skill I noticed was an ability to converse with fellow scientists on their level, beyond that of account managers, ‘creatives,’ and self-appointed ‘ideas’ men. I could appreciate the underlying science, discuss it as an equal, and suggest imaginative ways to address issues.
I could draw insights from academic researchers and help them share their learning in unfamiliar commercial settings. Postdocs naturally know how to consider large amounts of data and think critically about it [8]. They are also used to reading and digesting scientific sources, extracting the most important elements, and presenting them in ways that are easy to understand. These skills can bring complex ideas to life for people who might otherwise struggle to visualise them. Lastly, writing grants, abstracts, posters, and articles had taught me how to quickly compile documents that are organised, clear, and rich in useful information [8].
I realised that although I was using many of these skills, it was not providing me with fulfilment. Although science was a component of the job, it was often treated merely as raw material, minimally respected and processed with little love and less appreciation. The approach was that of a production line, and I was simply another cog in the wheel.
It was, in fact, turning out to be the worst of all worlds, I had left research behind and was simply processing science as a commodity. I felt there must be a better approach, and 18 years ago I founded Niche Science & Technology Ltd. My goal was to create a business where scientists could work on scientific projects in a setting that retained the intellectual atmosphere of a university.
At Niche, we have built a dedicated group of people focused on applying the skills they have developed over many years. Company meetings and water-cooler interactions often revolve around fun, fulfilment, and black holes. We focus on giving clients what they need, not necessarily what they ask for, while helping team members achieve their goals.
We are only a small organisation, though always seeking exceptional people. Despite our size (and the ever-present need to pay our mortgages), we are more than ever involved in cutting-edge science. In addition to holding multimillion-Euro research grants with both the European Union and the UK Medical Research Council, we have worked on projects ranging from gene therapy to severe asthma, frailty prediction, malaria, and haemophilia.
The take-home message, for those facing yet another round of self-reinvention and CV manipulation, is that there are careers where you can remain ‘in science’, achieve financial security, and earn the respect of colleagues in a stimulating and nurturing environment [3][8]. There is a future for those who perceive joining the ranks of market analysts, pharmaceutical industry professionals, or medical writers as a ‘second-place’ option. These are not departures from science, but extensions of it.
Observations from a New Medical Writer
When I started a Master’s programme at Imperial College London, my interest in science came back to life. I had a great year and decided that study was my calling. I imagined saving the world by making important discoveries over the course of my life. This was my goal when I started my PhD.
Things went well at first, and I quickly became an independent researcher who tested my own ideas and generated interesting results. I felt confident enough in my subject to challenge more experienced colleagues. I soon gathered enough information to write my first first-author paper.
It was not the process of submission and rejection that made me give up. It was seeing how hopeless my coworkers became after rejection. What hurt me was my pride — and I quickly recovered. But for everyone else, including my supervisor, it was much worse. For him, a rejected manuscript threatened future funding and, by extension, his job [2].
I saw how fragile the current system was. To succeed, you often needed to work on fashionable topics or with a professor who had become a ‘big name,’ by chance, by timing, or by self-promotion [3]. Over the next 2 years, I watched many promising scientists shift from being rising stars to struggling for career survival.
This made me realise that success in science would not depend solely on hard work, creativity, or dedication. Luck played a larger role than I had expected [3]. If I was not fortunate, I would eventually join the growing pool of unemployed scientists, except that by then my added experience would simply make me more expensive. It felt as though I was giving up on my dreams, and that was heartbreaking.
Learning that biological scientists could continue working in science while using the skills gained during their PhD was transformative. Medical writing had not occurred to me as a career choice, and some colleagues voiced doubts. But I quickly realised it was something I was good at, that it was enjoyable and satisfying, and most importantly, that it marked the beginning of a stable and rewarding career in an intellectually stimulating field [8].
At Niche, you are genuinely valued for the skills and ideas you bring to the table. Good work is essential to our progress, and I am glad that my efforts are recognised and rewarded.
References
- Phillips S, Scholz B, Nogueira MM, Heywood-Roos R, Kranz A. Career Tracking of Doctorate Holders. European Science Foundation; 2015.
- Woolston C. A love–hurt relationship. Nature. 2016;550:549–552.
- Powell K. Young researchers thrive in life after academia. Nature. 2016;537:585–587.
- Stephan P. How Economics Shapes Science. Cambridge (MA): Harvard University Press; 2012.
- Cyranoski D, Gilbert N, Ledford H, Nayar A, Yahia M. Education: The PhD factory. Nature. 2011;472:276–279.
- Ehrenberg RG, Zuckerman H, Groen JA, Brucker SM. Educating Scholars: Doctoral Education in the Humanities. Princeton University Press; 2010.
- Fuhrmann CN, Halme DG, O’Sullivan PS, Lindstaedt B. Improving graduate education to support a branching career pipeline. CBE Life Sci Educ. 2011;10(3):239–249.
- Sinche M, Layton RL, Brandt PD, O’Connell AB, Hall JD, Freeman AM, et al. An evidence-based evaluation of transferrable skills and job satisfaction for science PhDs. PLoS One. 2017;12(9):e0185023.
