Sometimes, as young academics, we get advice about how to play the “game” of science, meaning there are rules of the game, both explicit and implicit, that we must master to succeed. Used in a cynical way, the metaphor of the “game” implies that things might be rigged against us, and that there are rules we have to learn or manipulate to succeed. Indeed, there are a number of tricks of the trade – systematic ways to respond to a journal editor's “revise and resubmit” decision, or how to compile a tenure dossier – that can make your success as an academic or scientist more likely.

But this book isn't about such tricks.

In fact, we – Roel and Jen – think the “science as game” metaphor can be useful. But thinking about science as a rigged game in which you must always be on your guard, where you are going to be chewed up and spit out by savvier “players,” or where you are stuck playing one stultifying role is of limited usefulness. Instead, we like to think of science as a “game” in its most playful sense, one that invites exploration and venturing into the unknown as “moves,” and discovery as the “prize.” We believe there is an inherent playfulness in the practice of science, and it is probably this playfulness that drew many of us to scientific inquiry in the first place. At its very best, “doing” science is an activity that matches our innate drive to learn and explore new territory. We believe the most successful, joyful scientists are those who are able to keep this spirit of play, even as they also work hard and maintain vibrant personal lives.

This book is about figuring out how to maintain this sense of playfulness and joy as a scientist in the face of pressures to “play the game” in less meaningful ways. Messages about how to succeed as academics, or about the sorry state of the university system today, are often negative or demoralizing, and can leave new faculty members bewildered about what to expect or how to feel and act.