06 Dec 2000, The Daily Telegraph

How to write a winning story

The bestselling author and broadcaster Simon Singh launches this year's Daily Telegraph BASF Young Science Writer competition.

By Simon Singh

I have an admission to make. My first love was not writing, but television. Long before I was influenced by any of the great science writers, or indeed any of my physics teachers, it was television that got me interested in science. It was thanks to TV boffins like James Burke, Magnus Pyke and Carl Sagan that I became fascinated by everything from quarks to galaxies.

As a science writer I am supposed to extol the virtues of the written word against the supposed evils of television, but it is impossible for me to attack the medium that not only sparked my interest in science, but which also nurtured my writing skills.

Excluding Mr Charles, who taught me English when I was 12, everything else I know about writing has been a result of either watching or working in television. After completing my PhD in physics, I joined the BBC's science department, working on programmes such as Tomorrow's World, Horizon and Earth Story.

Over the course of five years, I realised that the key to a successful science programme is two-fold. First, clarity of explanation is vital, because the revelation and explanation of a new concept should be a highpoint for the viewer, not a period of confusion. Second, if the scientific explanation can be incorporated within the framework of a story, then this should enhance the science and entrance the viewer.

All programme-makers know that storytelling is important. The story is a way of hooking those viewers whose interest may begin to waver, it is defence against the power of the remote control. However, some science writers choose to ignore the story behind the science, perhaps because they feel that readers are more committed than viewers. Personally, I feel that this is a mistake.

Writers should not use the commitment of the reader as an excuse to avoid telling the story. Instead, it should be an opportunity to expand on the detail of the story, as well as a chance to explore the science more deeply.

When I started writing Fermat's Last Theorem, the story of the most notorious problem in the history of mathematics, it was clear from the outset that this was a classic tale with all the elements of a Hollywood thriller. A lone 17th-century genius, Pierre de Fermat, solved a problem, but, like a lazy schoolboy, he forgot to show his workings. For three centuries all the great mathematicians struggled to reconstruct Fermat's proof, but failed. Rich prizes were offered, bitter rivalries developed, there was a suicide, and even a duel at dawn.

Eventually, in 1963, a 10-year-old boy, Andrew Wiles, resolved to prove Fermat's Last Theorem and spent the next 30 years focusing on the conundrum. In 1993, after seven years of secret research, he emerged and revealed a proof.

Wiles appeared on front pages around the world, but the story did not end here. During the refereeing process that followed his announcement, one of Wiles's colleagues pointed out that the proof was flawed. Mathematicians say "a problem worthy of attack, proves its worth by fighting back", which was certainly the case with Fermat's Last Theorem. However, Professor Wiles fought back even harder, fixed his proofs the following year and ultimately triumphed.

As a writer, it would have been a crime to have concentrated solely on the mathematics and to have ignored the story surrounding it. Instead, I weaved the mathematics into the story, sometimes using the plot to give momentum to the reader. During one or two sections of the book, there are a few densely packed pages of mathematics, which might seem intimidating at first sight, but which I hope will prove rewarding and enlightening once the reader has got to the end. A story either side of the equations is a way of giving the reader enough confidence to cross the mathematical chasm.

I tried to create drama, exploit plot twists and build characters. In short, I wanted to use narrative to enrich the mathematics. Furthermore, I wanted to use the story to explore themes that are part of maths, but which also go beyond maths; themes such as ambition, genius and obsession. I wanted to show that mathematicians can be as passionate as poets.

It would be inappropriate to fill learned journals with all the gory, romantic, comical details surrounding a mathematical proof or a physics experiment, but books, newspapers, radio and television programmes should convey the drama of science, as well as the scientific ideas.

Increasingly, science writers are giving more emphasis to the story behind the science, and this development is partly responsible for the boom in science publishing. The most successful author in this new genre, sometimes called narrative non-fiction, is probably Dava Sobel (Longitude and Galileo's Daughter), and this year The Dinosaur Hunters by Deborah Cadbury and Mendeleyev's Dream by Paul Strathern have continued the trend.

However, I would offer a word of caution. There is a risk of concentrating too much on the story and forgetting the science. In my opinion, one such example is A Beautiful Mind by Sylvia Nasar, a biography of the game theorist John Nash published in 1998. I think it is a terrific read and I recommend it constantly, but it does have one flaw, namely a lack of game theory throughout much of the book.

Nasar tells with great sensitivity the tragic story of Nash, whose mathematical talent was eclipsed by the onset of severe paranoid schizophrenia. She explores the relationship between madness and genius, charts his sudden decline and gradual recovery, and recounts how he finally received recognition when he was Awarded the Nobel Prize for Economics in 1994 for research done over three decades earlier. My criticism of Nasar's book is that Nash's mathematical research into game theory was central to his life, and although the reader is introduced to the subject, it seems that the author sacrificed mathematical explanation in favour of narrative. It is simply a question of balance.

Unfortunately, getting the balance right gets tougher as the length of the piece shortens. So in a short newspaper article, such as that required for the Young Science Writer competition, it is particularly tricky to squeeze in a decent story as well as a respectable amount of explanation. Nevertheless, get the balance right, and the science will add to the story, and the story will illuminate the science.

Simon Singh is the author of Fermat's Last Theorem and two books about the history of codebreaking, The Code Book and The Science of Secrecy. His website is at www.simonsingh.com