Branching Out into Academic Writing: A Clinician's Perspective

In my professional life, I write. A lot. As a clinical psychologist who conducts psychological assessments of children, writing takes up most of my work time. For each child I evaluate, I write a report that is between 10 and 20 pages long. Even when not technically sitting in front of a computer composing a report, I am writing in my head, i.e., thinking about how to share information in a way that is meaningful to parents while also effectively documenting the child’s needs for school and/or mental health professionals.

In addition to my own writing, I supervise clinical psychology interns who are honing their assessment skills, which involves time editing their reports and helping them effectively communicate the story of the child they are assessing. Most of my supervisees come into their assessment training seeing it as a “necessary evil” – a box they must check as part of their internship experience, but not something they plan to continue to do with any regularity in their professional lives. Why is that? Most balk at the writing demands inherent in the career of an assessment psychologist. When I start each group of trainees, I joke with them that my goal by the end of the year is to have each of them dislike assessment (and really report-writing) a little less.

I have always found the interns’ consistent fear and loathing of writing somewhat puzzling, because for me, writing assessment reports is a meaningful and welcome activity. First, it provides a welcome respite from the demands of face-to-face clinical work. I appreciate the opportunity report writing affords me to quietly and carefully dig deep and think through things - in contrast to the quick-thinking, “on your feet” style of work inherent in psychotherapy. There is also something about the writing process that helps me consider assessment results more thoroughly. Sometimes after starting to pull the pieces together in a report, I find that my conceptualization of the case shifts a bit – in the process of writing a child’s story, the overall picture becomes clearer.

In sum, writing has always been a bit part of my professional identity. Although there are moments that I bemoan all the reports I must get through, I enjoy writing, and have developed strategies to maximize efficiency, avoid procrastination, and communicate in a meaningful and clear way.

Things shifted for me roughly seven years ago, when my career track changed as the result of a cross-state family move. I moved from a workplace with job responsibilities that were purely clinical to an academic medical center, which had greater demands for involvement in research and scholarly pursuits. Suddenly, I felt out of my element. Although I attended a graduate program that embraced the scientist-practitioner model, my training and focus throughout graduate school, internship, post-doc, and my 13-year career prior to my move had been nearly totally focused on clinical work. The thought of branching out into academic writing was a whole new ball game – one that was quite intimidating.

Rather fortuitously, two opportunities presented themselves – at nearly the same time – that helped build my confidence in myself as someone who could be more than a “clinical” writer. First, one of my colleagues sent me an email about a post he had seen on a psychology listserv: one requesting authors for topics for an online academic encyclopedia. One of the articles was on a topic that I knew very well – a specialty I had developed in the first 13 years of my career. Rather impulsively (before I could talk myself out of it!), I decided to throw my hat into the ring, and my offer to write the article was accepted.

At nearly the same time, I learned of a newly-starting writing group, open to individuals across my department. The purpose of the group was to help its members set academic writing goals and provide support and accountability for meeting those goals. I initially felt a little unsure about whether I should join; I worried whether my small goals would pale in comparison to the “real” academic writers and researchers that would surely be in the group. I worried that I might find myself in above my head – perhaps even embarrassingly so. Despite these anxieties – actually because of them – I knew the right thing to do was to push forward and commit to the group.

Now two years later, I am happy to share my experience in the group has been so much better and so much more than I anticipated. Knowing that I would need to report to the group each month helped me keep on track with the encyclopedia article, which I am happy to report was published earlier this year. I have learned from – and felt supported by – group members with more accomplished publishing histories, and I have been encouraged to discover other colleagues who are, like me, just trying to get their “feet wet” in the world of academic publishing.  I received advice and guidance about managing the work-life-writing balance, and in those months where I did not meet my writing goals, I was met with understanding and supportive encouragement that helped me get back on track. Being part of the writing group has helped me begin to shift my own conceptualization of myself in my career. Though clinical work and clinical writing is still how I want to spend most of my working hours, I see a place for academic writing in my career – and better yet, I believe that I can do it.

In sum, if you – like me – are primarily a clinician who would like to branch out into research and/or academic writing, here is what I recommend:

• Find a writing group, or a small group of colleagues who can help support you, encourage you, and keep you on track.
• Keep your eyes open for opportunities – even small ones – that get you writing. Your goal does not need to be getting into a top-tier journal!
• Jump into those opportunities that present themselves – don’t overthink, and don’t give into imposter syndrome.
• Be disciplined about setting aside time to write. Procrastination takes root when projects seem too big. Break things down; figure out a doable goal, even if that goal is tiny. Committing to writing for just 10 minutes a day is better than not writing at all!

Happy writing!

Julie F. Pace, Ph.D.