I like to think that I’m a pretty good communicator. As an editor, I spend my days tightening up prose and pointing out storytelling holes in drafts to help writers tell the best science stories possible. But on one toasty morning in June, standing on the side of a busy hiking trail, every communication skill I’d ever acquired seemed to drop clean out of my head.
I had hit the trail early that day, excited to break in my new trail running shoes. With a little less than a mile back to my car, I was looking forward to sitting down. But, as I stepped to the side of the path to let an uphill hiker move past me, I heard, “Hey! HEY!”
Two women about ten feet down the trail stood shoulder-to-shoulder, seemingly braced against an invisible line. To my surprise, they were waving their arms above their heads and staring straight at me.
The problem was, I had no idea what they wanted me to do. One of them motioned for me to move to the other side of the trail, widening her eyes. There were some beautiful purple and yellow wildflowers behind me from some recent rains. Did she want me to move so she could take a photo?
Genuinely bewildered, I asked, “What?” Seeing that I just wasn’t getting it, she sighed, flapped her arms toward herself, and said, “Come here!”
Directions — those I understood! When I reached them, one pointed to a shady dip in the trail, just to the right of where I had been standing.
“There’s a snake. Right. There.”
It took me a second to see it, but sure enough, tucked into a little nook on the edge of the trail was a decently-sized rattlesnake. We watched as it unfurled itself and leisurely slithered to the other side of the trail, disappearing into the grass.
Seeing just how close I had been to stepping on a rattlesnake still gives me chills, and now every time I hike this or any other trail, I pay a lot more attention to where I put my feet. But, what really stuck with me was how — in a very stressful and potentially very dangerous situation — the communication between me and my fellow hikers completely broke down. The intensity of the women trying to get my attention made me freeze when what I needed to do was move. My inaction just ratcheted up their stress. Only when one of them gave me clear directions did I realize what they were trying to communicate.
As we settle into 2025, there is a similar need for direct and transparent communication that cuts through the noise. Many changes are on the horizon for the biotechnology and biopharmaceutical world — from shakeups at the Food and Drug Administration to increased scrutiny of public health initiatives — and change is inherently stressful. It incites strong emotions in both people who welcome and resist it. Only clear, accurate, and engaging communication will break through those intense feelings to convey the information that we all need. That effective science communication is what we aim to do at Drug Discovery News , now and always.
On the topic of communicating clear science amidst change, you may have noticed that the print magazine in your hands looks a little different from prior issues. While the overall dimensions of the publication have decreased in size, our page count has increased — allowing us to bring you the same high-quality science journalism you’ve come to expect from DDN but packaged in an entirely new way. With this new format, we hope to make reading DDN an even more enjoyable experience, and we plan to use this new style to bring you more insightful and fascinating stories about the world of drug discovery and development.
We hope that you’re as excited about this change as we are and that you’ll join us on this science communication journey — minus the rattlesnakes.
The rattlesnake that I unknowingly got much too close to, slithering across the hiking trail. Video Credit: Stephanie DeMarco
