Overcoming Perfectionism: Creating Space for Influence 

Allison LoPilato, PhD

I confess, I am a perfectionist who regularly practices unproductive perfectionism.  Here’s how it manifests itself in my writing. I have a well ingrained habit of holding on to my drafts until they are 95% done and close to the deadline.  As a result, I engage in near pathological levels of perservation—easily spending 3 hours rewriting a single paragraph. I spend days going down thePubMed rabbit hole, convinced I need to read every article on the subject before I can write. 

This habit has been highly reinforced over the years. In graduate school, drafts of papers, theses, and my dissertation came back with virtually no changes and a “Wow, looks ready to go!”. The truth is, what I presented as my “1st draft” was more like my 10th. I had a reputation for being a good writer and worried that an unpolished draft might tarnish my image. So,while I knew this writing habit was dysfunctional, it was hard to quit. 

If spending too much of my precious time was the only consequence, I probably wouldn’t have had enough motivation to change. I teach my patients that behavioral change requires 3 things: awareness, capability, and willingness. I was acutely aware this was a problem and was certainly capable of doing things differently. But I wasn’t willing to change. The fear of showing others the earlier versions of my work stopped me from following all the advice outlined in the academic writing books and blogs I frantically consumed. My process was miserable, but it was mine. 

Then, while writing my K grant application, I had an epiphany. Out of sheer necessity, and part desperation, I had to share my ‘in progress’ workearly on and regularly. Although I was aware that my habit wasted a lot of time and created personal suffering, I hadn’t fully appreciated how much it was actually limiting the quality of my work.

By holding back drafts I missed opportunities for early feedback that could reshape my ideas while they were still developing. I missed the chance to incorporate other perspectives that I hadn’t thought of myself. I missed the clarity and reframing that comes from someone who’s not in the weeds or in the discipline. And by waiting to share drafts so close to a deadline, everything seemed set and there wasn’t a real invitation to influence and improve. 

Once I became brave enough to take early feedback, I also realized the value of sharing with a diverse audience. While I primarily circulated my work with my mentor or fellow lab mates, I rarely had people outside of my bubble . This narrow focus similarly created more missed opportunities. 

Sharing my true “in progress” drafts of my K application with a wider crew lead to work that was far stronger, clearer,  and more compelling than I could have produced in the bubble.

The Non-Academic  – I enlisted my youngerbrother, an MBA/MPA graduate student, who is a talented writer, thinker and communicator. After an initial read of my application materials, he simply replied “Geez, I hate how you academics write. This is so boring to read.”  He was right. He quickly marked up my documents without any attention to the actual science. Instead, he focused bringing the story to life through the structure and organization. He wanted any reader to be easily ushered through the application. He stamped out all jargon, long sentences, and “pretentious”/unnecessary synonyms (ahem ‘elucidate’). His edits helped me develop a clearer narrative that provided a new framework for the rest of my application. The writing was cleaner and punchier, even though I secretly worried it felt less “academic”. 

The Co-Mentor – I turned to one of my application co-mentor’s for additional feedback. He was honest and direct with me in ways no one had ever been.While this took an initial adjustment, it quickly made me regret all the ways I’d shielded myself from feedback to date. I was learning so much from his feedback and it was making the work substantially better. As an expert in the area, he was able to help me sharpen my scientific questions and hypothesis. He helped me correct my course when I’d gotten toobogged down in the weeds. And because I shared early (although admittedly, it could have been earlier), I had time to make these corrections. I also realized that mentors want to be given the chance to mentor. While I held back in the past fearing judgement, the process strengthened our professional relationship and the ability to collaborate that will be critical to our ongoing work together.

The Grant Writer – I reached out to a grant writer who’d graciously offered to look over my materials. Her initial email in response to a Specific Aims draft (that my mentors said looked done) read, “This needs work. I’m worried this is terribly specific.” As someone not familiar with our research, the work seemed abstract and lacked context. I’d made assumptions about what people may know or think is important based on my bubble (i.e., doesn’t everyone agree computational approaches are the way forward?). Her edits helped me broaden and contextualize my research to speak to a wider audience. Sometimes the suggestions she gave me were at direct odds with my mentor’s input, but having both allowed me to create a synthesis. 

The Grad School Friend – I also turned to mytrusted friend from graduate school, a talented and prolific researcher. While she didn’t know my area of research, she was in the field, which provided a sweet spot. As a knowledgeable (but not expert)reader, she aptly highlighted were ideas needed to be restated more clearly, and where certainconnections in the rationale were missing for someone unfamiliar with the literature.  Her edits weren’t extensive, but they were so well focused in key places that they helped bring everything together. 

I’m proud of the application I ultimately submitted. It wouldn’t have been as strong without the feedback from these key players at a time when I could act on their input. Even if I don’t get the grant, the process created the motivation to push past the fears that fueled my perfectionistic tendencies. It’s given me the willingness I needed to make real change and to create space for influence by sharing my writing early, often, and with a diverse audience. 

Where do I begin? Transitioning from the clinical to the academic world

Where do I begin? For the past 14 years I’ve worked in a clinical capacity. The clinical milieu became natural to me. Sitting across individuals helping them navigate the stickiness of life.  The clinical setting is where I thrive. Even through the most challenging clinical cases, I am usually reminded why I chose this field and why this field chose me. I won’t lie there have been some academic musings throughout my clinical career. Moments of “what would that look like?” So when an opportunity to join the academic world was presented to me I immediately went into self-doubt mode but my doubts relaxed when I had the safety net of being able to continue my clinical work. In the back of my head I knew I would be challenged taking on this new role and eventually flung into academic writing. Honestly, I craved the opportunity.

Where do I even begin? Fortunately, this is where I begin. Writing about how it feels to take the leap and make the shift. For some it’s natural but for me a bit scary. Scary in a good way is the only way I can describe this new chapter in my career. I think earlier in my career writing seemed so intimidating. The lady in the Starbucks engrossed in her next novel. The guy fretting over his new screenplay. They both looked so determined and confident. There have been moments when I would occasionally dabble in writing for fun. Maybe start a blog on palliative care, complaining about raising teens, or surviving menopause. You know, write about things that permeate my world in real time. Unfortunately, the distractions would come, work, teens, hot flashes or just life in general.

So, I’ve decided to adopt a different approach to writing and now whenever I have the opportunity no matter the context, I just write. It doesn’t have to be the next great thing.  Plus, I had to tell myself that girl in Starbucks could have been questioning her writing abilities and losing focus as she smiled sipping her macchiato. That guy could easily be doubting his self and on his eighth draft and eighth expresso after seven rejections.  

So here I am sitting in an overpriced coffee shop sipping on a $7 soy latte and yelling in my head, “where do I even begin?”  I think a recipe for my adventure into academic writing is to first surround myself with those that get that THIS IS NOT EASY.  Second, remind myself that I have a voice. Although historically I’ve excelled at expressing myself vocally, it’s now time to challenge myself.  I do have a voice. Now it’s time to express it by putting pin to pad. I’ve wasted a lot of time thinking about where to begin. So now I just need to begin and then work through the kinks later. Clinical work involves planning and coordinating thoughts and ideas to present to my patients in a way that helps them grow. I meld CBT with interpersonal styles that promote encouragement and forward movement. I get excited when the patient can see the possibilities and begin to move in the direction they want.  So, this is where I begin. Plan and coordinate ideas that will help me grow as a writer. See the possibilities and begin to move in a direction by writing what I know. It will flow but first I have to begin.

Stella D. Nelms, Ph.D.

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.

Right... when?: Finding time to write when you have a million other things to do

Face it, anyone who has to write, has tried to write, and has written knows what this post is about.  Life in it's many forms has an interesting way of disrupting writing endeavors.  The past two weeks have been particularly brutal with work demands (both expected and unexpected), family responsibilities (both expected and unexpected), and everything in between (home, car, physical) making writing virtually impossible.  I wrote OTHER things (emails, texts, notes, announcements, power point presentations) but not what I tasked myself to write.  I tell myself that if I can figure out how to do all of these OTHER things, I can also write.  My writing group has discussed several activities that have worked for them and I try to implement them in my world as well.  Unfortunately, my world just doesn't always seem to want to comply.  What has worked for others?  1) Carving out time that is dedicated only to writing.  I have a lofty goal of 30 minutes daily, however, I find that 3 times per week is a bit more realistic. The challenge is when and where this takes place (In the morning before work begins? During lunch? In the evening after life quiets down?).  Frankly, the opportunity varies and external realities DO exist.  That said, having a structured plan does help.  This includes putting that designated time allotment along with location, into your calendar and commit to sticking to it for at least 2 weeks.  By taking a scientific approach: commit, track, and assess, you may be able to overcome LIFE. 2) Accountability partnering to track writing goals.  This has definitely worked for me.  I can truly say that NONE of my writing would have taken place had it not been for my Writing group and accountability partner. 3) Take time to analyze what is getting in the way of writing.  Is it something practical?  Technology does hinder progress at times.  If you know you don't have access to reliable internet, computer/laptop, and etc. in certain locations, consider waiting until you are able to get to a place where you are able fully focus on writing.  I say this because sometimes I consider writing while I am waiting for the kid at dance, swimming, and other lessons.  Wi-fi is not always available and I don't relish the thought of using my cellphone's personal hotspot capability.   Is it something personal? Are you your own worst critic?  Do you have Imposter syndrome?  Are you a perfectionist? This is where the accountability partnering and support comes into play.  You are not the only one who has these experiences.  After my ONLY first authored publication, I admittedly worry about being a one hit wonder.  Having my partner and group ensures that I keep it moving! Lastly, are there external realities outside of your control?  Understanding and keeping in mind that if you are doing the best you can, attending to those external realities without getting derailed is OK.  Taking the time you need to manage LIFE and approach writing mindfully will guarantee progress.

Ghost Writing… It’s a thing: when should you agree to ghost writers managing your article

During one of our writing groups, the topic of ghost writing came up.  I had no idea that this was even "a thing" within the world of academic writing.  Ghostwriting is at the most basic level not crediting an individual(s) who contributed to a written manuscript.  It can take many forms and may be based on the noted author's ideas and words, the author's ideas and the ghost writer's words, or soley on the ghost writer's words and ideas.  It made sense on one hand, when considering transforming an academic article into a mainstream one.  In that case, similar to "legalese", the information may need to be translated from an academic perspective to a layperson one.  However, it still seems a bit questionable to me.  My limited publishing experience also limits my perspective in this regard so I researched a bit from both the ghostwriter's and academic writer's perspectives and found some interesting articles/blogs.  Here are a few links:

https://www.insidehighered.com/blogs/sounding-board/ethics-authorship-ghostwriting-plagiarism#.VOzefj0XUZQ.twitter

https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007%2Fs12115-011-9455-2#page-2

https://raventools.com/blog/truth-about-ghostwriting/

https://www.nature.com/news/mystery-over-obesity-fraud-1.13810

I would love to hear other's thoughts about this!