Academic Writing Examples for a Publishable Research Article

Writing a research article that is genuinely ready for submission to a peer-reviewed journal is a demanding task. It requires more than good ideas, original data, or an interesting perspective. It also requires a specialised type of academic writing that many researchers have never been formally taught. This kind of writing may resemble the essays, reports, and dissertations produced at an advanced stage of university study, but it usually needs to be more tightly structured, more economical with words, and more directly aligned with the expectations of editors, reviewers, and readers in a specific field.

For first-time authors, journal-style writing can feel unfamiliar, stiff, or even artificial. It is also very different from the informal writing that dominates everyday life: emails to colleagues, messages on social media, or summaries for non-specialist audiences. Learning to move comfortably between these modes of writing is an important professional skill. In what follows, we explore examples and principles that can help you develop a publishable academic style: formal without being obscure, precise without being mechanical, and rigorous without losing readability.

1. Why Journal Writing Feels Different

Most academic or scientific journals state their expectations for structure and formatting in detailed author guidelines. These guidelines cover elements such as word limit, section headings, reference style, figure resolution, and layout. They sometimes also mention issues such as tense, voice, and person (“Use the active voice”; “Avoid first-person pronouns”; “Write in past tense when describing methods”). However, they rarely offer a complete account of what makes the writing itself effective. Editors often assume that authors already know how to produce clear academic prose.

In reality, many promising manuscripts are rejected not only for methodological or conceptual weaknesses, but also because the writing is hard to follow. Reviewers may describe such papers as “unclear,” “poorly organised,” “badly written,” or “not ready for publication.” Often this feedback is brief and not very specific, leaving the author unsure how to improve. The absence of detailed comments on style does not mean that style is unimportant; it usually means that reviewers do not have time to teach writing to every author they assess.

This is why it is crucial to treat academic writing as part of your research skill set, rather than as a secondary concern. Understanding what good journal writing looks like—and having concrete examples to emulate—greatly increases the chances that your work will be well received.

2. Learning from Model Articles in Your Field

Every discipline has its own traditions, expectations, and unwritten rules. The most efficient way to grasp them is to read published articles not only for content, but also for style. Choose several recent articles from the journal to which you plan to submit your work. Then reread them as a writing manual.

• Pay attention to how the introduction moves from general background to specific research question.
• Note how methods are described: in how much detail, with how much technical language, and in which tense.
• Examine how results are presented: with how many tables and figures, how much explanation, and how much interpretation.
• Observe the tone of the discussion: cautious or confident, heavily theoretical or mainly empirical, formal or somewhat more narrative.
• Look at the length and complexity of sentences and paragraphs. Are they short and simple, or long and layered?

Reading in this way reveals the stylistic norms of your target journal. It also shows that there is not just one way to “sound academic.” Different authors develop distinct voices while still working within shared conventions. Your goal is to find a voice that feels authentic to you and at the same time meets the expectations of the community you are writing for.

3. Scientific Writing: Concise, Precise, and Replicable

Scientific articles—especially in laboratory-based disciplines, engineering, or quantitative social sciences—typically use a concise, no-nonsense style. The main goal is to describe methods and results so clearly that other researchers can replicate the work. Consider the following two sentences that might be used to describe who participated in the second trial of an experiment:

Informal version: “The groups swapped places for the second round.”

Scientific version: “In the second trial, participants were drawn from Groups 3 and 4, while members of Groups 1 and 2 served as observers.”

The first sentence would be perfectly acceptable in everyday conversation. It is short, and the phrase “swapped places” is easy to understand in a general way. The second sentence is longer and more formal, but it leaves no doubt about which groups did what. That extra precision is vital when readers need to know exactly how the study was conducted.

Scientific writing therefore tends to favour:

• Concrete nouns and verbs over vague or metaphorical ones.
• Clear statements of who did what, when, and under which conditions.
• Logical sequencing of information, often following an IMRaD pattern (Introduction, Methods, Results, and Discussion).
• Minimal use of rhetorical flourishes, humour, or highly figurative language.

This does not mean scientific prose has to be dull. It means that the primary creativity in scientific writing lies in how you frame your question, present your evidence, and connect your findings to larger debates—not in ornamental phrasing.

4. Writing in the Humanities: Nuance and Complexity

By contrast, academic writing in the humanities often allows more stylistic variety. Scholars may use more complex syntax, build more interpretive layers into their sentences, and occasionally exploit ambiguity as a deliberate part of their argument. However, this greater flexibility does not give licence for wordiness or obscurity. Space is limited in humanities journals just as it is in scientific ones, and editors expect arguments to be developed economically.

Consider a sentence that analyses a small detail in a historical or literary document:

Example: “The annotator’s hesitant but unmistakable sympathy with the author’s confession of boredom in church emerges in three tiny words squeezed into the left margin in ink so pale that it is barely visible: ‘Same for me.’”

This sentence is longer and more interpretive than a typical scientific sentence, but it still performs clear tasks. It identifies the agent (“the annotator”), the object of discussion (“the author’s confession”), the location (“left margin”), the specific data (“three tiny words”), and the conclusion (“sympathy”). The phrasing remains anchored in precise description. Humanities writing should use complexity to enrich meaning, not to obscure it.

5. Formal Tone: From Thought to Publishable Sentence

Regardless of discipline, journal articles must maintain a formal tone. This does not mean they must be stiff or impersonal, but it does mean avoiding slang, contractions, emojis, and highly casual phrasing. It may help to think in two stages: first, what you want to say; second, how to say it in publishable form.

Imagine the researcher’s internal commentary:

Draft thought: “I honestly couldn’t believe the change. Taking part completely transformed the observers. I had to laugh at how glued to the glass they were, searching for the same mistakes they’d just made.”

Now consider a formal version suitable for a journal article:

Formal version: “Participation in the trial produced a striking shift in the behaviour of the observers. Those who had just taken part became intensely engaged in monitoring the subsequent participants, paying particularly close attention to errors that mirrored their own. Several pressed their faces against the observation window in their eagerness to follow the task.”

The core observation is the same, but the wording has changed from conversational to professional. The formal version uses complete sentences, avoids contractions, and describes behaviour in a way that invites analysis rather than amusement.

6. Correctness: Grammar, Spelling, and Honesty

Academic writing must be correct in several senses. First, it must accurately report what was done, what was found, and how the author interprets those findings. This is an ethical requirement. Second, it must be grammatically and typographically correct. Although occasional minor errors are inevitable, a manuscript that contains frequent mistakes in grammar, spelling, or punctuation signals carelessness and may undermine reviewer confidence in the research itself.

Compare the following pair of passages. The first contains multiple issues:

Unpolished version: “The pattern of large dark notes and small light ones makes the imprssion that the annotator had strong hand, big writing and darker ink when he agreed with things he thought was OK, but then used weak hand, tiny script and pale ink to say nice things about stuff that the other monks probly wouldn’t like.”

Now consider a revised version:

Polished version: “Large, dark annotations appear at intervals along the margins, interspersed with much smaller, paler notes. Both sets clearly originate from the same hand, yet their distribution follows a consistent pattern. The annotator employs a bold script and heavy ink when endorsing ideas that would have been widely approved within the community, but shifts to a smaller script and lighter ink when recording favourable comments on practices that might have been viewed with suspicion by his fellow monks.”

The improved passage corrects spelling and grammar, replaces vague expressions such as “stuff” and “OK,” and structures the information into clear, logically connected sentences. It still describes the same phenomenon, but in language that is credible and suitable for publication.

7. Building Authoritative Structure with Headings

Authority in academic writing is not created only at the sentence level. It also depends on how the article is structured. Many journals in the sciences and social sciences expect some variation of the IMRaD model:

• Title
• Abstract
• Introduction or Background
• Literature Review (sometimes integrated into the introduction)
• Methods or Materials and Methods
• Results
• Discussion
• Conclusion (or integrated into the discussion)
• References
• Tables, Figures, and Supplementary Material

Journals in the humanities and some areas of the social sciences often allow more creativity in the choice of headings. Nevertheless, the underlying principle is the same: headings should mark major transitions in the argument and provide the reader with a clear roadmap. Subheadings within long sections can further guide the reader by signposting shifts in theme, method, or level of analysis.

8. Paragraph-Level Transitions: Guiding the Reader

A well-structured article is also built from well-structured paragraphs. Each paragraph should focus on a single main idea or step in the argument. The first sentence often functions as a link between what has just been discussed and what comes next, while the final sentence may prepare the ground for the following paragraph.

Here is a simple example of how this can work when explaining unexpected results:

“These results were not anticipated. There are three plausible explanations for the pattern we observed. The first concerns measurement error in the initial trial … The second explanation is conceptually related but focuses on … The third possibility conflicts with the previous two and suggests that … In the following sections, we examine each explanation in turn and consider its implications for future research.”

The paragraph not only introduces three interpretations but also indicates how the rest of the section will be organised. This sort of signalling makes it easier for readers to follow complex reasoning and to locate the information they need.

9. Sentence-Level Transitions and Cohesion

Within paragraphs, transitional words and phrases help connect individual sentences. Common transitions include “therefore,” “however,” “in contrast,” “for example,” and “as a result.” Used thoughtfully, they guide the reader through sequences of cause and effect, comparison, concession, and inference.

For instance:

“The first trial failed because the temperature rose too quickly. We therefore replaced the monitoring device before starting the second trial. However, the second trial also failed, revealing that the position of the sensor, rather than the device itself, was the underlying problem.”

Here, “therefore” introduces a logical response to the first failure, and “however” alerts the reader to a surprising outcome. Transitions need not be limited to stock words; repeating key terms, maintaining consistent terminology, and avoiding vague pronouns are equally important tools for cohesion.

10. Avoiding Vagueness and Ambiguity

Vague wording is a frequent source of confusion in academic writing. Pronouns such as “this,” “that,” or “it” can be particularly problematic when it is not obvious what they refer to. Consider the following pair of sentences:

“We were unsure whether the temperature monitor or the placement of the sensor was responsible for the failure of the first trial. This undermined the first two trials.”

Grammatically, “This” appears to refer to the uncertainty, not to the actual fault in the equipment. Yet it was the fault, not the uncertainty, that undermined the initial data. A more precise version would replace the pronoun with a specific noun phrase:

“We were unsure whether the temperature monitor or the placement of the sensor had caused the first trial to fail. This uncertainty led us to replace the monitor rather than reposition the sensor, and the resulting second failure confirmed that the sensor’s placement was in fact the main problem.”

By naming both the uncertainty and the actual fault, the revised version eliminates ambiguity and provides a clearer account of what happened.

11. Technical Terms, Abbreviations, and Foreign Words

Discipline-specific terminology is unavoidable in many research areas, and using the correct technical vocabulary can enhance precision. However, too much jargon can alienate readers or obscure meaning. A useful rule of thumb is to introduce specialised terms, abbreviations, or foreign phrases carefully, and to define them when they first appear.

For example:

“The poem survives in two early manuscripts: Northbridge Library MS 14 (hereafter NL14) and Eastgate College MS 27 (EC27). NL14 may be the source for the later copies discussed above, whereas the version in EC27 has no clear descendants, except possibly in a series of brief interlinear corrections in SH92.”

This passage introduces two abbreviations—NL14 and EC27—and uses them consistently afterwards. In more complex articles, an alphabetical list of abbreviations and key technical terms can help readers keep track of the terminology.

12. Lists, Parallelism, and Reader-Friendly Organisation

Lists are powerful tools for presenting information clearly, particularly when summarising reasons, steps, categories, or factors. However, lists must be well organised and internally consistent to be effective. Compare these two versions:

Poorly structured list:
“Reasons for changes in migration: 1) Not enough birds now; II) food sources changed; iii) weather in spring very unpredictable. We do not know which one matters most.”

Improved list:
“The pronounced changes observed in spring migration over the past three years may be linked to three interrelated factors:

1. Increasingly variable weather patterns along the migration routes.
2. Reduced availability of key food sources, particularly in early spring.
3. A decline in the number of older birds able to remember and retrace established routes.”

“Although the relative impact of these three factors remains uncertain, current evidence suggests that climatic variability is the primary driver and may also be contributing to the other two trends.”

The improved version uses consistent numbering, parallel grammar (“Increasingly…”, “Reduced…”, “A decline…”), and an introductory and closing sentence that frame the list within the overall argument.

13. Tables, Figures, and Internal References

Tables and figures can condense large amounts of data into forms that are easier to interpret. They are especially valuable when you need to show patterns, comparisons, or chronological sequences. However, poorly designed tables and figures can confuse readers rather than assist them.

Useful tables and figures share several characteristics:

• They are numbered consecutively in the order in which they are mentioned in the text (Table 1, Table 2, Figure 1, and so on).
• Each has a concise, descriptive title or caption.
• Any symbols, abbreviations, or unusual formatting are explained in notes or legends.
• The main text refers explicitly to them and explains what the reader should notice.

For example: “Handwritten copies of the poem are listed in Table 1, while early printed editions appear in Table 2. Figure 1 then presents all surviving copies in chronological order, illustrating the rapid expansion of circulation after 1620.”

Such cross-references tell readers where to look and why the visual information matters, rather than leaving them to interpret tables and figures in isolation.

14. Citation Practices and Reference Lists

No research article is complete without a carefully prepared list of sources. Proper citation does more than avoid plagiarism; it shows how your work builds on, extends, or challenges existing scholarship. Reference systems vary widely—numbered systems such as Vancouver, author–date systems such as APA or Harvard, and notes-and-bibliography systems such as Chicago are among the most common—but all require meticulous consistency.

In a numbered system, citations might appear like this:

“Similar patterns were observed in earlier studies of robin migration [1,2].”

The reference list would then present the full details in numerical order, matching those brackets. In an author–date system, the same idea might be cited as: “Similar patterns were observed in earlier studies of robin migration (Smith & Jones, 2007; Lee, 2010).” The references would then be arranged alphabetically by author.

Regardless of the system, full references usually include author names, year of publication, title of the work, publication venue (journal, book, thesis, etc.), and additional details such as volume, issue, page range, publisher, and DOI where relevant. Because each journal has its own rules for capitalisation, punctuation, italics, and order of elements, it is essential to follow the journal’s examples closely when preparing your reference list.

15. Bringing It All Together: From Draft to Submission

Developing a publishable academic style is an iterative process. Few authors produce a journal-ready article in a single draft. Instead, strong papers typically pass through multiple rounds of revision. Early drafts may focus on getting the structure and content in place; later drafts refine the language, tighten the argument, check transitions, and correct errors.

Before submitting, it can be helpful to ask yourself the following questions:

• Does the article follow the structural expectations of the target journal?
• Are headings and subheadings used to guide the reader logically through the argument?
• Do paragraphs have clear topics and effective transitions?
• Are sentences grammatically correct, concise, and free of unnecessary jargon?
• Is technical terminology defined and used consistently?
• Are tables, figures, and lists clearly labelled, well designed, and properly referenced in the text?
• Do citations and references conform exactly to the journal’s style?

Attending carefully to these aspects of writing does take time, but it is time well invested. Strong academic prose multiplies the impact of your research, making it easier for editors to accept your work, for reviewers to evaluate it fairly, and for other scholars to read, understand, and cite it. In short, good writing does not replace good research—but it is often what allows good research to reach the audience it deserves.