The MJA editors are often asked the thorny question — how do I get published? By way of a Christmas gift this year, we have prepared some simple tips. Happily, many of these are mirrored by the offerings we received for our 2007 MJA Christmas Competition. So, using these clever contributions as examples along the way, here is an unofficial (although certainly not complete) guide.

Do submit a decent covering letter with your manuscript — remember that there are real people at the other end (note that the Editor of the MJA is not the same as the Editor of the BMJ, so at least change the addressee when you send it on to us). We also like to think that all your coauthors have played an important part in your work, so remember to make sure all the listed authors actually exist, and try to keep them informed of your paper’s progress. Alternatively, if that all seems too hard, you could just change your name to Et Al, as astutely suggested by Gordon Parker in his useful guide to coauthorship (→ On the breeding of coauthors: just call me Al). You could then at least be certain of citations for ever more!

As editors, we read a lot of papers. And I mean a lot. When an author sends us something new, interesting and well researched (even if it has been to the BMJ first), we recognise it as such. We enjoy helping inexperienced authors, and we like to think it is our job to assist them in the journey to publication. As so eloquently put by Donald D’Arcy Webling in his poem, “Memoria manuum — handprints”: “Regard grew with understanding, confidence and skill”. I once commented to an author that, as editor, I was only the midwife, and that he was the one giving birth to his paper as it went through the publication process. He dryly assured me that he felt it had been a difficult birth, but worth the pain in the long run. At least we at the Journal can offer you pain relief in the birth of your manuscript, in the form of editorial assistance and encouragement; just as in real-life childbirth, an evolution detailed by Caroline de Costa in her article “Snow — at Christmas”, describing Dr John Snow’s contribution to obstetric anaesthesia in the 19th century.

It is always clear when authors are passionate about their cause. The editors are constantly inspired by the work that Australian doctors and researchers do to improve health and encourage learning. We are so fortunate to have shining examples in our midst, like John Whitehall, who gives a moving account of his experience of teaching Tamil Tigers in Sri Lanka (→ Teaching Tamil Tigers), and Mary Lander, who describes her own courageous fight for treatment in the face of numerous obstacles (→ The fight for a life-saving drug: a personal perspective).

It pays to remember that editors don’t eat salami or pizza. No, we are not all on a diet, we just happen to have a nose for research that has been divided, sliced up, reconstituted, or otherwise processed to make it about as palatable as fast food. When faced with such a meal, the editorial committee may adopt the stance described by David Isaacs and colleagues in their extract “From the diary of a novice physician” “the aim of a committee meeting is not to commit to anything”.

Be aware that, as an aspiring author, you need to learn to love criticism — or at least pretend to. Although commonly believed to be a modern-day form of academic water torture, peer review is a mainstay of scientific publishing, and a little education in the taxonomy of that dreaded creature, Reviewer horribilis, will not go astray. We suggest you peruse Edzard Ernst’s learned review on the subject — but not under the Christmas tree if you value your health (→ A beginner’s guide to criticism). See Stuart Smith and James McCallum’s treatise on the dangers of festive season decorations in "We three kings and Christmas trees: pharmacotherapy from presents and diseases from decorations" for more information on this topic.

It is the editors’ unenviable task to make a final decision on the fate of each submitted manuscript and, as much as we enjoy the Christmas Competition, every year we find ourselves in the equally unenviable position of having to choose the winners. In order to share the burden, the entire AMPCo staff is invited to participate in a secret ballot. In the category of “Story”, this year the prize goes to David Isaacs, Stephen Isaacs and Dominic Fitzgerald for their “From the diary of a novice physician”. In the “Snapshot” category, the winners are Anthony Brown and Andrew Bryant for their eerie portrait of a well known cinematic villain emerging from the diverticulum in “The colonoscope strikes back: a diverticular Darth Vader”. Suitable hampers of Christmas cheer are on their way to these worthy winners.

So that’s the MJA Christmas Competition over for another year. We would like to thank all our contributors, congratulate all the finalists, and welcome submissions from enthusiasts both new and old next year. And the secrets of publication? As our Christmas Competition entrants have demonstrated — if you are prepared to weather the weary cynicism engendered by working in the medical field; if you send us the best evidence and your honest interpretation of it; if you love your work and are primed to learn from the experience of your peers; if you can have a laugh at your own expense; and know we at the Journal are here to help in the birth of your genius . . . then you just might survive the publication process, and almost painlessly at that!

Tanya Grassi

Deputy Editor, The Medical Journal of Australia, Sydney, NSW

medjaustATampco.com.au