During my graduate studies, countless workshops taught me one thing: To make it in science, one must design and carry out big projects. As I established my own research lab, a senior colleague encouraged me to try something big. So when I landed an associate professor position, my goal seemed obvious: I should perform big projects. This was the only way to lay a foundation for a successful academic research career. The path, however, would not be as clear as I had pictured.
When I contacted famous researchers to suggest cooperating, as is typically required for high-profile projects, they frequently replied enthusiastically to start, agreeing my project sounded interesting and promising. But when they learned I had just established my lab, they became skeptical and hesitant, ultimately saying no. And when I sought grant funding, my lack of experience and reputation was cited as a reason to deny support for my ambitious proposals.
I spent about two years being stuck in this mindset, excited about my big ideas but making little actual progress, leading to frustration and depression. As I neared my breaking point, I began to ask myself: were big projects really the only route?
When I shifted to small projects, I became brave enough to step into fields I was not familiar with. By reading papers in new areas, I found creative ideas to pursue. When I discussed these adventurous, low-cost projects with early-career researchers, they were glad to cooperate. We secured funding. When I published papers out of these projects, they were not exciting enough to make headlines — but for me, it was a moment of joy and self-contentment.
It has now been 3 years since I embraced this "small" approach. Sometimes senior colleagues say I'm wasting time with projects that aren't important enough. But I disagree. When I do these studies, I also find clues for future big projects. Going forward, I will still commit part of my time to exploring small projects, which I think can help pursue more fundamental questions
