Working Scientist

Yasmin Proctor-Kent likens sewing to science. “I find them really hard to separate them in my brain. I don’t think I can sew without engaging the same part of my brain that I do science with,” she says.

For Proctor-Kent, a research and development scientist at the cancer diagnostics company Leica Biosystems, based in Melbourne, Australia, the two pursuits require similar approaches, relying on her own and others’ prior knowledge and expertise, reading papers, or reading from other people who have sewn a similar garment. “It’s about applying theoretical knowledge to something tactile, something practical that you’re doing,” she adds.

In the second episode of a six-part podcast series about creativity in science, Proctor-Kent recounts how she honed her sewing skills during the Covid-19 lockdown before applying to The Great British Sewing Bee, an annual TV competition, reaching the 2025 finals.

Kit, a semi-finalist and mathematician, was similarly creative. “Mathematics and spatial reasoning and 3D plotting and all of that mathematical brain that Kit has, really did apply to the Bee,” she says. “When we were given a sewing pattern and told to make it in two hours…Kit already knew exactly how every single pattern piece fit together.”

Finally, Proctor-Kent urges other scientists to take up a pastime, even if it feels risky. “You get to a point in your career where you have success…you have a fear of being bad, at trying something new. We should all sit in that fear. Allow ourselves to be wrong. Allow ourselves to be bad at stuff. Allow ourselves to be embarrassed.”

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The French biologist and Nobel prizewinner François Jacob talked about day and night science as part of the creative process that underpins research. The former, he argued in his 1988 autobiography, is a “cold, orderly logic” leading to a conclusion of the kind that gets covered in seminars and papers. Night science, in contrast, is a “stumbling, wandering exploration of the natural world.​​​​​​​”

In the first episode of a six-part series about creativity in science, Itai Yanai and Martin Lercher describe how they apply the day/night science concept in their own research and collaborations. Yanai, who studies gene regulation and cellular plasticity at New York University Grossman School of Medicine, recalls telling his lab colleagues to change tack when they get stuck: “We need to snap out of this. We need to zoom out. We need to pop out into the world of night science, into the world of ideas, where we’re going to have to use abstract thinking. We’re going to use every trick we got, And that’s going to give us the way forward.”

Yanai and Lercher, a computational cell biologist at Heinrich Heine University in Düsseldorf, Germany, co-host the Night Science podcast and run workshops outlining the tools required to make science more creative alongside the “executive” process such as running experiments, applying for grants and writing papers.

The two compare performers that pivot between musical genres (Bob Dylan from folk to rock, for example, and Beyoncé from R&B to country) to scientists who change disciplines, bringing the fresh thinking of a “beginner’s mind” to a particular challenge. “You hold no allegiance, no loyalty to any particular idea. Everything is on the table,” concludes Yanai.

Future episodes will explore different approaches to cultivating creativity in science.

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Among the barriers faced by researchers who move abroad to develop their careers is a so-called “hidden curriculum,” says Sonali Majumdar, whose book, Thriving as an International Scientist, was published last year.

Navigating these unwritten rules that cover social norms and cultural expectations, both in the lab and outside work, can feel particularly daunting to scientists who, like her, were born elsewhere, she adds.

In addition, international scientists often have restrictive funding arrangements that tie them to a particular lab or Principal Investigator’s research focus, she says.

US visa restrictions can often mean missing family events back home. Majumdar, for example, who gained a biochemistry and molecular biology PhD from the University of Georgia in Athena in 2014, could not return to India to attend her parents’ funerals. “It was probably the biggest sacrifice I’ve had to make in my life,” she says.

In the final episode of a six-part podcast series covering books about the scientific workplace, Majumdar, who is now assistant Dean for professional development at Princeton University in New Jersey, tells Holly Newson that having a “growth mindset” can help international scientists to thrive abroad.

This means not focusing on problems, but on possibilities and solutions, she says, supported by advisors, mentors, and sponsors.

The US, she says, has a reputation as a melting pot of different cultures, a place to meet colleagues with a shared passion for science and solving problems.

But in the last decade the climate for researchers who relocate there from abroad has become more difficult, she adds.
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Simon May describes his 2025 book Jump! as a new approach to conquering procrastination. Unlike self-help manuals that urge readers to break tasks down into manageable chunks with clear deadlines, May digs into the philosophy of why we put things off.

He also explores not only why we fear career failure but also (more mysteriously, he says) career success, and why boredom and regrets are a “phenomenal wake-up call” to be learnt from.
The modern cult of work, May tells Holly Newson in the penultimate episode of this podcast series about books covering the scientific workplace, forces us onto a productivity treadmill that can sap our motivation.

“If something becomes cold and alienating and simply production-oriented, it ceases to engage,” he says, highlighting some scenarios: “I need to get this out by Monday morning. My competitor in the next lab has produced three papers this year, and I’ve only produced one.”

But how do you make an important personal or professional goal less important, less intimidating, and so more achievable?

May, a visiting professor of philosophy at Kings College London, offers some strategies. This includes how he conquers his own procrastination as a book deadline looms, describing himself as someone who feels “paralyzed” by the importance of the project.

May concludes with a warning about the “mirage of fulfilment” felt by the 19th century Russian author Leo Tolstoy. Aged 50 and at the height of his fame, Tolstoy felt his life was meaningless. “One other thing to avoid is this sense that the destination is the key, that, once reached, will provide a sense of lasting fulfillment.” Instead, he argues, it’s the journey that counts.
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Joseph Jebelli believes burnout and overwork has reached pandemic levels, telling Holly Newson that it kills 750,000 people annually, with three out of five workers struggling to maintain a healthy work-life balance.

His 2025 book, The Brain At Rest, proposes that regular bouts of doing nothing can change your life. Finding time to let your mind wander and take a daily 30-minute nap can make you more creative and efficient, he argues.

In the fourth episode of a six-part podcast series focused on books about the scientific workplace, Jebelli describes the "productivity guilt" he felt during his neuroscience PhD at University College London, where he studied the cell biology of neurodegenerative diseases, followed by a postdoc at the University of Washington, Seattle. "It's the guilt in which you equate your worth as a human being with your output, with how many hours you're in the lab. If it were up to me, there would be a napping room in all laboratories. We have to get it out of our heads that we’re switching off, shirking, or being irresponsible or reckless. We’re actually helping our brains produce our best work.”
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