25 Jan 1995, The Daily Telegraph

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By Prof Steve Jones

THE BEST way to write science is to read fiction. In other words, the rules for the scientific author are just as easy - and just as fiendishly difficult - as those for someone who sets out to create the novel, biography or sex manual of the century. For aspiring writers there is only one useful piece of advice, first given long ago: use the best possible words in the best possible order.

To learn how to do that, look not at science - the main job of which is to generate ideas, not to communicate - but at literature. I almost never read science for relaxation. It seems a contradiction in terms, a busman's holiday. To unwind, I go for biography, travel or novels (as well as spending a quite unreasonable amount of time reading newspapers).

To count the thousands of hours I have spent over the Guardian and The Daily Telegraph during the past 30 years fills me with horror. But - at least, so I flatter myself - some of the form, if not the content, of all those millions of forgotten words has rubbed off. Most people who share the same unhealthy habit can, when pushed (or paid), turn a sentence or two. In that statement lies perhaps the most important qualification for becoming an author - without reading for pleasure, it is impossible to write for profit.

Of course, some scientists read to relax; but many do not. They are not in the business of producing ephemera for the public, but of doing research. They put pen to paper only to publish their results in the technical literature. Anyone who is on the editorial board of a scientific journal has seen their manuscripts. They add new meaning to the term "English as a foreign language". Their authors have obviously never read anything but science in their lives - and it shows.

For some reason, Americans are the worst offenders. Perhaps it is all those compulsory courses in Creative Writing that do the damage. For someone without an interest in literature they are as much use as classes in musical appreciation for the deaf. Now and again a brilliant scientist who is far too busy to read the daily press tries to popularise his work, and almost without exception fails.

It seems an obvious thing to say - but it is worth saying: if you don't read the papers, don't go into journalism. Good science writing must stand on its merits as prose before it can explain anything. The evidence is everywhere.

Inevitably, as an evolutionist, I turn to Darwin and his successors. Plain, straightforward and assured, Darwin's writing is like a Victorian country house. It radiates confidence from whatever direction it is viewed - as prose or as brilliant science.

Darwin, of course, had a classical education, and it shows. Comparing his writings with those of some modern authors provides important lessons for science writing.

Never use a long word when a short one will do. Given the choice, choose one with an Anglo-Saxon rather than a Latin root. Use the active rather than the passive voice. Cut down on the adjectives and kill the superlatives. To quote Samuel Johnson's college tutor: "Read over your compositions and wherever you meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out." That, then, is the form of good science writing.

What about the content? Its great successes over the past few years have concentrated on a remarkably small range of topics. One group involves Deaths and Entrances. The beginning - or the end - of the universe, the rain forest or the human species is guaranteed to sell, and from Stephen Hawking to Richard Leakey it does. The other great marketing ploy is The Joy of Gender. From Selfish Genes to Manwatching, a great boost on the way to fame is to explain why people act the way they do, particularly in the mating game. Brief histories of consciousness have done well recently; but they are really just a subset of Why Men Behave Badly.

Many of these books are believed by the buyers (if not by their authors) to provide the one thing that science cannot - an explanation of the meaning of life. If you can find another way at hinting at the same thing (I certainly can't), you will surely succeed. The rules that apply to books do so just as much to shorter pieces - although there is obviously a limit to the amountof Meaning that can be squeezed into 2,000 words. It is also true that the life sciences particularly are the most over-reported areas, perhaps because they are among the easiest to understand.

There are large areas that await the journalistic explorer - the farther reaches of maths and physics, among many others. These may best be surveyed by someone who is not a specialist and can steer clear of the jargon.

Chemistry seems almost immune to popularisation. Primo Levi wrote a wonderful book on the elements called The Periodic Table but that is about the only one. There are still huge areas to investigate.

When it comes to mathematics, things get more difficult: but if you can explain physics without maths, it might be possible, almost, to explain large areas without using the jargon.

And what about geology? Certainly, the fossils have been flogged to death, but continental drift, mountains, rivers and earthquakes deserve much more coverage than they receive.

Even in biology there are surprising gaps. Any undergraduate nowadays listens to hundreds of lectures on how cells work - but there is very little good journalism on the subject. Animal behaviour, fine; that of the cells that make them act that way - forgotten. And when cells go wrong?

There is some excellent medical writing around, but it tends to concentrate on treatment not fundamentals. Medicine is now (almost) a science and a "Syndrome of the Month" (or week, or day) would attract much more than a hypochondriac audience.

There's certainly plenty left to write about - and the beauty of science is that it is just like politics: there is something new every week.

There are, though, some things to avoid. With few exceptions, writing about what scientists are like, rather than what they are up to, does not succeed. This is because most scientists, like most people, are rather dull. There are exceptions - Richard Feynman springs to mind - and they have attracted some excellent biographers.

However, one genre that certainly fills up pages but does not usually work is: "Dr Boffin sat in O'Riley's Bar on 57th and 3rd, pondering something that had bothered him for years. Why does the olive sink? Suddenly, the answer was clear - and his Nobel was certain!"

The most important secret in science writing is the simplest: ignore those who claim to be experts. Instead, choose a scientific discovery outside your field that you find fascinating, sharpen a pencil, and sit down and write about it.

If you cannot think of a topic this week, next week, and the week after - give up thoughts of writing and go back to being a scientist. The pay is dreadful, the job prospects worse, and the stress sometimes intolerable - but it can still be a lot of fun.

Steve Jones won the 1994 Science Book Prize with The Language of the Genes (Flamingo, £6.99). He is professor of genetics at University College London.