Submitting for Success: Original Research Article or Brief Report?

Posted on October 19, 2026 by | Leave a comment
by Bryce Ringwald, MD

I was recently working with a research team on a CERA study that had just been completed and data analyzed. The team was reviewing the results of the study in preparation for writing the manuscript. Before typing a single word, our team had a decision to make. We debated for some time and found ourselves toggling between two tabs on the Family Medicine website: Original Research and Brief Report.

It’s a familiar moment in most medical education research studies when the real question becomes: What is the right format for telling this based on the type and quality of the data?

This decision isn’t about prestige or hierarchy. A brief report is not “less than” an original research article. A brief report does not have a lower bar for acceptance than an original research article. It’s simply a different way of communicating scholarship. The challenge is knowing which format fits your study best.

Choosing the right format helps reviewers understand your intentions, helps editors see the value of your work, and helps readers grasp your contribution quickly. It’s also an act of scholarly honesty: matching the scope of your study to the appropriate venue. The format you choose shapes how your work is received, and how effectively it communicates what you’ve learned.

Many family medicine journals (including JABFM and Annals of Family Medicine) have multiple formats and categories to tell the story of the study. Referencing the Author Guidelines is imperative each time you write a manuscript. Here’s a practical breakdown of what the journal Family Medicine looks for in each format.

Original Research ArticleBrief Report
Word limit≤3,000 words≤1,200 words
AbstractStructured, ≤250 wordsStructured, ≤250 words
Tables/figures≤5 combined≤3 combined
References≤75 References≤50 References
Best for– Multi-site studies
– Longitudinal studies
– Mixed-methods or complex designs
– Rich qualitative analyses
– National surveys (CERA)
– Studies with multiple outcomes or substantial methodological detail		– Pilot studies
– Small trials in a single program
-Single-site surveys
– Small descriptive studies
– Early-phase innovations
– Focused qualitative insights that can be conveyed succinctly
Typical features– Full background section
– Detailed methods
– Comprehensive results
– Clear implications for practice, education, or policy		– Tight background (only essential context)
– Streamlined methods
– One primary finding
– Appropriately scoped conclusions

One pattern often seen in submissions is authors trying to force a study into the wrong format. A complex, multi-site project with several outcomes simply can’t be compressed into a brief report without losing essential detail, yet people try. For many they’re hoping for a quicker path to publication. On the flip side, some authors stretch a small, single-site study into an original research article, adding unnecessary background or over-interpreting modest findings to make the work seem more substantial. The editor in chief will notice this and send back manuscripts that are forced into a wrong category prior to peer review. Another frequent issue is overwriting the background section of a brief report; these papers work best when the context is tight and purposeful, not expansive. Perhaps the most common pitfall of all is the temptation to make grand, sweeping conclusions from small datasets. It’s natural to want your work to feel big, but the strongest papers, regardless of format, are the ones that stay true to the scope of the study and let the data speak for themselves.

Writing is hard. Choosing a format is part of that challenge. But both formats are valued, respected, and needed in our discipline. The best choice is the one that captures your data and serves your readers.

When we finally chose to write a Brief Report, it wasn’t because our CERA study was small. It was because the story I needed to tell was focused, clear, and concise. That was exactly the right way to share it.

Your study has a story too. Choose the format that lets it shine.

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Posted in Education, Faculty Development, Family Medicine Journal, Reading, Research, writing

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The Silence Between Questions

Posted on August 10, 2026 by | Leave a comment
by Crystel Harb, DO, MPH, DipABLM

Clinic was already running behind when she knocked on my office door. The fluorescent glow of the computer screen was the only light in the office. Outside, the clinic hummed with a sense of muted urgency. My resident looked flushed, a stack of papers with her laptop pressed to her chest like a shield. “Can you come in with me to see this patient?” she asked, voice steady but just above a whisper.

In the hallway, my resident, an incoming intern, confessed, “I’m nervous. I’ve never managed uncontrolled diabetes with complications alone.” I nodded, remembering my own first time managing a patient with complex co-morbidities, noting the slight tremor in her voice as she spoke. “We’ll do it together. You’ll lead the history; I’ll guide the plan.”

The patient was a middle-aged man with diabetes A1c of 10%, knees stiff from years of construction work, eyes tired in a way that went deeper than lack of sleep. He’d been in before, cycling through medications, labs, and referrals, but today he had one simple question: “Why does it feel like I’m doing everything, and nothing is changing?”

The resident shifted in her chair. She clicked her pen twice, then began reciting the script: lab results, adjustments to medications, a reminder about diet and exercise. Her words sounded correct, but the man’s eyes only grew duller, his shoulders slumping as if each phrase added weight instead of relief.

I felt the tug – the urge to step in, smooth the moment over, offer the polished blend of empathy and clinical advice that years of practice had made second nature. But I caught myself. I remembered being in her place, decades ago, stumbling through the space between a patient’s frustration and my own fear of failing them. My attending hadn’t rescued me then. They had let me sit in the discomfort until I realized that sometimes what mattered wasn’t my answer, but my listening.

So I stayed quiet.

The resident hesitated, sensing the silence stretch, and then something shifted. She leaned forward, softened her voice, and asked, “Can you tell me what feels hardest for you right now?”

The man looked up, surprised. His story tumbled out – not about A1cs or medication side effects, but about loneliness, missing work, the way cooking for one made meals feel meaningless. The resident nodded, asked gentle questions, let the pauses breathe. By the end of the visit, no miracle had occurred – his numbers hadn’t improved, his diagnoses hadn’t vanished – but his shoulders lifted, and there was a flicker of relief in his eyes. Someone had heard him.

After he left, the resident turned to me, cheeks flushed again, but this time with something different. “I almost lost him,” she admitted. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“You didn’t lose him,” I said. “You found the right question.”

That afternoon lingered long after the clinic emptied. I thought about the time I’d spent chasing efficiency, perfecting phrases, convincing myself that being a good doctor meant always knowing the right answer. But teaching has taught me otherwise. Sometimes the most important lessons come in the moments when we resist the urge to rescue and instead let silence guide our learners toward their own voice.

In that quiet moment, I realized: teaching was not a one-way street, but a circular, dynamic process. By guiding others, they were forced to articulate, to reflect, to confront their own limitations and hopes.

And in that silence, I remembered too: medicine isn’t just about solving problems. It’s about sitting in the spaces where problems can’t be solved quickly and learning to be present anyway.

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Growing Your Writing Practice

Posted on July 14, 2026 by | 1 comment
by Sarina Schrager, MD, MS, Family Medicine Editor-in-Chief, and Jose Rodriguez, MD, FAAFP

“It’s none of their business that you have to learn how to write. Let them think you were born that way.”

—Ernest Hemingway

Writing is hard; there are no two ways about it. Starting a paper or narrative can be daunting. How should I start? What if it is not good? Will anyone want to read it? These questions arise even for accomplished writers. The best writers still work very hard at writing. In this blog, I share lessons I have learned during more than 30 years of writing in academic family medicine, along with resources I have found helpful. I encourage you to read these suggestions and share what works for you.

Find Time to Write and Block Your Schedule

It may seem like an oversimplification to say, “Just find the time to write.” We all know it can be difficult to fit writing into busy schedules filled with clinical, teaching, and administrative responsibilities. However, if you do not block time on your calendar to write, writing will continually be pushed to the bottom of your to-do list. You have to make the time to write.

In his 2009 article, “Tuesdays to Write,” Lowenstein describes restructuring his schedule so that his academic work occurred on Tuesdays, allowing him to carve out dedicated writing time each week.1 Some people write best early in the morning, whereas others are most productive late at night. For example, I write best early in the morning, whereas a colleague does their best writing at night. After 4 PM, my writing brain simply does not work.

Similarly, some people can write productively during a spontaneous 30-minute opening in their schedule, whereas others need at least a 2-hour block. Consider scheduling dedicated “writing time” on your calendar so other meetings are less likely to replace it.

Plan to Revise

“Almost all good writing begins with terrible first efforts. You need to start somewhere.”

—Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

Becoming a good writer—or producing good writing—takes time, effort, and multiple revisions. In Draft No. 4, John McPhee describes routinely writing at least 4 drafts of every manuscript.2 By the fourth draft, the manuscript has usually become coherent enough to share with others. His process can be summarized as follows:

  • Draft 1: Get something on the page.
  • Draft 2: Develop your argument.
  • Draft 3: Refine word choice and improve the flow of your argument.
  • Draft 4: Polish the writing, use a thesaurus if needed, and read the manuscript aloud.

Ask for Feedback

Once you reach Draft 4, you are ready to seek feedback. Many authors submit manuscripts without asking colleagues or friends to review them first. Although the peer-review process provides valuable suggestions, colleagues often identify many of the same opportunities for improvement before submission.

There are several low-stress ways to receive feedback. An accountability partner or writing partner (eg, Prolific Partners) can be helpful. Writing groups are another excellent option because everyone shares their work, reducing the self-consciousness that often accompanies sharing your writing.

Reflect on Your Writing Process

Everyone writes differently, so there is no single perfect list of writing tips. Think about the times when you are most productive. Where were you? What time of day was it? What aspects of the setting contributed to your productivity?

Before I begin writing, I spend time thinking about how I want to structure the piece and how I want to begin. I create an outline, although it often resembles a stream of consciousness. Draft 1 is the hardest part for me because getting started is difficult. Once I have something on the page, revision becomes much easier.

Others find drafting easy but struggle with editing, searching endlessly for the “perfect” word. Still others never reach Draft 4 because they continually discover new ways to improve a sentence. Every writer is different.

Other strategies may also improve writing productivity. Consider working on 2 projects simultaneously. Pairing a small project with a larger one—or a challenging project with one you enjoy—allows you to switch between them and maintain momentum. Joining a writing challenge can also provide encouragement and accountability. Writing challenges vary in length, lasting anywhere from 1 week to 1 month, but they all encourage participants to write consistently each day.

The STFM community is filled with prolific, talented writers. What strategies have helped you develop your writing practice?

References

  1. McPhee J. Draft No. 4. Farrar, Straus and Giroux; 2017.
  2. Lowenstein SR. Tuesdays to Write: A Guide to Time Management in Academic Emergency Medicine. Acad Emerg Med. 2009.

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