Imagine witnessing history unfold before your eyes—a Nobel Prize-winning discovery that changes our understanding of the universe. That’s exactly what happened to Kim Burtnyk, a technical writer and editor at the LIGO Laboratory, when gravitational waves were detected in 2015. But here’s where it gets fascinating: her first thought wasn’t just awe; it was, ‘How do we explain this to the world?’ This question has defined Kim’s career, blending her passion for science with a gift for communication.
Kim’s journey began as an Astrophysics student at the University of Toronto, where she minored in English. As the first in her family to pursue a university degree, she often found herself translating complex scientific concepts into relatable stories for her loved ones. And this is the part most people miss: her science communication training started organically, driven by her own curiosity and desire to share knowledge. A pivotal moment came when her physics teaching assistant encouraged her to write for The Varsity, the university’s student newspaper. ‘It was an epiphany,’ she recalls. ‘I knew this was what I wanted to do forever.’
After years of writing for publications like Sky & Telescope, Kim pursued a master’s in science communication at the Australian National University (ANU). For her thesis, she studied visitor experiences at two observatories: Mount Stromlo and Siding Spring. Here’s the controversial part: she discovered that people remember the feelings of their visit—the drive up the mountain, the sight of the dome—far more than the scientific facts. ‘It’s the affective impact,’ she explains. ‘We remember experiences, not just information.’
Post-graduation, Kim worked at the California Science Center, then pivoted to consulting, eventually editing critical documents for the Giant Magellan Telescope. But here’s where it gets controversial: consolidating the work of 30 contributors into a single voice was daunting, yet she thrived in seeing the ‘big picture’—something engineers often miss. This led her to LIGO, where she’s spent 12 years crafting reports, proposals, and website content that secure funding and educate the public.
When asked for advice on science communication, Kim emphasizes empathy. ‘Put yourself in the learner’s shoes,’ she suggests. ‘It’s easier to spot jargon when you remember what it’s like to not know.’ She also warns against cluttered slides—‘If people are reading, they’re not listening’—and advocates for honesty. ‘Admit when something is incomprehensible,’ she says. ‘It builds trust.’
Finally, Kim stresses the importance of collaboration. ‘Being edited is scary, but it makes your work better,’ she admits. As both a writer and editor, she approaches her craft with empathy, understanding the challenges of both roles.
Kim’s story challenges the notion that science communication is just outreach. It’s about curiosity, connection, and making the incomprehensible relatable. But here’s the question: In a world drowning in information, how do we ensure science is not just heard, but felt? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s spark a conversation!
