Editor’s Note: Today’s post is by Priyanka Gupta, Ph.D., Development Editor at ACS Omega.

“Life is not linear. You build your career path as you go, not before.” — Sheryl Sandberg

When I began my PhD, I believed I was stepping into a world of possibility, curiosity as my compass, science as my contribution. I imagined discoveries, breakthroughs, and a lifelong academic career. What I didn’t imagine was a quiet conversation on a sidewalk in Italy that would introduce me to an entirely different, but equally fulfilling path.

This is the story of how I transitioned from academic research to scholarly publishing, and why I believe the two worlds are not just connected, but interdependent.

Most PhD students begin with a deep passion for their field. That passion, however, is quickly shaped by structural and situational realities: institutional support, advisor compatibility, access to funding, and geography all influence the course of a research career, often more than science itself.

According to the Council of Graduate Schools, only 56.6% of PhD students in the U.S. complete their programs within 10 years (CGS, 2019). Attrition is not just about capability; it’s also about disillusionment, burnout, and lack of direction. A 2019 Nature survey revealed that over 36% of PhD students had sought help for anxiety or depression, and 75% felt uncertain about their career prospects (Nature, 2019). And yet, when early-career researchers consider pivoting to something beyond the lab, especially into fields like publishing, it’s often viewed as a step down rather than a step across.

In most professions, career pivots are not only accepted — they’re expected and celebrated. Engineers move into product management, consulting, or even become actors (like Ashton Kutcher, who studied biochemical engineering). Lawyers transition into corporate strategy, policy, or writing. These shifts are seen as signs of growth, adaptability, and ambition. But in academia, such moves are often seen as exits, not transitions. Even though only about 23% of science and engineering PhDs in the U.S. end up in tenure-track roles (NSF, 2021), there’s little conversation about what the remaining 77% are trained for or inspired to do.

More Than a Thesis: What a PhD Really Teaches You

When I began my PhD, I thought I knew what I was signing up for. I had a strong foundation in chemistry, some lab experience, and the belief that by the end of the program, I would become an expert in a niche area of science. The goal was clear: do meaningful research, publish good papers, and contribute to the field.

But the reality was far richer and more surprising.

A PhD doesn’t just train you to master a topic. It rewires the way you think. It teaches you to approach problems with depth, to stay curious in the face of ambiguity, and to push forward even when the outcome is unclear.

Take writing, for instance. Over the course of a PhD, you write multiple scientific reports, research articles, grant proposals, presentations, and a dissertation. In doing so, you don’t just become a better writer; you learn to communicate complex ideas with precision and purpose. You learn the difference between data and narrative. That’s not just a research skill; it’s the heart of editorial work.

You also learn to collaborate across disciplines, institutions, and sometimes, borders. In my own PhD journey, I worked with researchers in different time zones and cultural contexts. This kind of collaboration develops more than scientific output, teaches diplomacy, coordination, and respect. These are core competencies in any global profession: cross-cultural communication, teamwork, and stakeholder management.

Mentorship is another quiet cornerstone. Whether you’re guiding junior lab members or co-authoring with early-career colleagues, you learn to lead with clarity and empathy. You gain the ability to give constructive feedback and to receive it without defensiveness—a skill that directly mirrors the dynamics of peer review.

And then there’s adaptability. Research doesn’t follow a script. Experiments fail, hypotheses fall apart, and timelines stretch. During my PhD, I relocated across countries and cultures to continue my work. Adapting to a new academic system, language, and lifestyle wasn’t just personally transformative; it gave me professional resilience. It taught me how to operate outside my comfort zone, how to ask the right questions when the rules change, and how to learn quickly in unfamiliar settings.

Looking back, these are the very skills that form the backbone of scholarly publishing. The ability to analyze, communicate, manage, and uphold ethical standards — these aren’t detours from research. They’re the bridge between research and its real-world impact.

Conversations That Changed Course

In 2022, at the 44th International Conference on Coordination Chemistry (ICCC 2022) in Rimini, Italy, I found myself walking back to the hotel with a publishing professional I had just met. It was an unplanned 20-minute walk, but the conversation we had would shape the trajectory of my career. She spoke about her work, how she collaborates with authors and reviewers, shapes research narratives, upholds ethical standards, and ensures that knowledge reaches the world clearly and credibly. What struck me most was how deeply connected she was to the scientific community, not as a researcher in the lab, but as someone who helps bring research to life. She meets scientists from around the world, learns about their work, and plays a part in making sure that their discoveries don’t just sit in a drawer or a data file but reach the world in a form that matters.

Something shifted for me during that walk. It felt like someone had turned on a light in a room I didn’t know existed. That initial spark stayed with me.

Later, during my postdoctoral research, I attended a seminar on publication ethics and peer review. This time, it was an editor explaining the editorial workflow, the logic of peer review, the behind-the-scenes of decision-making, and the complex handling of research integrity issues. I listened, transfixed.

That was the moment I understood something fundamental: research and publishing are not separate endeavors; they’re two halves of the same whole. You can conduct the most rigorous research in the world, but unless it is published thoughtfully and ethically, its impact is limited. Publishing is not simply the endpoint of research — it is its amplification.

If research is the voice, publishing is the microphone.

Bridging the Gap: Training Researchers for the Publishing World

Despite publishing being such a critical component of a research career, most PhD and post-doctoral students receive no formal training in how to engage with it.

We fumble through our first submissions, unsure of how to choose a journal, format a manuscript, interpret reviewer comments, or navigate ethical guidelines. We often learn through rejection, delay, or silence. Concepts like author responsibilities, open access, copyright, and COPE guidelines remain vague until they suddenly matter.

Why don’t PhD programs teach this? Why are the foundations of scholarly publishing not part of the scholarly training?

Workshops, modules, or even short courses could empower early-career researchers with a better understanding of how knowledge dissemination works — not just from the lab bench, but from the editorial desk as well. This would strengthen both the researcher and the research itself. Fortunately, many scholarly publishers have begun to recognize this need and are stepping up to fill the gap. The American Chemical Society (ACS) offers the ACS Author Lab, a free, on-demand course designed to help researchers navigate manuscript preparation, journal selection, ethical publishing practices, and peer review.

Similarly, Elsevier has launched the Researcher Academy, a comprehensive e-learning platform offering modules on everything from writing and publishing to research visibility and ethics. Springer Nature and the Royal Society of Chemistry (RSC) also provide tailored resources and training for early-career researchers, helping them understand the publishing landscape and build essential skills for long-term success.

These initiatives are more than just educational tools — they’re invitations. Invitations to see publishing not as a postscript to research, but as a vital part of the scientific process itself.

Publishing as a Continuation, Not an Exit

We need to reframe the idea that moving into publishing is “leaving” science. It’s not.

It’s choosing to support science differently — to safeguard its integrity, shape its narrative, and help it reach its audience. It’s also a career path that values curiosity, critical thinking, collaboration, and purpose — all the reasons many of us entered science in the first place.

My journey from academia to publishing wasn’t a detour. It was a realignment. I found work that spoke to both my scientific training and my broader interests. Every day, I support researchers and help bring scientific work into the world — clearly, ethically, and impactfully.

We owe it to the next generation of researchers to show them that this is not only possible, but powerful.

So the next time a PhD student asks, “What can I do with this degree?”, let’s not default to industry, consulting, or “keeping at it.” Let’s also talk about the desks behind the discoveries, the ones making sure “science is seen, understood, and trusted”.