Robert B. Taylor - The Clinician's guide to Medical Writing.pdf

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The Clinician’s Guide to Medical Writing
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Table of Contents
Dedication
v
Preface
vii
About This Book
xiii
1 Getting Started in Medical Writing
1
2 Basic Writing Skills
29
3 From Page One to the End
61
4 Technical Issues in Medical Writing
85
5 What’s Special About Medical Writing?
105
6 How to Write a Review Article
127
7 Case Reports, Editorials, Letters to the Editor,
Book Reviews, and Other Publication Models
143
8 Writing Book Chapters and Books
167
9 How to Write a Report of a Clinical Study
195
10 Getting your Writing Published
213
Appendix 1 Glossary of Terms Used in Medical
Writing
247
Appendix 2 Commonly Used Proofreader’s Marks
253
Appendix 3 Commonly Used Medical Abbreviations 255
Appendix 4 Normal Laboratory Values for
Adult Patients
259
Index
263
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1
Getting Started in Medical Writing
Does being a clinician make you or me a capable medical
writer? No, it doesn’t, any more than being a physician qualifies
me to be a good stock picker, business manager, or even vaca-
tion planner. It only means that I have medical knowledge and
skills, and am trained to care for patients. On the other hand,
just because you are a clinician who sees patients daily does not
mean that you cannot become a capable, even great, writer.
Being that great writer requires knowledge, skill, experience,
the capacity to endure rejection, and a strong will to succeed.
The knowledge part includes both medical and “writing”
knowledge. Let us assume that, by virtue of your clinical prac-
tice, you have the medical knowledge. Then what you must
master are the body of information and the technical skills
that can help you become a great writer. You must know how
to assemble and use basic writing resources. You also need to
understand key issues in medical writing such as how to get
started and how to get finished, the various models of medical
writing, how to prepare a manuscript, and how to get your
work published. Acquiring this knowledge is no small task,
but it can be done.
Writing for the medical literature has its own special con-
siderations. Writing vibrant prose is not usually the key issue,
and at times may appear to be disadvantageous. Rew 1 has
written, “A fog has settled on scientific English. Well-written
English effortlessly communicates the writer’s intent to the
reader. Unfortunately, far too often, science is written in a form
that renders the content hard to understand, and which makes
unreasonable demands on the reader.” It seems that many
medical articles, notably reports of clinical research studies,
are written to be published and cited, but not to be read. I
hope that you and I can aspire to a higher level of writing skill,
and that editors and readers will appreciate the enhanced
readability of our work.
1
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2 GETTING STARTED IN MEDICAL WRITING
The ability to endure rejection is a must. I began medical
writing in the early 1970s while in small-town private practice.
I had some early success in conducting clinical studies and
seeing the results in print in respected journals. I also wrote
some articles for controlled circulation, advertiser-supported
journals. Not everything I wrote was published. I also began
writing health books for nonmedical people, what the editors
call the “lay audience.” Here I collected so many rejection letters
that I could have wallpapered a room with them. Only when I
began writing and editing medical books did my acceptance
rate become favorable. However, after 30 years of medical
writing experience, I still receive rejections for clinical papers,
editorials, and book proposals. And, yes, it still hurts.
If you aspire to be a medical writer you will need determi-
nation. Being a writer takes a lot of work and you really need
to want it. But if you develop the itch to write, it can only be
relieved by the scratch of the pen—or today by the click of the
computer keyboard. If you begin to see yourself as a writer
working on a project, as I am working on this book today,
then you will think about the project whenever you have a
spare moment, and as ideas occur, you will jot them on a scrap
of paper, index card, or personal digital assistant. You will
record the concept or phrase when and where you can, just
so it doesn’t get away, because that is what writers do.
WHY WE WRITE
For years I have periodically conducted writing workshops
for clinicians. Conducting writing workshops, of course, guar-
antees an audience that is self-selected to be more interested
in writing than those in competing workshops on how to per-
form a better hemorrhoidectomy or how to manage one’s
office practice. Generally, most of the participants are previ-
ously published medical authors, at least to some degree. Each
of these workshops begins with the same question: Why do
we write? The answers, while diverse, tend to be the same
in each workshop, and are listed in Table 1.1. I am going to
discuss a few of these.
First, let’s discuss and dismiss the final entry on
the list—earn income. Medical writing is not lucrative.
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WHY WE WRITE 3
T ABLE 1.1. Reasons why we write
Gain intellectual stimulation
Share ideas
Report research
Express an opinion
Generate discussion
Advance one’s discipline
Assert “ownership” of a topic
Attain promotion/tenure
Report a case
Enhance one’s personal reputation
Achieve some small measure of immortality by publishing our ideas
Earn income
Advertiser-supported publications (more about them later)
often pay a few hundred dollars for an article. Book royalties
are generally meager; after all, the audience of clinicians who
might buy your book is small. Book chapters, editorial, and
research reports pay nothing and are written for other reasons.
If your goal is wealth, you should add more clinical hours to
your schedule or buy stocks that go up—anything but medical
writing.
What about the other reasons? For those in academic medi-
cine, promotion and tenure are very important, and publica-
tions are the key to success. As medical schools become
increasingly dependent on clinicians seeing patients for eco-
nomic survival, it would seem that this clinical effort would be
rewarded with the carrots of career achievement—promotion
to the next rank and, where applicable, tenured faculty posi-
tions. In 1988, a study at Johns Hopkins Medical School
reported, “Those who were promoted had had about twice as
many articles published in peer-reviewed journals as those
who were not promoted.” 2 I have not seen a recent similar
study, but my academic colleagues do not tell me that anything
has changed, and an academic faculty member who bets his
or her career on advancement without publications is taking
a dangerous path. Yet some seem to be doing so.
I tell young faculty that, as a broad generalization, it takes
at least two publications a year to be considered as “satisfac-
tory” in scholarly activity when it comes time for promotion.
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