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  • What Your First Medical Writing Project Actually Looks Like

    I still remember my first project for a MedComms agency.

    After the initial interviews and being brought on as a freelancer, I started receiving emails containing a wall of unfamiliar language.

    Brief. Kickoff meeting. Stakeholders. Deliverable.

    Coming from academia, it all sounded very formal and business-like. I had no idea what half of it meant, and I was too new to know what questions to ask.

    The medical writing field can feel intimidating from the outside, and not knowing what to expect is one of the main things that stops people from making the leap. The work is unfamiliar. The vocabulary is unfamiliar. The process is unfamiliar.

    But here’s what I’ve learned after ten-plus years on the other side: every experienced medical writer remembers their first project and the particular terror of not knowing what they didn’t know. The fear is universal. The way through it is just information.

    If you made it through a PhD, you have already spent years being thrown into unfamiliar territory and figuring it out under pressure. This is the same skill, pointed somewhere new.

    What follows is a walkthrough of what a typical medical writing project actually looks like from start to finish. No two projects are identical, but the basic stages are consistent enough that knowing them in advance will make the whole thing significantly less intimidating.

    The brief

    This is the document that defines the project: what you’re writing, who it’s for, the key messages, and the timeline. If a project is rushed or the team is stretched thin, the brief may arrive vague, incomplete, or not at all. If that happens, politely but firmly ask for one before you start. A clear brief is your most important tool for delivering work the client actually wants, and it protects you if the scope starts to drift.

    Pro tip: once you have enough experience, don’t wait for the client to send you a brief. Offer to write it yourself based on initial conversations and send it for confirmation. This will instantly show that you’re proactive and also helps protect against scope creep.

    The kickoff meeting

    This is typically a call with a few different people: someone from the accounts team managing the logistics, a senior person from the medical content team who is effectively your supervisor on this project, sometimes another medical writer handling a different section, and occasionally someone from a creative team responsible for design elements like graphs or slide formatting.

    Your role as the new freelancer is mostly to listen. The kickoff is where timelines get finalized and feedback milestones get defined. Take notes, absorb as much as you can, and ask clarifying questions about anything that will affect your ability to do the work. Basic questions are completely appropriate here. It is far better to ask now than to deliver the wrong thing three weeks later.

    Pro tip: ask for examples and existing resources early. A lot of medical writing is repetitive by design, and there is often no reason to start from scratch. A slide template, an existing visual, or a folder of references can save you hours and keep your work aligned with what the client is expecting.

    Research and resource review

    Before or shortly after the kickoff, you will receive the materials you need to do the work: clinical data, reference manuscripts, existing content, brand guidelines. This is where your PhD training earns its keep. You know how to read a clinical paper, synthesize evidence across multiple sources, and identify what actually matters. Do exactly that here.

    Pro tip: this phase is where you are expected to be independent. If something critical is clearly missing, ask for it. But fill gaps in your knowledge yourself wherever you can. Resourcefulness is one of the things clients are paying for when they hire a freelance PhD.

    The draft

    Write to the brief, stay within scope, and deliver on time. The first draft does not need to be perfect. It needs to demonstrate that you understood the assignment and can execute it at a professional level. Everyone in medical communications is busy, and a draft that requires a heavy rewrite costs the client time they don’t have.

    Pro tip: deliver on time, every time. Deadlines in this industry are relentless, and missing one can create problems that cascade quickly. As a freelancer especially, you are brought in to solve deadline problems, not create new ones. Your reputation for reliability is built one on-time delivery at a time.

    Feedback and revisions

    Revisions are not a sign that you did something wrong. They are a standard and expected part of every project. Before you start work, clarify who will be providing feedback, how it will reach you, and how many rounds of revisions are included in the scope. Knowing this upfront sets professional expectations and protects you if the revision process starts to expand.

    Pro tip: wait for feedback to be complete before you start incorporating it. Partial feedback leads to conflicting edits and wasted time, and diving in too early is a common first-timer mistake.

    The invoice

    Confirm payment terms before the project starts, not after you deliver. Know what you agreed to, invoice promptly when the milestone is reached, and follow up professionally if payment is late.

    Pro tip: drama-free payment is one of the things that tends to distinguish medical writing from other types of freelancing. If a client is consistently difficult about paying you, treat it as a significant red flag, not a minor inconvenience.


    By the time you have been through this sequence once, it stops feeling unfamiliar. The vocabulary clicks. The process starts to make sense. The second project is easier than the first, and the third easier than the second.

    The thing you were afraid you couldn’t do turns out to be something you can do.

  • What should you actually charge as a freelance medical writer?

    When I first started, I took whatever paying work I could get. Pennies on the word, in some cases.

    But as my portfolio grew, so did my clients. And eventually came the question every freelancer dreads:

    “So, what’s your hourly rate?”

    Cue the panic.

    Pricing yourself is one of the hardest parts of freelancing. Get it wrong and you feel undervalued, struggle with cash flow, and risk quitting before you’ve given it a real shot. Get it right and you can build a good, even great, living. This isn’t a step-by-step guide. Think of it more as a buffet of things worth knowing before you set your rate.

    Check your mindset first

    “Freelancing” carries a stigma it doesn’t deserve. Some people hear it and think unemployed, or doing odd jobs on the side. In medical writing, freelancers regularly out-earn their in-house counterparts. You have years of specialized training. Clients in this field, especially pharma and biotech, often have significant budgets for the deliverables you’re creating. Price like someone who knows that.

    Remember what your rate actually covers

    A client is paying for your time, but they’re also not paying for office space, equipment, a hiring search, healthcare, retirement contributions, disability coverage, childcare, or their share of social security and Medicare tax. All of that is baked into your rate now. This is exactly why a freelance hourly rate should be meaningfully higher than what a comparable in-house salary works out to per hour.

    Do your homework

    Your network is the best resource you have here. Talk to other freelancers. If you have a friend working in-house, ask what they pay their freelancers. You might be surprised at what agencies charge pharma clients for your type of work, and that number is a useful anchor for figuring out your own slice of the pie. The AMWA salary survey, published annually, is also a solid benchmark worth checking (available to members only).

    Hourly or project rate?

    People will argue passionately for both, and the truth is they both have a place in your business.

    Hourly is low risk when you’re starting with a new client or an unfamiliar project type. It protects you from scope creep, and it’s the model agencies already use to bill their pharma clients, so it’s often simply the expectation. The downside is that your income is capped by your hours, and it actually punishes you for getting faster and more experienced.

    That’s where project fees come in. You estimate based on time, but you can also build in the difficulty of the work, your experience level, and a buffer for revisions. It rewards efficiency instead of penalizing it.

    One of my personal favorites is the retainer. You agree on an hourly or day rate, but you get paid whether the client has work for you that week or not. It defines your hours and protects your income from clients whose needs are unpredictable.

    Client-specific pricing

    One real advantage of freelancing is that your rate doesn’t have to be fixed. Sense early on that a client will be difficult? Quote higher and let that cushion absorb the friction later. Have a dream client doing work you genuinely love? Quote a little lower if it means securing them. Try doing that as a salaried employee!

    Payment terms matter almost as much as the rate itself

    How and when you get paid is nearly as important as how much. Nothing is worse than finishing a major project and then waiting 60 days for a check. NET60 terms exist for wholesale supply chains, not for a one-person operation trying to keep the lights on. The best terms are electronic payment, due immediately on receipt. Most of your real negotiating will happen somewhere between those two extremes.

    So, what’s the number?

    You’ll notice I’ve avoided specifics through most of this. Money is personal, and what you need and what you’re aiming for depends on your own situation. Your network and the AMWA salary survey is the better resource for real benchmarks.

    But if you want a floor: unless your financial situation is dire, don’t charge less than $100 an hour for specialized medical writing work. Once your portfolio and reputation grow, that number should too.

  • The Full Landscape of Medical Writing Careers

    When I first considered leaving academia, I had a vague idea of what medical writing involved. Papers, grants, something else science-adjacent that involved a keyboard?

    What I found was an entire industry with distinct sub-specialties, different career tracks, and wildly different day-to-day work. Some of it sounded like an instant fit, and some of it I knew wasn’t for me. But I couldn’t have made that call without knowing what existed. This is the list I wish I’d had.

    1. Publications

    What it involves: supporting the development of manuscripts for peer-reviewed journals, as well as abstracts, posters, and presentations for conferences. This includes working with clinical data from pharma and biotech companies. The work is rigorous, detail-oriented, and close to the science.

    Types of employers: medical communications agencies, contract research organizations (CROs), and in-house publication teams at pharmaceutical and biotech companies. Freelance is common.

    Why it suits PhDs: you’ve written papers and understand peer review, data interpretation, and the structure of a scientific argument. This is the most direct translation of academic skills into a medical writing career.

    Honest caveat: the work can feel constrained by client objectives and publication timelines. If you found academic publishing frustrating, some of those frustrations will still be here, although the pace is faster and the pay is better.

    2. Medical education and medical communications

    What it involves: developing content that educates healthcare professionals. This includes slide decks, monographs, advisory board materials, symposia, e-learning modules, and continuing medical education (CME) programs. The goal is to translate complex clinical science into formats that change clinical practice.

    Types of employers: medical communications agencies that can include everything from large global networks to boutique independents. Some in-house roles exist at larger pharma companies. Strong freelance infrastructure.

    Why it suits PhDs: synthesizing a body of evidence into a coherent educational narrative is exactly what you did for review articles, seminars, and grant background sections. The audience changes from peer reviewers to practicing clinicians, but the core skill is the same.

    Honest caveat: agency life can involve demanding timelines and multiple simultaneous accounts. The work is intellectually engaging, but the pace can be relentless in busy periods.

    3. Promotional and marketing writing

    What it involves: creating materials that support the commercial side of pharmaceutical and medical device companies, things like sales aids, branded content, product monographs, digital content, and promotional campaigns targeted at healthcare professionals or consumers.

    Types of employers: healthcare advertising agencies, in-house marketing teams at pharma and biotech companies, and medical device manufacturers.

    Why it suits PhDs: understanding the science behind the product is a genuine differentiator here. Promotional writers who can accurately represent clinical data while making it compelling for a commercial audience are not easy to find.

    Honest caveat: this is the most commercially oriented type of medical writing and the furthest from pure science. Regulatory constraints on promotional claims are significant, and you have to be comfortable operating within those guardrails. If the commercial angle feels off, other tracks may be a better fit.

    4. Regulatory writing

    What it involves: preparing scientific documents that support drug, biologic, and medical device submissions to regulatory agencies like the FDA and EMA. This includes clinical study reports, investigator brochures, briefing documents, and full submission dossiers. The documents are dense and precise, but also critically important.

    Types of employers: pharmaceutical and biotech companies, CROs, and regulatory consulting firms. Some freelance opportunities exist, although this track is more commonly full-time employment given the complexity of submissions.

    Why it suits PhDs: regulatory writing demands deep scientific understanding combined with extreme precision and attention to detail. A PhD who can read a clinical dataset, understand its implications, and communicate it accurately in a structured format is exactly what this field needs.

    Honest caveat: this is the most process-driven type of medical writing. The documents follow strict templates and guidelines, and creativity is not a feature. If you thrive on rigor and precision and don’t need variety, regulatory writing is well-compensated and in strong demand. If you seek creative latitude, look elsewhere.

    5. Grant writing

    What it involves: writing funding applications for academic institutions, non-profits, foundations, and government agencies.

    Types of employers: universities and academic medical centers, non-profit research organizations, foundations, and independent consulting. Freelance is viable once you have a track record.

    Why it suits PhDs: you have probably written or contributed to a grant. You understand the structure, the specific aims logic, the literature framing, and what study sections are looking for. That experience is directly transferable and genuinely rare among non-PhD applicants.

    Honest caveat: grant writing success rates are low, which means a significant portion of your work won’t get funded regardless of quality. That can be demoralizing if you tie your professional self-worth to outcomes. The best grant writers develop a healthy detachment from results that not everyone can manage.

    6. Health communications

    What it involves: translating complex health and medical information for general public audiences. This involves creation of patient education materials, public health campaigns, health literacy content, consumer-facing digital content, and disease awareness programs.

    Types of employers: public health agencies, non-profit health organizations, patient advocacy groups, government health departments, and health-focused communications firms.

    Why it suits PhDs: the ability to take complex science and make it accurate and accessible is the core skill here. PhDs who have done science communication, taught undergraduates, or written for general audiences have a head start. Side note: this may be the most accessible track for non-PhDs breaking into medical writing.

    Honest caveat: compensation in this track is generally lower than pharma-facing medical writing, particularly in the non-profit and public sector. The work is often mission-driven and meaningful, but if financial independence is a primary goal, this path requires realistic expectations about salary.

    7. Health economics and outcomes research (HEOR) and market access

    What it involves: producing the evidence that demonstrates a drug or device’s value to payers, health technology assessment bodies, and healthcare systems. This can include systematic literature reviews, budget impact models, cost-effectiveness analyses, and value dossiers. It sits at the intersection of clinical evidence, economics, and policy.

    Types of employers: specialist HEOR consulting firms, health economics teams within large pharma companies, and market access agencies.

    Why it suits PhDs: HEOR writing requires genuine comfort with evidence synthesis, statistical concepts, and scientific literature, which is all standard PhD territory. The analytical depth required makes it a natural fit for researchers with quantitative backgrounds.

    Honest caveat: this is a specialized niche with its own vocabulary and conventions. The learning curve is steeper than some other tracks, and prior exposure to health economics concepts is a real advantage. Strong demand and good compensation are possible for those who invest in developing the expertise.

    8. Public relations and science communications

    What it involves: managing how scientific and medical organizations communicate with the media, investors, and the public. This includes press releases, media briefings, investor communications for biotech and pharma companies, and crisis communications. It requires translating science for journalists and non-specialist audiences under time pressure.

    Types of employers: PR agencies with life sciences practices, in-house communications teams at biotech and pharma companies, and academic and research institutions.

    Why it suits PhDs: a PR professional who genuinely understands the science can communicate more accurately and confidently than someone working from a briefing document alone.

    Honest caveat: this track is more communications and relationship-driven than writing-driven. If you’re introverted or prefer deep writing work over fast-turnaround media interactions, the pace and interpersonal demands of PR may not suit you.

    9. Medical journalism

    What it involves: reporting on scientific developments, research findings, and health topics for newspapers, magazines, digital outlets, podcasts, and broadcast media. This work is fast-paced, requires building sources across scientific communities, and demands the ability to write accurately under deadline.

    Types of employers: mainstream media outlets with science desks, specialist science publications, digital health and science platforms, and freelance.

    Why it suits PhDs: the ability to read a paper critically, identify what’s genuinely significant versus overhyped, and explain it accurately is a genuine differentiator. Science journalists with PhDs can report on complex topics with a depth that generalist journalists can’t match.

    Honest caveat: this is the most financially precarious track on this list. Staff science journalism positions are scarce and competitive. Freelance science journalism is viable but rarely lucrative, particularly early on. If financial stability is a priority, this works best as a complement to other income streams rather than a standalone career, at least initially.

    10. Medical translation

    What it involves: converting medical and scientific documents from one language to another while preserving technical accuracy. This includes clinical trial documents, regulatory submissions, patient information, and scientific literature. It is highly specialized work that requires both linguistic fluency and subject matter expertise.

    Types of employers: translation agencies specializing in life sciences, pharmaceutical companies with global operations, and CROs. Freelance is common.

    Why it suits PhDs: subject matter expertise is the main barrier to entry in medical translation. A PhD who is genuinely bilingual has a combination that is difficult to find. The scientific credibility makes the difference between a generalist translator and a specialist one.

    Honest caveat: this track is only possible if you have genuine fluency in a second language. Native-level proficiency is the baseline, as scientific content is unforgiving of linguistic errors. If that’s you, this is an underrated and well-compensated niche. If it’s not, it’s not really an option.

    In conclusion

    Most people reading this will find two or three entries that immediately feel right and several that clearly don’t. Pay attention to that instinct.

    The next step is simple: pick the ones that resonated most and find someone working in that area for an informational interview. Everything becomes more clear when you talk to someone who does the work every day.

    Which of these surprised you most, and which felt like an immediate yes? Hit reply and tell me — I read every message.

  • Your PhD qualifies you for more jobs than you think

    I took a second postdoc because I didn’t know what else to do with my degree.

    That’s the honest version of how it happened. My research career was not going well, and I did not have a clear path to a faculty position. But staying felt safer than facing the question of what came next. I wasted two years that way.

    If that sounds familiar, this newsletter is for you.


    Most PhDs leaving academia default to industry research. Not because it’s the best fit, but because it’s the only exit they can see from inside the lab. The job titles are recognizable, the work feels adjacent to what they already know, and it requires the least reimagining of their identity.

    The problem is that familiarity makes it the most crowded path out. And for a lot of PhDs, it’s also not the most aligned with what they actually enjoyed about academic life.

    Turns out, there are many other options. Better paid in some cases and less competitive in others. And they can be more connected to the parts of the work you actually looked forward to. You just can’t see them from inside a lab.

    Here’s the map.


    The Default: Industry Research

    What it involves: bench or translational research in biotech, pharma, or medical devices. Similar to academic research but with clearer timelines, defined deliverables, and no publish-or-perish pressure.

    Why your PhD is an asset: you can do the work. The technical skills transfer directly and hiring managers know it.

    The caveat: this is the most competitive path precisely because it’s everyone’s first thought. A PhD applying for an industry research role is competing with every other PhD who couldn’t answer the question “what else could I do?” It’s a legitimate path, but just go in with realistic expectations about the competition, and know that “scientist” roles at large pharma companies can feel more constrained than academia in ways people don’t anticipate.


    Underrated: Regulatory Affairs

    What it involves: ensuring that drugs, biologics, and medical devices meet the requirements of regulatory agencies like the FDA and EMA. Writing and reviewing submission documents, navigating agency guidelines, and managing approval timelines.

    Why your PhD is an asset: regulatory affairs is fundamentally a scientific communication job. You need to understand the science deeply enough to translate it into documents that satisfy regulators. A life sciences PhD gives you that foundation. Most people in this field came from research backgrounds.

    The caveat: the work is detail-oriented and process-driven in a way that suits some personalities but not others. If you loved the creative, hypothesis-driven side of research, the procedural nature of regulatory work can feel constraining. If you liked the rigour and the precision, you’ll be right at home. Demand is strong and the field is undersupplied with qualified people, which is a good problem to have on your side.


    My Path: Medical and Scientific Communications

    What it involves: creating content to communicate complex science to specific audiences, such as healthcare professionals, patients, and industry stakeholders. Can include medical education, publications support, advisory board materials, and more. Available as both agency employment and freelance work.

    Why your PhD is an asset: the ability to read a research manuscript, understand what matters, and translate it into clear, accurate content for a non-specialist audience is exactly what this field pays for. You’ve been doing a version of this in every talk you’ve given, every grant you’ve written, and every paper you’ve published.

    The caveat: This is a field that rewards communication skills specifically. If writing was always the part of academic life you dreaded, this may not be the right fit. If it was the part you looked forward to, stay tuned. I’ll spend more time talking about this path in future newsletters.


    Extroverts/Travelers: Medical Affairs and Medical Science Liaison roles

    What it involves: serving as the scientific bridge between a pharmaceutical or biotech company and the external medical community, people like key opinion leaders, clinicians, and researchers. MSLs communicate clinical and scientific data, gather insights from the field, and support medical strategy. It’s a relationship-driven, externally facing role.

    Why your PhD is an asset: the scientific credibility that comes with a doctorate matters here. MSLs are expected to hold their own in conversations with specialists, and a PhD signals that you can.

    The caveat: MSL roles involves significant travel; often 50-70% of the time depending on the territory. That’s a dealbreaker for some people and a selling point for others. Know which one you are before you pursue it. The compensation is strong, but the lifestyle demands are real.


    The Specific Personality: Consulting

    What it involves: either joining a large consulting firm (McKinsey, BCG, Deloitte) on life sciences accounts, or working with a boutique agency that specialises in pharma or biotech strategy. Projects can vary widely: market access, competitive intelligence, commercial strategy, pipeline assessment, etc.

    Why your PhD is an asset: the scientific depth you bring to business problems is the whole point. Consultants who can read a clinical dataset and translate the implications into strategic recommendations are valuable and not easy to find.

    The caveat: this is the most difficult path on this list to enter from academia, and the lifestyle in large firms is demanding in ways that make a postdoc look manageable. Boutique agencies can be more accessible and more sustainable. If you are energized by variety, ambiguity, and client interaction, consulting can be great. If you preferred the depth of focusing on one problem for years, it may feel scattered.


    Idealists: Science policy

    What it involves: working at the intersection of scientific research and government. Examples include advising policymakers, working for funding agencies, staffing congressional offices, or joining advocacy organizations. The goal is translating science into decisions that affect research funding, public health, or technology regulation.

    Why your PhD is an asset: scientific credibility in policy contexts is genuinely valued. The ability to communicate research findings to non-scientists, clearly and without oversimplification, is the core skill.

    The caveat: this is the path academics romanticize more than they pursue. Entry-level positions are scarce, pay is often lower than other options on this list, and the route in is rarely straightforward. AAAS fellowships and similar programs are the most structured pathway, but they are competitive. If science policy genuinely interests you, pursue it, but know it is a mission-driven path, not a high-compensation one.


    I didn’t know medical writing existed until I went looking. I wonder what’s on this list that you hadn’t considered before today.

    You don’t have to know exactly where you’re going to start moving. Expanding the map is step one. The next step is figuring out which path actually fits who you are, not just which one is most visible from where you’re standing.

  • How to Find Your First Freelance Medical Writing Gig

    Ten years ago I was cold-emailing strangers looking for work. Today clients come to me without any outreach at all.

    That gap didn’t close overnight. But it started with a few specific moves, and they’re the same ones I’d recommend to anyone trying to break in now.

    I’m unapologetic about recommending freelancing as a first move into medical writing. Full-time roles at agencies involve a lot beyond the writing itself, things like client relationships, project scoping, strategy, and budgets. Freelancing lets you experience the actual work without all of that. It’s also how a lot of medical writers start, which means the infrastructure for it exists. People expect to hire freelancers. Use that.

    Step 1: Commit to 2+ hours a day

    No sugar-coating this one. Breaking into a new field takes concentrated effort. Two hours a day is enough to build your materials, do meaningful outreach, and follow up. But only if those two hours are protected and deliberate, not squeezed between experiments.

    Step 2: Have a portfolio on your own website

    Apparently this caused some controversy on LinkedIn. I stand by it. Hiring managers are busy, and freelance clients especially so. They typically have a specific problem and they want it solved quickly. A portfolio hosted on your own site makes you an easy yes. A LinkedIn profile alone does not.

    Step 3: Network before you apply

    If you work in science, you are probably 2 or 3 connections away from someone already working in medical writing. It is one of the most common career pivots for academic scientists. Start there.

    No direct connections? Use LinkedIn to find second-level connections and ask for introductions. Cold outreach for informational interviews is completely normal in this field, but lead with something real. Reference their work or offer something useful. Be a human being, not a template.

    Step 4: Apply selectively and pitch proactively

    Most freelance gigs are never publicly listed. The ones that are posted will have the most competition. So respond to listings, but don’t stop there.

    Find the people at relevant companies who are in a position to hire freelancers. Send a short, targeted message on who you are, what you offer, and how to reach you. Keep it brief, and keep follow-up limited and respectful. One move that consistently works is to close your message by asking if they know someone more appropriate who they could forward it to. It’s a low-friction ask that often opens doors the original message didn’t.

    Step 5: Avoid the race to the bottom

    I’ll be direct: I don’t recommend Upwork, etc for medical writing. These platforms tend to drive fees down in a field that deserves specialist compensation. If financial pressure means you need paying work quickly, take what you need, but keep the networking and direct outreach running in parallel and transition out as soon as you can.

    Final word: Zero to one changes everything

    This is a tough market right now, I won’t pretend otherwise. But the strategies above will put you ahead of most people applying for the same work. And the hardest part isn’t the tenth client, it’s the first one. Once you go from zero to one, the narrative shifts completely. The portfolio grows and the referrals start.

  • How to Build a Medical Writing Portfolio When You Have Zero Medical Writing Experience

    Here’s the catch-22 everyone faces when they’re starting out: you need writing samples to get work, but you need work to get writing samples.

    I faced this problem near the end of my 2nd postdoc. I’d landed on medical writing as my way out of academia. It seemed to be the right mix of science, data analysis, and creativity. But I had no client work, no published pieces outside of academia, and nothing that looked like a portfolio.

    The answer was simple but counterintuitive. I needed to create the kind of work I wanted to do before I started applying.

    This may seem intimidating at first, but I’ve broke down into 4 steps that you can emulate.

    Step 1: Build a simple website

    This applies to any job seeker, not just aspiring medical writers. Claim a domain and put up a one-page portfolio. A free service like WordPress is fine to start. The point isn’t to be impressive, it’s to have somewhere to send people. A LinkedIn profile alone signals that you’re not serious.

    Step 2: Research the actual deliverables

    This step will put you ahead of most applicants. The majority of people apply thinking only about themselves (“am I qualified?” “does this pay enough?”) You’re going to do something different and demonstrate that you already understand what the job produces.

    There are many types of medical writing. Regulatory documents, medical education content, advisory board materials, publications support. Pick the area that interests you and find real examples of what those deliverables look like.

    Step 3: Repurpose what you already have

    Here’s where it gets interesting. You don’t need to start from scratch. Your PhD work is full of the raw material, and you can repurpose it to make an impressive medical writing portfolio.

    Some examples:

    In medical communications, slide decks are a standard deliverable for advisory boards. You’ve made dozens of PowerPoint presentations for lab meetings and conferences. Pull the background slides from your own research and reframe them as the introduction to a mock advisory board deck.

    In continuing medical education, needs assessments are common. These are structured documents that define a gap in current clinical knowledge or practice. If you’ve written a grant, you’ve already written something structurally similar. Repurpose it.

    These aren’t fake samples. They’re demonstrations of real skill applied to a new format.

    Step 4: Share your portfolio (start closer than you think)

    None of this pays off if no one sees it. Start with trusted colleagues who know you’re making a move. Tell them what kind of role you’re looking for. This step alone has a way of generating introductions you didn’t expect.

    Once you have positive feedback, widen the circle into 2nd-level connections, hiring managers and job listings. Your portfolio isn’t just evidence, it’s a confidence anchor. You’re not just hoping you can do this work, you’re proving it before anyone asks.

  • You already have what it takes to leave academia

    When PhDs consider leaving, the fear is almost always the same: my skills won’t translate. This is especially true if you’re leaving research altogether. It’s a understandable fear. It’s also mostly wrong.

    The problem usually isn’t your skills. It’s how you’re packaging them.

    The mindset shift

    Academia trains you to document what you did, things like methods, projects, and responsibilities. The private sector wants to know what you achieved. Accomplishments. Metrics. Impact. These are not the same thing, and the gap between them is where most PhD job applications go to die.

    The good news is that you don’t need new skills. You need to redescribe the ones you already have.

    Step 1: Reframe what you’ve already done

    Start with what’s already on your CV and translate it.

    Supervised a technician in the lab? You “managed a small research team whose work contributed to 2 peer-reviewed publications.” Helped your PI write a grant? You “co-wrote a successfully funded $500,000 NIH R01.” These aren’t embellishments. They’re accurate descriptions of real accomplishments written for an audience that doesn’t speak academia.

    This will feel like bragging, but it isn’t. It’s just a different language.

    Step 2: Fill the gaps, but don’t waste time

    Check the job listings you’re targeting. If a skill keeps appearing that you genuinely don’t have, consider targeted training. The key word is targeted. Think about a condensed course, not another degree. You are not looking for a second PhD. A few weeks of focused upskilling, if it’s truly needed, will pay for itself fast once you’re earning outside of academia.

    Step 3: Rewrite your CV as a resume

    The truth hurts: a recruiter does not want to read your academic CV. Nobody does.

    A strong resume is 1-2 pages. It leads with a short summary of your experience and where you’re headed, something like “proven skills in scientific communication for academia and industry.” Work experience runs most-recent-first, with accomplishments and metrics for each role. Education goes last, presented as a short list.

    Take it from me: no one needs to know that you spent four years studying 20 cells in a fruit fly embryo. Keep the research descriptions short and translate them into language that means something outside your subfield.

  • 9 months from PhD burnout to fully booked medical writer

    It was 2 years into my second postdoc, and I was burnt out.

    I’d taken the position to keep my academic dream alive. Instead, I was sitting on the lawn outside my lab, watching campus life move around me, wondering how I was going to support my family. I thought about teaching high school. I looked into government jobs. Meanwhile, friends with “real jobs” were buying new cars and taking actual vacations.

    6+ years post-PhD, the dream wasn’t working out. A few papers, a fellowship, but not a CV that was going to win a tenure-track position. Not even close.

    Then I discovered medical writing, and everything changed.

    The switch

    I started by asking myself what I actually liked about academic life. It wasn’t the hypotheses or the experiments. What I loved was what came after the results, things like writing up papers, building presentations, and making a dense methods section actually readable. I liked the background section as much as the findings. I liked synthesizing complex science into something that could educate an audience.

    Turns out, that’s most of the job description for a medical writer.

    Starting up

    I got moving while I still had a salary. Downtime between experiments plus evenings and weekends gave me enough runway to take the first steps. I picked up low-paying editing work to build a portfolio. I rewrote my academic CV, framing grants and papers as relevant experience. And I networked hard: several former colleagues had moved into medical communications, and through a series of informational interviews, I landed my first real medical writing gigs.

    Within 3 months, I’d left my postdoc. (I was actually fired, but that’s a story for another newsletter.)

    Things were slow at first. Then I caught a lucky break: an agency needed coverage while a full-time medical director went on leave. Twenty hours a week at a rate that exceeded my postdoc salary by a hefty margin.

    Less than a year after first hearing the words “medical writing,” I was fully booked.