What distinguishes great scientists? The question has puzzled historians, psychologists, and sociologists. The larger issue - the origins of creative genius - has fascinated western thinkers well before Plato. Over the past decade, researchers have conducted empirical studies of great scientists, as well as acknowledged leaders in the arts and humanities. For the first time, we have tangible clues about what distinguishes the Nobel laureates from the average scientists.

Perhaps the most interesting work on great scientists comes from studies conducted by psychologist Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi at the Department of Psychology at the University of Chicago, who, from 1990 to 1995, interviewed 91 exceptional individuals in a variety of fields [1]. His subjects included Nobelists Joshua Lederberg, Linus Pauling, Ilya Prigogine, and Rosalyn Yalow, as well as Jonas Salk, Barry Commoner, Freeman Dyson, Stephen Jay Gould, George Klein, Ernst Mayr, E.O. Wilson, and others. Csikszentmihalyi sought to distinguish between personal creativity - in which an individual develops unusual and interesting new perspectives that aren't accepted in society - from creativity that makes lasting contributions. The latter type of creativity requires three elements:

(1) A symbolic domain of knowledge

(2) A person who has mastered that domain and explored basic new ideas or perceived new patterns within it

(3) Acceptance of those insights by the social gatekeepers of that domain

When Csikszentmihalyi asked his highly creative subjects how they account for their achievements, the most frequent answer was that they were lucky. Being in the right place at the right time (RPRT) is extremely important. However, some people are more aware than their peers are that they are standing in the center of the cyclone. Linus Pauling, for instance, was one of many who were inspired by the work of Neils Bohr and Max Planck and went on to win Nobel prizes for extending quantum theory to different domains. However, other scientists exposed to quantum theory failed to note its vast implications. Pauling mastered his domain at an early age and had an amazing capacity to generate new perspectives on it. When asked by an admirer how he came up with such great ideas, he replied that he simply had a lot of ideas and threw the bad ones out.

Pauling's presence to his students also illustrates the importance of RPRT. Nobelist William Lipscomb, who worked in Pauling's lab as a student, once told me that a few minutes with Pauling generated months of ideas and experiments. Lipscomb later trained Roald Hoffmann, who eventually won a Nobel Prize in chemistry. A broad demographic study by Stephan and Levin underscores that such RPRT is crucial for great scientific achievement [2]. Being trained at a place where science is rapidly evolving gives an exceptional knowledge advantage to future high achievers; equally important is the exposure to a new way of thinking, which can't be learned easily from reading published papers. RPRT is not purely chance, although much of it is out of one's control.

Actively searching for groups doing key research is essential when applying for postdocs or your first job, and the willingness to make short-term sacrifices to stay in the center of action can pay off greatly in your career. By paying attention to centers of pathbreaking learning, combined with a feverish passion for your work that drives you to master your field (hard work is not enough), RPRT may seem to find you. As the adage says: good luck comes to the prepared mind.

Good luck is also related to money. The state of the economy, which you can't control, has an important impact on creativity in science and any other field. A poor job market for scientists or a recession that leads to government cutbacks can diminish the growth of science throughout the nation or world. Stephan and Levin point out that worsening conditions for scientists in the 1970s led many of the brightest students to move into law or business rather than science, damaging the overall climate of scientific innovation in the United States [3].

In addition, when competition heats up for precious grant money, scientists tend to choose safer, more conservative projects rather than the riskier, more creative ones that are more likely to lead to breakthroughs. Competing harder for more conservative projects is, frankly, less fun, which lowers the motivation to do creative work. Pressure to publish larger numbers of mediocre papers in order to win grant money or tenure is another disincentive to do creative research. Finally, creativity requires a certain amount of freedom, which is difficult to cultivate when a person is competing feverishly simply to survive.

Early childhood factors certainly play a role in the lives of the most successful scientists, and some of those factors are tragic. For example, Simonton cites studies [4] showing that very high achieving individuals in all fields, including science, are more likely to have lost a parent during childhood. He cites a study by Roe showing that 25 percent of high achieving biologists had lost a parent by age 10, compared to 6 percent among the general population of college students at the time [5]. The authors suggest that similar circumstances - loss of a parent from alcoholism, abandonment, or divorce - can lead to the same reaction: a great drive for independence and a need for mastery to compensate for the loss. Simonton claims that this independence, in turn, disrupts the typical socialization process while growing up, which leads to an unconventional, creative way of thinking in adulthood.

Being the first born in the family also correlates relatively well with high achievement in science. In addition, a 1980 study showed that first-born scientists had higher citation rates on their papers than other scientists [6]. Of course, cultural enrichment in the home, especially voracious reading habits, and the influence of one or more very strong role models have been shown to help tremendously.

How quickly a scientist's career progresses in the early years is also known to be a predictor of great success. One study shows that 75 percent of the winners of the Nobel Prize in the physical sciences completed their acknowledged work by the age of 40 and virtually none did this after 55 [7]. With notable exceptions, scientists generally publish fewer articles, coauthor fewer papers, and have lower journal impact as they age. Studies also point to the common theme that older scientists actually stifle creativity in younger scientists. Max Planck believed this, offering that "a new scientific truth does not triumph by convincing its opponents and making them see the light, but rather because its opponents eventually die, and a new generation grows up that is familiar with it." [8]

In my experience while working with very high achievers in bioscience, two characteristics stand out: an immense capacity for play, and an unshakeable tenacity to pursue research problems that seem insoluble. Great science is indeed a passion. If you don't have that passion, you simply won't be among the great researchers of your generation (although you might be quite content with a solid, productive research career). One client described his lab as his playground. He simply couldn't wait to finish his administrative work in order to get involved with his large research team each afternoon. Similarly, physicist Richard Feynman wrote that he was burning out as a scientist when he decided, as a survival tactic, to "play with physics." [9] He claimed that while playing with his dinner plate one night, he made observations that led to the diagrams and further work that earned him the Nobel Prize.

Based on his studies of creative people, Csikszentmihalyi believes that creative work must be fun, and people who can and want to make their work deeply enjoyable are the most creative in any field. Creativity is really a talent for enjoyment achieved by cultivating one's own capacity to attend to projects for sustained periods of time. In the deepest states of creativity, a type of merging between the creator and work is experienced, sometimes involving a sense of timelessness and ease. The work simply flows. Great scientists and other creators are also masters of attention, with the capacity to allocate attention to subjects simply for their own sake.

Not everyone can be a Nobelist, but we can all be more creative in our work and in their lives and, thus, enjoy life a bit more.