I did it. I am a published author.
I am now a legit verified source, according to three anonymous strangers. Yep, they peer reviewed my paper, accepted it, and officially christened me into academia-snobbery.
My journey to becoming a card-carrying member of scholarly elitism wasn’t easy. It felt like a crash course in academic pain and suffering. What I thought would be a simple writing exercise became a twelve-round fight. My opponent wasn’t the paper itself, it was the process behind it.
But despite all of the moments of agony (and almost defeat), the experience was low-key worth it. Research exists to share knowledge, help others learn, and move fields forward. And I didn’t do it alone. This paper is the result of the collective effort and support of my co-authors, Arun, Dave, and Deniz, who I now refer to as Cite Club.
Looking back, the process was hard, but totes worth taking.
And totes worth sharing. Because when I shared my hellish battle from pixels to publication with friend and colleague, Paul, he said, “Wow, you make me want to write a paper!”
It wasn’t the response I expected.
I wasn’t trying to sell him on it. In fact, I described the whole the experience as the most miserable misadventure. It was full of obnoxious challenge(r)s, seemingly endless revisions, riddled with self-doubt, and bouts with an absurdly steep learning curve. I guess what Paul heard wasn’t the struggle. It was the opportunity.
So, I figured I’d share my story. If it inspired Paul, maybe it’ll inspire you too.
Round 1
My manuscriptastrophe started back in 2024, when we began to see the funding cuts take effect at NASA. The application we were building, CyberSAM (Cyber Situational Awareness Application for Space Missions), was under the federal-budget-knife. My main Cite Club co-author, Arun, encouraged me to write a paper documenting the human-centered design process we applied to CyberSAM.
In typical Joyce-style, without thinking, I immediately said, “Yes!”, not knowing what I had just agreed to. I spent years designing products, not writing papers, and I didn’t know where to start.
One thing was obvious: I couldn’t approach it the way I approach my blog posts. Academic papers are technical, structured, and evidence-driven. There is no room for clever portmanteaus (manuscriptastrophe, anyone?), catchy puns (You do not talk about Cite Club), or any of my pop culture inspired animated GIFs.
Frankenwords, dad jokes, and GIFs… (oh my!) In the scholarly big leagues, none of those things are considered valid citations. And so began my twelve-round bout with academic publishing.
Round 2
I sat paralyzed by this blank page. How do I write an academic paper? Where do I even start? Why am I doing this? Will anyone truly understand my work? After my brief detour into existential academic uncertainty, I remembered a talk I had given at UCLA the year before. My friend and colleague, Lynn, had invited me to speak to her class, and I used CyberSAM as a case study. I shared my approach for turning research insights into user-friendly designs. The story was there, I just needed to write it down.
I figured that if the presentation was good enough to teach a class at UCLA, it’s probably good enough for a paper too. So I dusted off the slide deck and used it as the foundation of our writing. Genius.
Rounds 3-8
Over the next few months, Arun and I got to work, meeting weekly to review and refine the paper. Arun focused on the introduction and conclusion, while I handled the core sections. After weeks of back-and-forth revisions, we emerged with a 17-page paper featuring 17 images. Coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe I just can’t go a full page without a visual.
We had our 17-page final draft (!) Then Arun left JPL (!!) A year later, I left JPL (!!!)
Our paper never made it out into the world. It sat quietly in a Google Doc. It was like we had spent months training but never stepped into the ring.
Round 9
Earlier this year, I was catching up with my friend Dave and mentioned the paper Arun and I had written while we were at JPL. He thought it had potential as a poster at ACM CHI Conference and offered to help us get it into CHI-poster-shape. We welcomed him aboard as a co-author.
As things started to look promising, self-doubt set in once again. I had just signed up for more work, more revisions, and more opportunities to question my life choices. At this point, I was starting to wonder if I actually enjoyed suffering.
The suffering continues… this time from Google Docs, and into Overleaf-misery. I dusted off the paper and got to work. I had never used Overleaf or written in LaTeX before. Suddenly I was learning new software \emph{and} a new language.
Round 10
And then came another blow: CHI allowed 6 pages, and our paper was 17. So, I knocked out 16 of the 17 images, trimming it down to 9 pages, but it was still 3 pages over the limit. Cutting those images hurt; they weren’t just pretty pictures, they helped tell the story. Fortunately, solution-man Dave suggested creating a supplemental PDF to accompany the paper. The images would live there, along with descriptions and supporting context for reference.
Getting the paper from 9 pages down to 6 was far harder than removing the images. Every paragraph and every sentence seemed necessary. I’m sure I drove my co-authors crazy with my endless questions and periodic declarations that academic writing is, in fact, a stupid endeavor.
We did it. 6 pages, without losing context.
Round 11
We brought Deniz in as our final co-author. He provided a final set of sanity checks on the paper before submission. Since he was still at JPL, he was able to shepherd it through the Unlimited Release System (URS), JPL’s official documentation approval process.
Surprisingly, URS clearance was the easiest part of the entire process. It seemed like the hard part was over.
Then I met TAPS. TAPS, the ACM Publishing System, is the champion of frustration. The instructions were cluttered and confusing. I spent countless hours exchanging emails and submitting support tickets with ACM support trying to figure it out. There were so many moments I was ready to throw in the towel. After all those months of work, was I really going to be defeated by a this silly publishing system?!?
While I was locked in a grueling match with TAPS, Arun and Dave focused on citations and references. I eventually called them for help, and thankfully Dave, already well-acquainted with TAPS, got everything into submission shape, including the supplemental materials. Then, at long last, we hit submit.
And, we waited.
Our fate, and my hopes of joining academia’s cool kids club, rested in the hands of the high priests of peer review.
Round 12 – Final Round
One month later, we got the news: our paper was accepted. It was a split decision. 2 of 3 reviewers saw value in our work and provided constructive feedback. The third reviewer actually rejected us 🙁 We addressed the comments, refined the paper, and sent in our final submission.
Wrap Up
What I eventually learned is that there is an art to academic writing. It’s not just about telling a story, but about proving one. It requires formatting rules, evidence for every claim, meticulous citations, and more LaTeX quirks than anyone should reasonably wrestle with. Along the way, Dave even taught me a few tricks, like shrinking the hero image to reclaim precious space for text. In our 6-page title fight, every square inch mattered.
We went the distance. And I survived. Writing the paper was far more challenging than I ever expected. It demanded collaboration, persistence, and endless revisions. But despite the struggle, it was worth it. Academic papers don’t just document knowledge—they share it. They give others something to build on, challenge, and apply.
Case in point: a LinkedIn connection recently told me they used our paper to persuade stakeholders at a business travel company to adopt a user-centered approach. “They built it for space missions, we’re building it for business travel,” he wrote. That’s the benefit of publishing—ideas can translate across domains.
As for me, I’m not sure another paper is in my future. I think I’ll stick to creative writing, where I can invent words, make fun puns, and use GIFs that perfectly capture the moment.
