Friday, July 31, 2020
Alternative hypotheses and the Gautham Transform
The most important thing I learned from Gautham was to consider alternative hypotheses. I know this sounds like duh, that’s what I learn in my RCR meetings, “expected outcomes and potential pitfalls” sections of grants, and boring classes on how to do science, but I think that’s because we so rarely see how powerful it is in practice. I think it was one of Gautham’s favorite pastimes, and really exemplified his scientific aesthetic (indeed, he was very well known for demonstrating some alternative hypotheses for carrier multiplication, I believe). There were many, many times Gautham proposed alternative hypotheses in our lab, and it was always illuminating. Indeed, one of the main points of his second paper from the lab was about how one could explain “fluctuations between states” by simple population dynamics without any state switching—a whole paper’s worth of alternative hypothesis!
Why do we generally fail to consider alternative hypotheses? One reason is that it’s scary and not fun. Generally, the hypothesis you want to consider is the option that is the fun one. It is scary to contemplate the idea that something fun might turn out to be something boring. (Gautham and I used to joke that the “Gautham Transform” was taking something seemingly interesting and showing that it was actually boring.) The truth of it, though, is that most things are boring. Sure, in biology, there are a lot more surprises than in, say, physics, but there are still far fewer interesting things than are generally claimed. I think that we would all do better to come in with a stronger prior belief that most findings actually have a boring explanation, and a critical implementation of that belief is to propose alternative hypotheses. Keep in mind also that when we are trained, we typically are presented with a list of facts with no alternatives. This manner of pedagogy leaves most of us with very little appreciation for all the wrong turns that comprise science as it’s being made as opposed to the little diagrams in the textbooks.
The other reason we fail to consider alternatives is that it’s a lot of work. It’s always going to be harder to spend as much time actively thinking of ways to show that your pet theory is incorrect, and so in my experience it’s usually more work to come up with plausible alternative hypotheses. Usually, this difficulty manifests as a proclamation of “there’s just no other way it could be!” Thing is… there’s ALWAYS an alternative hypothesis. All models are wrong. You may get to a point where you just get tired, or the alternatives seem too outlandish, but there’s always another alternative to exclude. I remember as we were wrapping up our transcriptional-scaling-with-cell-size manuscript, we got this cool result suggesting that transcription was cut in half upon DNA replication (decrease in burst frequency). I was really into this idea, and Gautham was like, that’s really weird, there must be some other explanation. I was like, I can’t think of one, and I remember him saying “Well, it’s hard, but there has to be something, what you’re proposing is really weird”. So… I spent a couple days thinking about it, and then, voila, an alternative! (The alternative was a global decrease in transcription in S-phase, which Olivia eliminated with a clever experiment measuring transcription from a late-replicating gene.) Point is, it’s hard but necessary work.
(Note: I’m wondering about ways to actively encourage people to consider alternatives on a more regular basis. One suggestion was to stop, say, group meeting somewhere in the middle and just explicitly ask everyone to think of alternatives for a few minutes, then check in. Another option (HT Ben Emert) is to have a lab buddy who’s job is to work with you to challenge hypotheses. Anybody have other thoughts?)
So when do you stop making alternatives? I think that’s largely a matter of taste. At some point, you have to stand by a model you propose, exclude as many plausible alternatives as you can, and then acknowledge that there are other possible explanations for what you see that you just didn’t think of. Progress continues, excluding one alternative at a time…
“Hipster” overlay journals
Friday, July 17, 2020
My favorite "high yield" guides to telling better stories
Guest post by Eric Sanford
In medical school, we usually have five lectures’ worth of new material to memorize each day. Since we can’t simply remember it all, we are always seeking “high yield” resources (a term used so often by med students that it quickly becomes a joke): those concise one or two-pagers that somehow contain 95 percent of what we need to know for our exams. My quest of finding the highest yield resources has continued in full force after becoming a PhD student.
A major goal of mine has been to improve my scientific communication skills (you know, writing, public speaking, figure-making… i.e. those extremely-important skills that most of us scientists are pretty bad at), and I’ve come across a few very high yield resources as I’ve worked on this. Here are my favorites so far:
Resonate, by Nancy Duarte:
The best talks are inspiring, but “be more inspiring” is not easy advice to follow.
This book teaches you how to turn your content into a story that inspires an audience.
I received extremely positive feedback and a lot of audience questions the first time I gave a talk where I tried to follow the suggestions of this book.
This was both the most fun and the most useful of all my recommendations.
The Visual Display of Quantitative Information, by Edward Tufte:
Tufte is probably the most famous “data visualization” guru, and I think this book, his first book, is his best one. (I’ve flipped through the sequels and would also recommend the chapter on color from “Envisioning Information.”)
This book provides a useful framework for designing graphics that convey information in ways that are easy (easier?) for readers to understand. Some pointers include removing clutter, repeating designs in “small multiples”, labeling important elements directly, and using space consistently when composing multiple elements in the same figure.
The Elements of Style, by Strunk and White, pages 18-25:
Available at http://www.jlakes.org/ch/web/The-elements-of-style.pdf
Pages 18-25 are especially high yield and provide concrete advice (with examples) on how to make stylistic changes that make writing both more efficient, specific, and enjoyable to read.
Words to Avoid When Writing, by Arjun Raj
Available at https://docs.google.com/document/d/1r6nDcF43esu3xBjmk3ERAmaEHKEB75_HflSkk3zZhBk/edit
Turns out this blog’s creator has learned a few things about science writing!
This is an important list to review when writing a grant or publication: each of the words, while commonly used, are a sign of sloppy thinking.
Each word has a worked example for how to replace it with something better.
Raj Lab basic Adobe Illustrator (CC) guide, by Connie Jiang
Available at https://docs.google.com/document/d/1TXmbltzBPcApCcuJ9HLOIQgWPqKylrFRWRudrN-5vBE/edit#heading=h.or1to9c1y8il
If you have access to Illustrator, this is a fantastic resource for making or improving scientific figures.
Worth reading each page, but also a great reference for specific problems or questions.
There are many other great resources out there that are also worth going through if you have the time (Style: Lessons in Clarity and Grace by Bizup and Williams is another excellent writing guide), but for me these ones above had the highest amount-learned-per-minute-of-concentration-invested.
Guest post by Eric Sanford