In this edition of Journalist Spotlight, we delve into the experiences and insights of Anjna Singh, Science and Environment Sub-Editor at Pelican Magazine, University of Western Australia. Through this conversation, Anjna shares her unique perspective on navigating student journalism from a scientific background, the collaborative dynamics that define Pelican’s editorial process, and the ways in which independent student media continues to challenge and enrich Australia’s media landscape. Whether you’re a communications professional, aspiring writer, or simply curious about the evolving role of young journalists, this interview offers a candid look at the challenges and creative opportunities shaping student-led publications today.
As Science and Environment Sub-Editor, I spend a lot of my time bringing stories to life — whether that’s working with contributors, writing my own pieces, or making sure everything we publish reflects the voice of the section. My role is a mix of creativity and detail: I put out callouts for submissions, fact-check every article, and work closely with writers to refine their work. Once a piece is finalised, I’ll either source free-use images or collaborate with other sub-editors — often in cartoons, literature, or visual arts — to see if there’s original media that could enhance it. That collaboration across sections keeps the magazine feeling dynamic and connected.
When I’m writing, I aim to blend science and environmental topics in ways that are both accurate and engaging. My academic background is in medical sciences and medicine in the UK, and now biomedical science and research in Australia. I’m deeply rooted in the scientific world, but I’ve always had a strong pull towards storytelling. — I grew up collecting magazines and was a long-time National Geographic subscriber, — so joining Pelican felt like a natural way to bring those two passions together.
Coming from outside the humanities gives me a slightly different lens on journalism. In science, everything starts with evidence. — You follow the data, you check your sources meticulously, and you present findings with precision. That instinct is a real strength in fact-checking and in making sure our articles are accurate. But it also meant I had to unlearn some habits. Academic writing is often dense and formal, and journalism needs to be readable, relatable, and sometimes even playful. Finding that balance has been one of the most valuable parts of the role. I’ve learned to keep the rigour of science but package it in a way that invites readers in, whether they have a scientific background or not. I think that mix — accuracy with accessibility — is what makes the section stand out.
Pelican is the University of Western Australia’s student magazine, and it’s been in print since 1930, — which means it’s been part of campus life for generations. It’s entirely student-run, and every year’s team puts its own stamp on what the magazine is. We publish six themed print editions annually, and the content is a real mix: sharp political analysis, cultural criticism, creative writing, satire, visual art, and plenty of the wonderfully odd pieces that only student media can get away with. The result is a magazine that’s bold, irreverent, and willing to take risks — whether we’re unpacking national issues or poking fun at something happening on campus.
The team is made up of around 25 editors, with two head editors overseeing the whole operation. Each section — from music, politics, and literature to science & environment, entertainment, and visual art — has its own sub-editors. We all bring our own interests, tone, and style, so each section ends up feeling distinct, but they all come together under the Pelican banner.
Some sections are covered by a single person, others by two or three working together, depending on the workload and how closely the topics overlap. That cross-pollination is part of the fun. ou get to see how different editorial brains approach the same topic from totally different angles.
Even though each section has the freedom to shape its own content, there’s a lot of crossover. A political story might inspire an art piece, or a literary feature might lead to an environmental follow-up. That back-and-forth keeps Pelican feeling like more than just a collection of separate columns. It’s a mix of independence and collaboration, because at the end of the day it still reads as one magazine.
This year, Pelican is participating in the conference through me and the decision to attend was very intentional. We’d never been part of it before, partly because Perth is so geographically removed from the rest of the student media network. That isolation means travel is expensive, time-consuming, and hard to coordinate alongside studies and other work. But when I looked at the program, saw the calibre of speakers, and realised it was a rare chance to connect with editors from across the country, I knew it was worth making happen.
Financially, it meant planning well in advance, weighing up travel and accommodation options, and making the trip as efficient as possible without losing out on opportunities to connect. Logistically, I had to block out several days, rearrange work shifts, and line up my academic commitments so that I wouldn’t be behind when I returned.
Once that was in place, it was about making the most of the opportunity. I’m not just attending, I’ll also be moderating one of the panelists, which adds another layer of preparation and involvement. I see it as a chance to not only learn from the conference but actively contribute to it. And when I get back, I’ll be writing a feature on the experience for our next edition, both to share what I learned and to show future Pelican editors that it’s possible to take part, even with the challenges of distance and resources. My hope is that it becomes the start of a tradition rather than a one-off.
Our media cycle is a mix of routine and unpredictability. Each edition starts with a theme, and from there I’m thinking about what fits naturally within science and environment — whether it’s a new piece of research, a local environmental issue, or something a bit left-field that still sparks curiosity. Some stories are planned weeks ahead, especially if they’re tied to known events or publication schedules. Others appear out of nowhere: a breaking policy announcement, a freshly published scientific paper, or a contributor’s pitch that opens up an unexpected angle.
Finding leads is part research, part instinct. I read widely — academic journals, government reports, NGO publications — and I keep in touch with people in local science and environmental circles. Sometimes a story starts with a formal press release. Other times it comes from a lot of late-night Googling until something random sparks an idea. I’ve learned to follow that curiosity because those “this could be interesting” moments often turn into the most engaging pieces. Social media also helps, not for endless scrolling, but for keeping tabs on scientists, activists, and journalists who are often discussing issues before they hit the mainstream.
My work as an editor and writer has been unexpectedly valuable for my future in science, especially in neuroscience and psychiatry, the fields I’m drawn to. In research, you’re often surrounded by complex data and specialist language, but your work has limited impact if you can’t communicate it clearly. Editing forces me to strip an idea down to its core, rebuild it in plain language, and make it engaging for people who may have no prior background in the topic. That’s a skill directly transferable to academia, where researchers are increasingly expected to share their findings with policymakers, funding bodies, and the public.
It also honed my ability to adapt tone and style depending on the audience. press release, for instance, reads very differently from a peer-reviewed paper or a long-form feature. And it’s taught me how to think visually, how to pair words with imagery in ways that deepen understanding. Most importantly, it’s trained me to look for the human element in every story. In science, that means not just talking about the data, but about the lives and decisions that data will ultimately influence. That shift in perspective will be just as valuable in the lab or clinic as it is on the page.
Yes. Even if my primary career ends up in clinical research, I can’t see myself stepping away from writing. For me, journalism is a way to open up science and make it part of public life rather than something locked away in academic journals. I think the two careers can inform each other: the discipline and precision of research can strengthen my reporting, while the curiosity and communication skills from journalism can make me a better scientist.
Australian media still produces some outstanding work, particularly in investigative reporting, but there are structural challenges. Concentrated media ownership means a smaller range of perspectives in mainstream outlets, and shrinking newsroom resources make it harder to cover stories that don’t fit neatly into the news cycle. That’s where independent and student media step in. We have the freedom to experiment with format, take creative risks, and give space to issues that might be overlooked elsewhere.
Student journalism, in particular, has a unique energy. We’re not bound by the same commercial pressures, so we can be playful, critical, and deeply local all at once. At Pelican, that might mean covering something as big as climate policy or as small as a quirk on campus. Both matter, because both reflect the world our readers are living in. Independent outlets might not have the same resources as the major players, but that constraint pushes us to be inventive. It also means we’re in a position to challenge the culture of establishment media, rather than simply reacting to it.
At Pelican, we don’t really operate on a pitched-versus-commissioned basis. Most of our content comes through open callouts. We announce the theme for the next edition, and contributors send in whatever they feel inspired to write. As sub-editors, we also create our own features each edition, so the section ends up being a blend of in-house work and whatever contributors bring to the table.
When science was a standalone section, it was harder to fill the pages, but since merging with the environment section we’ve had more people get involved and a much wider spread of topics — everything from environmental policy analysis to fun, slightly offbeat explainers about niche science. That mix keeps the section unpredictable in the best way.
Because Pelican is so flexible, there’s no single “right” way to pitch. We’re open to hearing from people with fully formed articles, half-formed ideas, or even just a spark they’re not sure how to develop yet. Sometimes the most memorable pieces have come from conversations that started with, “I’m not sure if this fits, but…” If an idea excites you, there’s a good chance it will excite us too, whether it’s deeply researched or just wonderfully strange.