The two secret ingredients of great science media
Here's a hint: they rhyme with honey and lime.
This last week I've been back home in Oregon to attend the 2026 ScienceWriters conference — a major annual gathering of science journalists and science communicators. There's a lot I'd like to share from the conference, and I feel like I'll be writing things related to it for months. But right now I have 30 minutes crouched over my laptop in a hotel. So let me share just one thought
The science writing community does not suffer for a lack of great ideas. We want to do work that matters, and we care about doing a good job. Several sessions ScienceWriters offered great advice for journalists and communicators on how to do better work, reach new audiences, and tell important stories. I went to sessions on writing books, reporting on science policy and public health, creating video, and more. The speakers had a lot of great things to say. But what stood out to me more than any one suggestion was what so often went unremarked — the absence of something essential to executing every offered tip, trick, or technique.
There are two secret ingredients to great science media, and they are money and time.
Talent is not the limiting reagent of good science journalism and science communication. Neither is passion or grit or knowledge or skill. If I've learned anything at ScienceWriters, it's that the science writing and broader media communities brim with driven, creative people with the skills to make incredible and meaningful things. What we're missing is the money and time (and time is money) to do our work.
I attended the conference to accept one of the top awards for a young science writer. And in my 90 second award speech I shared that I very nearly quit science writing earlier this year because I struggle to see a future in it. Freelance rates haven't budged in decades, and if they don't go up in the future I won't be able to stay in this job. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one. Many of the other awardees also emphasized how precarious their careers are — notably including Jane Qiu, winner of the prestigious Sharon Blegley prize and an established mid-career journalist who's won multiple competitive awards. One awardee ended their acceptance speech by asking if any editors in the audience would hire them.
If people at the pinnacle of a field are struggling to hold on and don't know if they can continue, what does that say about the wider profession?
