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I'm going to a Gordon Conference at the end of the month. That's essential a pretty hardcore scientific conference, with a full programme and lots of very clever people in attendance (and me). This particular meeting is at Colby College, Maine, which is in the middle of bloody nowhere.

Seeing as I'd have to break the journey anyway (because trans-Pacific flights arrive on the Eastern seaboard at stupid times), and overnight either in Boston or New York going up and coming back, I've decided to take an extra day and do the tourist thing. It doesn't help that the conference finishes on the 4th July, which is some kind of public holiday or party in the US. I might see if I can see fireworks anywhere and ask what's going on in my best English accent.

So. It took me about half an hour to write the abstract and a similar amount of time to create the application online. The Black Queen spent Thursday afternoon looking for flights, then I took over and spent all day Friday trying to juggle connections and whatnot, finally making bookings Friday night. On the weekend I rested (actually, I didn't: but that's a story for somewhere else). Monday morning I figured out the hotels I'd need, and since then I've been banging my head against the completely arcane and impenetrable accounting system in order to get approval for the money I've already spent on the corporate card for the flights, and to make a claim for the hotel bills that have to be paid in advance and have had to come off my own credit card.

It's a bloody nightmare. You've got to do all these things in the right order, and you can't click 'save' until you've got all the information: if you hit 'submit' too soon it shoots off to get approved and you have to winkle it back out (easy to cock this one up — the buttons aren't labelled in any meaningful fashion) — and if, because you like to multi-task, you decide to open a claim for one sort of expense while working on a travel requisition then the second opens in the first window (not in a new tab, no, that would be sensible) and you lose everything you've done up to that point because you can't hit save yet.

My travel requisition might be a little terse for that reason.

Anyway, I got it done, and if I haven't checked all the right boxed or filled in every last detail I'm sure someone in admin will scream and shout. Fine.

After all that I went into the lab and buffered some phenol/chloroform. It was comforting. The semi-ester scent of isoamyl alcohol purified my senses. When people saw me in labcoat, gloves and safety specs they knew I was doing something dangerous. And real.

It felt good to be alive.

Everybody hurts

5 September, 2007

The most excellent and talented Jorge Cham, of PHD Comics, is talking at li'l ol' Sydney Uni next week.

Unfortunately I will not be going to the talk, because my spies tell me


They were being exclusive about it. The whole thing was addressed to postgraduate students only.

They didn't even bother to reply [to] me. Also, they said that the 300 seats in the lecture room had been reserved already.

So bah. Bah, bah and triple bah. And humbug, too.

Right, I promised to give a not-so-quick list of seminar do's and don'ts. The context for this is the Honours students giving their 'end of labwork' talks in a few weeks, and there's a few scribbles on a Post-It note I'd like to share.

The thing to remember through all this is the point of a talk (or lecture, or seminar, or whatever you want to call it). You are trying to convey a message, and most of the time that message is "Look how brilliant I am". Seriously. You are using your work to convince people in the audience to think "Hey! This cove deserves a degree!" or "Hey! I'd really like this person to work in my lab", or even "I'm glad I employed this person in the first place". Anything that distracts (or detracts) from your message is a bad thing.

That is why I've come down so heavily on the presentation aspect. It does matter, because people (being human) will focus on what they perceive to be wrong, and you do not want them thinking about the bad when they could (should) be focusing on your brilliance. Now, obviously you're not going to please everyone all the time, but you can certainly put your thumb on the scales.

All these points arise from sitting through various seminars. Unfortunately it's not just students who make basic errors; the pros do it too. A couple of weeks ago an email came round the 'academics' mailing list in the Cage, noting that our courses were getting a bad rap in the national press. We've all got something to learn.

The first point I'm going to make is so obvious I'm surprised it needs to be said. But if you get it wrong it's probably the one thing that will make people think "What a prat". It's so important that I'm going to put it on a separate line:

Spell check your slides.

Honestly, this is not difficult (and I'm not talking about technical terms, I'm referring to common words). On my computer at least, questionable words are automatically underlined, but the ability to check spelling in any document has been standard for essentially for ever in computing terms. And if a word looks all right to you but is flagged by your spell checker (Americanisms are a big gotcha, especially because the Americans themselves are deeply confused about -ise, -ize and -yse), then look it up. The OED is free to use from a USyd computer, so make use of it.

Related to this, if you're writing complete sentences rather than bullet points then check the grammar. This is slightly more difficult, but ask someone in the lab to check your slides for you. And if you're dyslexic you should do this anyway (spell checkers will not tell you if 'their' or 'there' is correct in context, for example).

Let's make that more formal. Even if you are an English geek, you should practise your talk in front of a friendly audience before you do it for real, so that they can spot any glaring errors that you have made. Proofreading shows respect for your intended audience. You can work out the implications of that for yourself.

Also remember that certain sad bastards (ahem) delight in looking for words in protein sequences. Find them yourself first; make a joke of it if you like.

Check that your slides are legible, from the back of the room in which you will give your talk. Easy to do, very few do it. Nigel makes a good point from the presentation point of view that serif fonts are generally bad when projected. Times New Roman is just one example of this.

Similarly, the use of colour can make or break a presentation. I still prefer plain black on a plain white background for clarity, with maybe an institutional crest in a corner and a coloured bar (horizontal or vertical) for relief. Recall that 10% of your audience might be colour-blind. Time spent on designing a flashy theme is time better spent on experiments, writing or going to the pub. You are not trying to sell pharmaceuticals to impressionable physicians, you are trying to demonstrate how clever you are. Just because Powerpoint and Keynote have these flashy templates does not mean you have to use them. Remember, you do not want to distract people from your message.

Which leads nicely into the next point: Transitions. I loathe Powerpoint transitions. Most of us have seen them all before and they're boring and, again, distracting. I have to admit that Keynote has one or two nice ones, but they're likely to become just as clichéd in a couple of years' time.

At the opposite end of the spectrum from yellow on blue Comic Sans with whizzing transitions is Sir Paul Nurse. Sir Paul gave a talk a couple of years ago at my institute in Cambridge, and boggled us all by hand-drawing his slides on the fly, on the OHP. Unless you are a very good artist, I do not recommend you try this, at least not until you're as famous as he is.

Keep your slides simple. One message per slide. One, at the most two, graphs or figures and no more than five bullet points — but not on the same slide as your graph! Highlight key points. Do not write out what you are going to say (more on this further down). Try to make all your slides legible without needing to turn down the room lights. This is difficult and not always possible.

The trick is to imagine that Professor Sleepy has dozed off during your talk, and wakes suddenly during a crucial data slide. She should be able to look at your slide and at a glance understand your point. Consider whether you really need to show a sequence alignment. These are notorious to get right, and it's often better just to leave them out. Think about how you are going to show data: It's good to see raw data, but it's also good to see controls versus experimental in a clear, striking graph.

When you finally give the talk for real — and I hate practising talks; I can never get into the swing of it without an audience but as I say, it is essential to get others to proofread your slides and your verbals — there are more things to remember.

Your talk should be structured. There should be a clear introduction; start large and focus in on your speciality. Contextualize. Explain why you did what you did, and what you were trying to find out. Concentrate on the data, and never, ever merely read from the slide. We can see and read that for ourselves; the slides are there to show data and to remind you what to say, to expand upon the core message that you are showing us. Conclude with a clear message.

I don't think it's important whether you give your acknowledgments at the start or the end, or during the talk. When I've described work that a few people have done I like to start by naming and thanking, so that the audience knows who I'm talking about when I say "David suggested we do this". It's possibly better that students save it for the end, but it's not something I'm worked up about.

So you're standing, giving the talk of your life, and you're facing the screen. Wrong, wrong, wrong. When we used glass slides and projectors this was more excusable, but the chances are that you'll have a laptop between you and the audience. So look at the audience, and glance down at the laptop. Ideally you should not even need the slides to give your talk, so except for pointing out things of interest you should never have to look at the screen. Talk to us! If you find yourself unable to remember your slides, and without a screen in front of you, then stand slightly to the side so you can see the screen out of the corner of the eye. Remember you're trying to impress us, not the screen.

Do not rush. Do not whisper, but neither should you shout; project your voice. This takes practice. Use simple terms, not jargon, whenever possible. Pace yourself, and make sure people can understand you. Look directly at members of the audience to confirm that they are getting it (and don't get too depressed if people are asleep. It happens to all of us). Work on your delivery, on capturing and holding people's attention. Consider what you're wearing; again, give no one an opportunity to focus on you or your foibles rather than your message.

"Hold the bloody pointer still", it says here. Most distracting when the little red dot is jerking all over the place while you're talking. Don't fiddle with change in your pocket (my biggest fault!) but don't be afraid, within reason, to use your hands to describe or emphasize. Don't 'um' and 'er', and don't say 'kinda', 'like' or 'sorta'. You may say 'innit' for comic effect. Don't be afraid to use humour, but you had better make sure it really is funny. Don't forget the names of collaborators and colleagues.

At the end of the talk, make it obvious you've finished. If someone asks a question and you can barely hear them, repeat the question (ask them to repeat it if necessary) so that the entire audience can hear. Address the questioner but talk to the rest of the audience as well (a difficult trick. I'm still working on it). If you don't understand the question, ask the questioner to rephrase or repeat, and then repeat your understanding back to them to check (this rephrasing the question in your own words is a useful trick. It lets the rest of the audience hear the question, confirms that you're answering the right question, and gives you time to think). Don't be afraid to stop and take a drink if you're dry; this also gives you more time to think.

I get a real blast out of giving talks, and one of the most important things to remember is to have fun. It's a crucial skill to learn if you're going to make a career out of this game, so you may as well enjoy it. Finally, realize that criticism of your talk is not aimed at you personally. Take criticism constructively, and learn from it.

Lorne - the Not a Conference Report Part II

I have seen, and sometimes even read, conference reports in society magazines (that is, publications from for example the British Society for Cell Biology, not Marie Claire or Hello etc.) and on weblogs. And I have but one thing to say.

If you have time to write a weblog from a conference, then you were not really there.

Enough said. Lorne is a blast. It is a reasonably-sized affair, with about 450 delegates, 15 lecture sessions of three or four speakers each, three poster sessions and a gorgeous beach, all in the space of about four days. Everyone seems to know each other, and if they don't they soon will. Many, and I would guess around seventy percent, are Lorne junkies, coming back year after year.

It is pretty hardcore, with most talks showing some structural information even if not describing a new protein structure. This can be hard work, even for someone who likes looking at models of proteins and nucleic acid. Drop off for a moment in the middle of a 30 minute talk and it's very difficult to pick up the thread again. It most be hell for any cell biologists who happened to drop by.

It is not all tough going. Scientists tend to play as hard as they work, whether it be partying with old and new friends until four in the morning, surfing or playing cricket. There will nearly always be someone in the bar arguing excitedly and animatedly with a collaborator, someone else clowning with or tormenting a rep at her trade display, and at least half a dozen people in the reception area tapping away on their laptops or making last-minute adjustments to their slides. Business cards are handed over and scribbled upon, and on at least one occasion I saw a couple take themselves apart to exchange rather more intimate details.

Every delegate will have had with a different impression of the conference, and if you were to ask which was the best part you would probably get four hundred different answers. For most of us I think the worst would probably have to be the lunches and refreshments prepared by the resort. I hasten to add that no blame can be attached to the conference organizers. But whoever thought that jam and egg rolls, or warm Carlton draught, was a good idea should be forced to — well, I can not think of a suitable punishment, but I am open to ideas. Just don't get me started on the tea. Earl Grey that tasted of Lapsang? Oh, and the difference between the vegetarian and normal lunches (apparently) was that if there was a roll containing meat, it was removed. Not substituted, removed.

I managed to come away with the promise of two useful reagents, several handy ideas, some interesting contacts and a whole bunch of crazed Kiwi friends. And the Quantum rep's business card. Yes, I know, I'm married; but this is one hell of a way to get girls' phone numbers. I also got a good photograph of a koala and a suntan. The organizers schedule the talks and posters from 0830 until 1300, and then from 1600 to 2200 with a break for dinner, which essentially means that the afternoons are free. And if the weather is good, you can go surfing or koala-spotting, or both. I like this game.

I can probably squeeze out a third report, that hopefully will be a bit more sciencey, but it will have to wait.

Everybody's talkin'

6 February, 2007

Lorne — the Not a Conference Report Part I

This is a pretty high-profile conference, at least within the protein world. We get some clever people speaking, or at least people powerful enough to swing a trip to Australia on their grant money. The fascinating thing is that the ability to perform cracking science and raise grant money does not necessarily correlate with the ability to give a good seminar.

So, for example, the medal lecture on the first evening was given by someone who, I'm assured, is a good man and a great scientist and humble and helpful (I spoke to someone who did a PhD in his department and then moved into sales. I found such hagiography from a sales rep a little disconcerting, but I'm happy she felt that way). I have no doubt he governs his lab well. The state of his talk, however, was more suited to an audience of medics (given the number of mice and rats that he must have killed) rather than scientists. I'm sure it would have been fascinating for endocrinologists but the title of this conference is "Protein Structure and Function". I am all for the contextualization of protein structure and function; after all, not recognizing the roles and implications of our work in a wider physiological setting is a major failing of our sub-genre, but I feel this was too much context and not enough science.

Maybe it's a culture clash thing — medics and scientists tend to be very scathing of one another. After all, the two groups have completely different goals. However, it was interesting to eavesdrop up on the whispered conversations as we left the conference hall and realize that the question on everyone's lips was "What's a sham castration?".

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About the Rat

Black Knight is interested in the interaction of science (as a day job and as a way of thinking) with his family, the wider community and literature. And tormenting students. Frequently polemical, sometimes serious, and hopefully always entertaining more

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