How I recovered from a collaboration gone wrong

From ScienceMag:

The rejection email from an elite journal was still fresh when my two co-authors and I jumped on a Zoom call to commiserate. When I suggested another outlet we could try next, I was shocked by their immediate and vehement opposition. That’s when everything unraveled. They already had a paper under review there. I’d known about their other project using the same data set. But their paper had morphed substantially since I’d last seen it. Now, it looked disturbingly similar to ours. I was livid. This was my idea from the start. I had invested nearly 3 years working on it. Learning they had poached it felt like a huge betrayal—and transformed my approach to collaboration.

My academic career started auspiciously with two fast, singleauthored publications. But when I pivoted from economics to business and management, I got nothing but rejections for a couple long years. I was an outsider in the field of management studies, and I thought collaboration would help me out of this quagmire. Increasingly I worked with co-authors, seeking mentorship from senior ones and complementarities and energy from the junior ones. The result was multiple publications, conference invitations, and a growing network of collaborators. I thought I had mastered the game and that “we” was the answer—until that Zoom call.

I reached out to several senior journal editors for guidance and solutions. Dishearteningly, all advised me to drop it; authorship disputes, they said, are messy affairs where nobody wins. I felt utterly powerless. My health deteriorated, especially my mental state. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t work, couldn’t even enjoy time with my family.

Nevertheless, I followed my heart and decided to fight back. I wrote to the journal where my former co-authors’ paper was under review. The journal ultimately rejected their paper—but based on reviewer recommendations, not ethical grounds. I contacted ethics officers at my institution and one of theirs. Though initially sympathetic, their message was consistent: Drop it, it’s messy, no one wins. Professional organizations to which we all belonged shrugged off my inquiries on the grounds of sporadic membership. I reached out to mutual co-authors from other projects, but they wouldn’t get involved either.

I finally decided to move on and focus on other research. For nearly 2 years I worked alone—until I finally considered reviving the original project, which had never been published. Again, I would have to collaborate with others to put together the underlying data set. This thought filled me with anxiety. But I also knew isolation was not sustainable, and my productivity would suffer.

After much thought, I found someone who seemed like a good fit for the project. Before our first substantive conversation, I proposed something I’d never asked before: a formal collaboration agreement. We outlined roles, established authorship criteria based on concrete contributions, and agreed to document key decisions via email rather than casual chats. A couple of years later, we published the research together using a much larger data set and more sophisticated statistical analyses than before.

Beyond vindication, the lessons I learned have reshaped my approach to collaboration. First, safeguard self-sufficiency. Knowing I can execute and publish high-quality solo research has been my rock throughout these tribulations. Second, vet collaborators carefully. I now approach research partnerships like hiring decisions, checking collaborators’ work, asking around, and taking time to decide on new endeavors. Third, always protect yourself. Before sharing ideas, I establish clear collaboration agreements. I settle matters in writing, documenting key conversations and milestones, as these records prove invaluable if things go sideways.

After 16 years in academia, I’ve become more selective about collaboration. It remains a joy and a blessing, but I’ve also learned how quickly “we” can turn wicked. The key is choosing your partnerships wisely and keeping “I” as a strong safety net.

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