GO BIG OR GO HOME

19 December 2019

By Nasa Zata

There’s a popular idea in academia that if you’re going to publish, it should be in a top-tier journal. Go big or go home, they say. That might work if you’re an established scholar with funding, time, support, and experience. But for many of us, managing full teaching loads, administrative work, and limited research resources, it’s an unrealistic expectation.

So if the only two options are to go big or go home, I’ll choose something different: I’ll go steady. I’ll keep researching, writing, and contributing, at a pace and scale that makes sense for where I am now.

For many early-career researchers, publishing in a third- or fourth-tier journal isn’t a consolation prize, it’s a strategic and perfectly valid choice. Research takes time, and so does developing writing skills, methodological depth and networks that top journals often require. Add the pressure to publish at least once a year, and it makes sense to prioritize progress over prestige.

But even the idea of tiers is complicated. What makes a journal first-, second-, or third-tier? Some point to the impact factor. Others refer to reach and scope. Still others rely on field-specific norms and reputation. And let’s not forget the role of disciplinary gatekeepers and unspoken hierarchies. Older scholars may value long-standing journals regardless of impact factor, while younger ones often chase metrics. Either way, the quality of a paper doesn’t always align with where it’s published.

Sometimes a strong article ends up in a journal with lower visibility simply because the author chose that venue, whether for alignment, accessibility, or community. Language barriers also matter. Excellent work can be overlooked due to linguistic bias, especially when English isn’t the author’s first (or even second) language. That’s a systemic issue, not a personal flaw.

None of this is about dismissing top-tier journals or the people who publish in them. It’s about widening the conversation. If the goal of academia is to build knowledge and benefit society, then maybe we should shift the focus from wheresomething is published to what it actually says. Instead of “go big or go home,” how about: just go. Just do the work. Just contribute.

Of course, incentives play a role. More citations, better rankings, increased funding are real pressures. But there’s a difference between chasing visibility and building meaningful research. In an ideal world, research would lead and recognition would follow. In reality, we often reverse that order out of necessity.

True collaboration could help, but it’s not always what it seems. In many cases, collaboration means one person writes while others review, and still get co-authorship. That’s not bad faith; it’s a symptom of a system stretched thin. Without sabbaticals, research hubs, or dedicated time, most of us are simply trying to keep up.

So for now, I’m focusing on what’s doable. I’m writing with care. I’m publishing where my work fits. I value any thoughtful feedback, no matter the journal’s ranking. Every round of review makes my work stronger. Every submission sharpens my thinking.

Yes, I’ve received comments about my English, about repetition, clarity, structure. And yes, those comments came from reviewers at modest journals. But that doesn’t diminish the value of the process. Improving takes time. Language is a tool, and I’m learning to use it better every day, with support from editors, mentors, and peers.

So no, I’m not opting out of ambition. I’m just choosing to define it on my own terms. One day, I may publish in a top-tier journal. But for now, I’m building something real with what I have, where I am, alongside people who care about making meaningful contributions, not just chasing prestige.

If you’re a new researcher navigating the same challenges, you’re not alone. Keep going. Keep writing. Start where you are. That’s more than enough.