Thoughts from a 3 week-old medical writer

Until 2016, I did not know who medical writers were or what they did. I would have imagined them to be people who wrote articles on health and disease for magazines, books or websites. Neither did I have much insight into the pharmaceutical industry. I had no idea about how much the pharma industry had evolved since my days as a medical student. I was totally unaware of how technology had knit the pharma industry closely to both clinical research and to healthcare practice (I will not get into the controversies here).

I suppose the most important outcome of it all was that creating content became the central focus of the pharma industry. Whether it was creating content pertaining to clinical trials and their documentation, creating content for new drug applications/FDA submissions, or creating content for education of healthcare practitioners on specific product profiles, content became the heart and soul of the industry. So while I was still distant from all these developments, the pharma industry was evolving rather quickly into an industry that was creating opportunities for roles different from the stereotype. Creating content involved a synergy between different disciplines- medical science, clinical research, language, technology, art and business. It required a bit of everything. And so, people from all educational backgrounds found a place in pharma- people with a pharm D or a Master’s in Life Sciences or an MBA, research scholars, medical doctors and dentists, and many more.

I moved in without any of these insights. I moved in because as fate may have it, I had given a talk at a corporate in Bangalore, and I found myself attracted to the work culture- to the energy and the exposure. To me, it was a welcome change from the monotony and dispassionate environment of academic institutions (it didn’t matter that teaching was my first love!). Besides, I was exploring job opportunities that would enable me to move back to Bangalore, especially jobs that provided some kind of a security, a reasonable income and flexibility. Ten years in Kerala were enough to realize that professionally, there was nothing to look forward to here. I missed meeting inspiring people, I missed the kind of interactions that I was used to, and I especially missed the nature of conversations at work- both professional and personal. I felt my personality would wither away if I worked in Kerala.

My first break did not come through easily. At interviews, I was told that 12 years of academic experience, with no prior corporate work experience, would make it difficult for me to adapt to corporate culture at this stage. However, I did not give up. The first break finally came through. I landed a job as a medical reviewer at an organization. Looking at it retrospectively, I feel it was the perfect place to begin. My job was not intellectually challenging, but it was here that I learnt the corporate processes and familiarized myself with the workflow and with team structures. I also learnt a bit about the pharma industry and I picked up as much as information as I could.

I was a little uncertain about the direction that I ought to take. For a while, I did think about pursuing a role in Medical Affairs. However, I also felt that most of these roles did not offer flexibility and flexibility was an absolute requirement for me at this point in time. Also, I suppose my primary love was always for content. I had once read a medical writer’s blog. “I love thinking science, rather than doing science”, she had written. These words had somehow caught on to me; I felt these were the very words that words described me. As fate had it, I got into a content writing role.

It has been only 3 weeks since I stepped into the shoes of a medical writer. I must say the experience has been interesting, while also being challenging and demanding. I have largely found myself oscillating between wanting to do this all my life to wanting to give up the role every day. Never before have I felt so torn between such conflicting emotions- at least, not at work! What is exciting about the role is that it is intellectually engaging and highly creative, considering that it bridges science and art. There is a sense of exhilaration in being a part of diverse scientific engagements happening at different levels in different parts of the world with different objectives. There is also the exhilaration of devouring research trends. Where are we in the management of a certain disease? What are the gaps in treatment? What are the emerging therapies? Where is the focus of research? This is fascinating. I feel that I am back at the doorstep of medical science- an extension of the clinical years of medical school when we learnt beautiful things about diseases and drugs. I used to be in love with medical science. Medical writing has connected me to that love, after these long years of being away from the practice of Medicine.

The screen time is perhaps the most difficult part of medical writing. Work never ends. There is always something to revise, something to add, something to complete.

As time goes by, I will add to these initial insights. I put this out here, hoping that this may help somebody like me who wants to understand if medical writing is right for them.

The language of the heart

I was aching to talk. To listen, and to talk. But the language all around me was so alien. This was not how we used to talk in those days. Ours was a different language. It was the language of the heart. We used to weep and sigh, giggle and shriek. Even as adults, we were wrapped up in the innocence of childhood. Professionalism had not invaded our personal spaces. Professionalism at work was still connected to ethics and to humanity. We devoured the world with beating hearts. We were never embarrassed by our poverty, struggle or hardships. We had the ability to be comfortable with being a nobody- an insignificant human being, happy in his small universe. We never thought much of ourselves- we were happy just lighting up our small universe. Our needs were simple, and we knew nothing of strategy or manipulation.

The simplicity and magic of that beating, throbbing world is now replaced by an alien nature. Human beings have imprisoned themselves in complex mazes. The world now talks in the language of business. Our lives are business models, governed by lifeless processes, meaningless goals, business strategies and soulless communication. The human being within us is long dead. We build business stories that sell, but the story of our lives is empty and vacant. Our experiences are business stories; but the experiences that are nurtured by an emotional engagement with the world, and that connect with the wisdom of life, are dwindling. We have nothing interesting to tell the world, apart from our success stories. In the scheme of life, the stories of failure and adversity win the greatest medals. The philosophy of business so often conflicts with the philosophy of life. When we transform our lives into businesses, we move closer to depression. After all, successful businesses so often thrive on a certain ability at numbness- erasing out the ability to feel is an essential quality in business.

To meet human beings, to revive the ability to feel, and to hear the language of the heart, one has to revisit the past- through books, through movies. We meet real human beings here. This is where I spend most of my time. Perhaps this is how I have preserved my ability to feel intensely, despite the world. And thereby saved myself from depression!

The conscious life

I once wrote that the most intimate stranger I have known is my mind. I house my mind, but the moments when I catch a glimpse of my mind, with nothing intervening between us, are very rare. I can always feel my mind, without any barriers. However, these feelings are only the emotional layer of my mind. They are not the seat of my mind. There is something deeper where the essence of my mind resides. An essence of instincts perhaps, that propels me. That is where my motivation resides. These instincts are automatically propelling me towards the creative purpose of my life.

However, the material world is also propelling me. The material journey is more visible, and we therefore pay more attention to this journey. The spiritual journey reveals itself on occasion, and if one can increase one’s sensitivity to this journey and bring it to awareness in progressive steps, the conflicts between the material and spiritual journey can also perhaps be resolved.

In this context, I cannot help contrasting city life with life in the villages. Solitude in city life so often breeds loneliness and emptiness. Within the four walled apartments, within the confines of a cab, within the walls of the systems that imprison city dwellers, the easiest way out of misery is to be busy. The best way to be busy is to work. Work comes in as a relief, even if it means opportunistic capitalism at its worst. Corporate work spaces create an additional prison- they provide all the conveniences within the confines of the office space so that people are motivated to spend most of their time in office. They provide a lifestyle that can easily buy people. What we fail to realize is that once we have pledged our time- our leisure, our personal space, we have given away the most valuable aspect of all that constitutes ‘us’. The spontaneity that is necessary for our instincts to propel us, is restricted by the extraneous forces that are now steering us towards a different outcome- a destination that is not perhaps ours.

Solitude in the villages, is a different story. There is the companionship of nature. It is here that we truly learn to engage with ourselves. One does not feel the compulsion of being ‘busy’. A small village can actually provide an educated individual plenty of opportunity. Education can become a powerful tool in these villages. Villages are perhaps platforms where one’s education can be put to real use. This may not be an easy task, but if one is willing to work at the grass root level and identify the deficiencies, the lacunae, the challenges, and gauge where one fits in best, the skills learnt in the city can be valuable. The meaning that one derives out of such an endeavor that amounts to social transformation and human empowerment, is far beyond what can be achieved in our corporate offices. There is more scope for real innovation and creativity in such endeavors, quite unlike many corporations where ‘innovation’ and ‘creativity’ are mere wall art.

The greatest challenge is perhaps in helping the majority become aware of the prisons they have unknowingly locked themselves into, and in breaking the cycle of material addiction. This is perhaps the need of the hour. The creative purpose of our lives is aligned to the integrity of the planet. A step in this direction can save us as well as the planet.