This post originally appeared on the
SME community, July 2012.
A colleague used to call it the recipe section, but it’s more often
called Materials and Methods, Experimental or Experimental Procedures.
No matter what the name, it’s about as interesting to read as a basting
recipe. Which is to say: writing it is the equivalent of eating your
broccoli. When you’re stuck, it can be the best place to get unstuck,
because it’s really just about putting one foot in front of the other,
right? First we washed the samples, then we dried them. Then we put them
in a solution of 5% this, 8% that, 7 %
3M solution – et cetera. I’m starting to yawn already.
The M&M section is so dull that high-profile journals pressed for space have begun putting them at the
end of the article, or
omitting them
from the print version altogether. Most other journals still retain the
M&M in the traditional place: between the introduction and the
results, but even there the section is often overlooked. Who needs this
section unless you’re planning on replicating the experiment in the
grand scientific tradition, am I right?
Wrong. Understanding how the experiments were set up, what parameters
were used, which temperatures and times were applied, is one of the
most critical elements of the paper, and understanding the sexy parts of
the paper – the conclusions and its larger implications for science and
for life – is impossible without a solid grounding in the methods used
to obtain the results upon which the conclusion rests.
Take, for example, the following responses of three different reviewers to a recent paper submitted to
Minerals & Metallurgical Processing:
1. “As presented the manuscript is NOT suitable for publication. This
is not meant to necessarily be a criticism of the experimental work
that was undertaken, but more a reflection that the manuscript provides
insufficient information, especially for the experimental and analysis
section relating to the XPS. As this is germane to the whole paper, the
manuscript needs to be substantially revised. As it currently stands a
reader is not able to actually follow what was done – which is one of
the basic principles in writing a manuscript.
For example; the experimental section simply indicates that the
instrument was a PHI5500. No useful further information is given.
Essential that analyzer conditions, scan times, channel widths etc are
all provided.
Was the standard dual source used (i.e. un-monochromated Mg Ka
radiation)? Or was it monochromated? This has a substantial bearing on
the spectra. Most mono’s tend to run off Al Ka, so the suspicion is that
it was un-monochromated. If that is indeed the case then the extended
raw data spectrum showing X-ray satellites and background fit should
also be indicated. If a mono was used then the same applies, though a
narrower energy range can be shown.”
2. “What material was used in leaching? Is it ore, flotation concentrate or pure handpicked mineral?”
3. “In figure 7 a plot of molar ratio of chlorate consumed to copper
dissolved is given against time. How is the chlorate consumption
obtained? Nothing is given on that in the materials and methods
section.”
Now, the Materials and Methods section from this paper was 376 words
long – not exhaustive, but definitely there. And yet the material it
presented was inadequate to understand the results obtained.
In order to write an effective Methods section, then, it’s clear that
an author must do more than write a recipe. Every piece of information
must be weighed carefully in light of the results and the information
that is most important to the understanding of the results must be
emphasized. Other material can be summarized or the reader can be
referred to another publication that describes the procedure in more
detail.
Methods: not as easy as they first appear – and not as dull, either.
Emily Wortman-Wunder teaches scientific communication at the University of Colorado Denver.
