Abstract
This is the first editorial commentary in a three-part series that addresses introductions, implications, and interestingness. The first, focusing on the introduction design, is about what the beginning of a paper should look like. The second, focusing on practice implications, is about what the end of a paper should look like. The third discusses how to develop and fit attention-grabbing ideas into the academic conversation in the literature. We hope this editorial series provides inspiration and ideas about publishing papers that people want to engage with.
The empirical management study characteristically consists of the introduction, literature review, hypotheses, methods, results, discussion, and conclusion sections. The introduction is perhaps the most discussed and debated section. Not surprisingly, an abundance of guidance exists to help researchers develop the introduction.
Quite possibly, one of the more consistent suggestions is that the introduction should be a clear and compelling microcosm of the study. The other is that the introduction is a high-stakes challenge for researchers because it can play a significant role in the journal review process, and therefore a strategic and responsive approach is critical to increasing the odds of a favorable assessment. Abundant guidance is available in the literature on meeting these goals (see, e.g., Ahlstrom & Wang, 2020; Grant & Pollock, 2011; Lange & Pfarrer, 2017; Ragins, 2012). We agree with its broad thrust and essential features, which we have found helpful in our research and interactions with reviewers and editors.
However, in our research, review process, and interactions with colleagues, we have observed that the guidance gives short shrift to research utility. Not many scholars start research projects with a thorough introduction in mind. Instead, they most often begin with the conviction that they can offer some utility to a scientific and practice community, contributing to societal well-being and addressing society’s challenges. 1 In this sense, the research utility supersedes the introduction. It is, after all, why one decides to conduct, write, and publish the study. The link between the introduction and research utility can also be an important indicator of whether the reader will appreciate and engage with the study (Corley & Gioia, 2011; Grant & Pollock, 2011).
In this editorial, we contend that the single most critical function of the introduction is to present how a study creates, combines, or recombines knowledge in a way that addresses what a target audience hopes to accomplish or improve in a specific circumstance. When authors present the utility insightfully with a passion for its true content, the resultant introduction will be compelling, with a sense of purpose. When the reader, in turn, sees that utility, the study’s contribution will be more straightforward and effective. Conversely, when the introduction cogitates about a study’s utility, it is easier for the reader to discount its contribution and value. This is not to say that the researcher, at times (such as when confronted by a persistent editor/reviewer during the review process), might not be capable of inventing a utility and giving it plausibility. But such idiosyncratic inventions will likely have a short shelf life in the marketplace for ideas postpublication—not unlike when sandcastles meet rogue waves. Instead, the introduction is likely to be impactful when it presents a utility to help find or even create an audience.
Framework
We offer the framework in Figure 1 for understanding the introduction. Its core is the dynamic and iterative process between a research article’s sections and the introduction design in terms of its utility and presentability. We broadly conceive that utility as to how a study creates, combines, or recombines knowledge in a way that addresses what a target audience hopes to accomplish or improve in a specific circumstance. Because the jobs-to-be-done theory of new product development similarly conceives the user-focused utility as the valuable progress that someone is trying to make in a given circumstance (Christensen, Hall, Dillon, & Duncan, 2016), we use the notion of jobs to be done as a metaphor for introductions that have a utility for an audience as the core design feature.

A Framework for Understanding the Introduction as Jobs to Be Done
As Figure 1 shows, a study’s utility is derived and inseparable from the research activities that inform an article’s different sections and, thus, its introduction. In turn, how to present that utility raises a design challenge for researchers. By “a design challenge,” we mean the deliberate process of developing and shaping the introduction’s utility and presentability. The challenge mainly originates from three factors. First, a study’s utility and presentability are often open-ended, taking various forms and manifestations. During the initial stages, we often liken a study’s utility to raw clay from underground deposits. That is, it is somewhat loose and disorganized before it evolves into a tidy package of ideas. Even during the latter stages, researchers can struggle with identifying the more compelling utility dimension to anchor the introduction—for example, they may not be able to problematize it sufficiently (Ragins, 2012).
The second complicating factor is the varying and interconnected nature of research activities and available evidence informing a study’s utility. This correlates with the fact that research utility is ultimately derived from logical arguments and implications, grounded in a systematic process (such as using a theoretical framework) to develop, synthesize, apply, and evaluate information and data, for or against an idea. The third challenge is the multiple-audience problem; that is, most studies in the management field tend to be relevant to more than one audience. Less effort is often required when the introduction’s utility is so specific that the primary audience is implied. Designing the introduction becomes more challenging when the study’s utility cannot be targeted and presented to a specific audience.
As a result, the compelling dimension of utility to anchor the introduction for a specific audience often emerges over time. Not surprisingly, the envisioned utility in the initial drafts tends to be either a temporary destination or a false start altogether. Even for experienced researchers, the initial drafts can require a range of substantial revisions and refinements. Sometimes, introductions need a complete makeover during the friendly review or journal review process—when, for example, a reader identifies a misfit between what the introduction “promises” and what the study does. A classic case is a mismatch between a study’s claim for new utility and its lack of perceived or real credibility, such as incompatible theory and testing or theory and reality. Neither is a successful outcome guaranteed. For example, the so-called gap-driven studies often encounter difficulties in the review process because even the experienced researchers find it challenging to bootstrap their way out of a weak utility basis. So, the process of designing the introduction for such studies then becomes a prolonged search for a reasonable kernel of utility to anchor the introduction. For more interesting papers, the challenge is a different one: The utility basis is substantial, but it demands more significant effort to shape and present because it lies at the border between the known and unknown.
Content and Structure
We suggest six building blocks for the introduction’s content and structure to help with the deliberate, iterative, and evaluative process of designing the introduction. By content for each building block, we broadly refer to what some in genre analysis call “moves and steps.” In turn, when each building block follows a deliberate sequence, such as the one outlined here, they mold the introduction’s structure. One way of remembering the proposed design’s logic is to view building blocks in terms of the basic formula for drama (Lamott, 1995): setup (the first two building blocks), buildup (the third and fourth), and payoff (the last two). We supplement our discussion with three summary columns in Table 1 and illustrate the proposed design’s totality through four examples in Online Appendix A.
A Summary of Building Blocks for the Introduction as Jobs to Be Done
Block 1: Identifying the Target Audience
Potential readers of an introduction in management studies could be researchers, managers, practice communities, and the like. When the audience is an academic community, the introduction may signal its targeted audience in several ways. For example, it could invoke a general stream/topic of research, paradigmatic theory, theoretical framework, or foundational article. Specialized keywords may also be sufficient to communicate the target audience. The introduction may also emit signals about its intended audience with a few “name-dropping” sentences. Conversely, the target audience might be broadly implied rather than explicitly stated. If authors are unsure about their target audience, a possible strategy is to consider the issue via the study’s dependent variable. Once a target audience is identified, grabbing its attention can occur using a range of “hooks” (Grant & Pollock, 2011)—such as a fascinating fact and trend, a compelling reformulation of current understanding, an analogy, or even an anecdote. What matters for this building block also is that it puts a human face on the introduction (Pollock & Bono, 2013)—through thought, intellect, feelings, or aesthetics (Ragins, 2012).
Block 2: Summarizing the Relevant Progress/Challenges
In this step, we use the terms of the progress and challenges to describe what is and needs to be known in the knowledge domain. This demands a rich understanding of relevant theories, evidence, and—at times—domain knowledge. Researchers have several tools at their disposal to build the block. For example, meta-analytical evidence can be used to offer evidence-based insight, especially relative to alternative explanations. The researcher can also use insights from available integrative reviews to discuss critical conclusions emerging from prior studies. If no review exists, the researcher can undertake a scoping review to synthesize insights from prior studies. Ultimately, this building block’s goal is to help establish a shared context (Williams & Bizup, 2017), which offers a mutual understanding between the researcher and the target audience. The opportunity (and challenge) is to establish the context in such a way as to start channeling the audience’s attention to specific gains and pains in the next building block.
Block 3: Specifying the Gain/Pain to Be Addressed
This often serves as the study’s problem or friction that requires a resolution and development. This building block requires more than merely noting a problem; it must be developed and explained. The challenge is to persuade the audience that the associated gain or pain is genuine and significant. The specificity and significance of the select gain and pain are ultimately what tickles the audience’s attention. If the researcher successfully makes the case, this building block will turn the introduction into something important for the target audience to either progress (gain) or solve (pain). In either formulation, it may be necessary to show the consequence and cost of the status quo—“to convince readers that they should take your problem seriously, you must state the cost they will pay if it is not resolved or the benefits they gain if it is” (Booth, Colomb, Williams, Bizup, & Fitzgerald, 2016: 239-240). Moreover, the choice between what to stress—that is, a benefit versus a cost—is an interesting one to consider. Booth et al. (2016: 237) write that “some research indicates that readers are more motivated by a real cost than by a potential benefit. Our suggestion: state costs or consequences when presenting your problems; state benefits to intensify your solution.” We agree and suggest that the researcher keep this insight in mind when considering the next three building blocks as well.
Block 4: The Proposed Solution
After clarifying a specific gain or pain, the introduction needs to offer a compelling solution and benefit—either a gain creator or a pain reliever for the audience. Thus, this building block needs to explain why the audience should care about reading the introduction and—for that matter—the entire study. In many ways, the block lies at the heart of a paper’s framing and needs to explain how the paper goes far toward resolving the problem mentioned. Although there might be several ways of framing the introduction, it tends to be in the form of either creating a benefit, relieving a pain, or both. For example, offering an interesting reformulation of a well-understood phenomenon, specifying overlooked constructs, and developing theory for a poorly understood or emergent phenomenon are some classic benefit creators. Conversely, resolving inconsistent theoretical predictions is a common way of relieving an academic community’s conceptual pain. Thus, although a topic may simultaneously be improved in several ways, the focus is often on one or two specific pain relievers or gain creators.
Block 5: Demonstrating the Proposed Solution’s Credibility
To that end, the introduction needs to include proximal credibility statements or distal, future-oriented credibility qualifications. These may be demonstrated in several ways by invoking theoretical frameworks, hypotheses, research design, data, empirical context, and results. For example, the authors may briefly introduce the study’s design and methodological strengths to communicate proximal credibility and practical significance as a distal credibility cue. That said, this building block’s scale and scope are closely tied to the study type (deductive vs. inductive) and the novelty of the proposed solution and its ability to interest an audience. It also depends on the nature of the study’s empirical advance. The stronger the advance is, the stronger this building block will be.
Block 6: Implications for the Target Audience and Focal Utility
The relevant question is, How will the future look for the target audience, given the utility offered in the study through the proposed solution? While such implications could be unique across studies, we suggest that the authors primarily focus on the implications vis-à-vis the study’s specific results and the specific gain/pain stated in the third building block. The study’s broader claims and implications, which often pertain to the first and second building blocks, may be left to the discussion section. For example, the study’s implications for future research are often better outlined in the discussion section. At times, however, it might be possible to state a study’s practice implications.
Contingencies
For a field as broad as management, the target audience and utility will differ in numerous ways, thus the need for enacting different “dramas.” The researcher may therefore need to develop and sequence building blocks differently to accommodate such differences. Other combinations and sequencing of these building blocks might be necessary and effective for particular audiences and utility types. For example, we suggest a stronger emphasis on the nature of contribution via the second, third, and fourth building blocks for academic audiences. For nonacademic audiences, we anticipate a stronger focus on the study’s solution, addressed in the third, fourth, and fifth building blocks. When the audience is apparent or specialized, it is possible to jump to the specific gains or pains addressed in the fourth building block. It might also be possible to develop the first three building blocks in a single paragraph if the gain or pain addressed is straightforward.
A study’s type constitutes another salient contingency. All of the six building blocks are likely relevant to empirical deductive studies. We anticipate that the more novel a study’s contribution (the proposed solution in the fourth building block), the more likely its introduction might need to draw on all six building blocks’ elements to persuade the reader. Conceptual, inductive, and abductive studies may exhibit different patterns in developing and sequencing each building block. For example, authors of conceptually oriented papers might prefer more details around the fourth and six building blocks rather than the fifth one—the proposed solution’s credibility. In inductive studies, we would anticipate a tighter coupling of the solution and credibility blocks. In abductive studies, there will likely be less emphasis on the second block and more on the coupling of the target audience, phenomenon, and context. We would also expect that the more abductive a study, the stronger the focus on the credibility block, perhaps through state-of-the-art methods appropriate to the phenomenon and research question.
Another important contingency is the journal review process, which could evoke a range of interesting issues. For example, a reviewer may find a paper’s utility compelling but not necessarily for herself or himself. We expect that many reviewers will likely positively appraise such studies. Conversely, many reviewers will likely assess contributions less favorably when the utility does not have broad appeal for a target audience and research stream. Among nonacademic readers, compelling articulation of a solution to a genuine problem should yield a positive assessment.
Process
Much like how a well-designed movie trailer might engender excitement about a film, an introduction following our suggested structure and content may stimulate the audience’s interest to continue reading the study. In the process of writing the introduction, six fundamental principles may be beneficial and perhaps essential.
A. Step Into Your Audience’s Shoes
Quite possibly, the root cause of an ineffective introduction is a failure of the underlying research to identify a significant and genuine point of gain or pain for a real audience. As Booth et al. (2016: 21) put it, “The old advice ‘to consider your audience’ means that you must report your research in a way that motivates your readers to play the role you have imagined for them.” During the journal review process, that audience is often two or three reviewers and one action editor. So, the researcher will need to get over that hurdle first.
B. Avoid the Curse of Knowing Too Much
To Pinker (2015: 61), the curse of knowledge is the single best explanation of . . . why good people write bad prose. It simply doesn’t occur to the writer that her readers don’t know what she knows. . . . And so she doesn’t bother to explain the jargon, or spell out the logic, or supply the necessary detail.
As a generic rule, the researcher should assume that the reader is not uniformly knowledgeable but instead spreading across a bell curve of knowledgeability and capability. If the offered solution is radical, the knowledge gap is likely considerable. Thus, assuming a busy, inexpert, and skeptical reader is likely safer for most introductions—you need to think of your reader as someone who does not know your study focus and yourself as someone who will give them reason to want to know it through the introduction (Booth et al., 2016).
C. Experiment With Cohesion
Thought experiments in the process are necessary to ensure the cohesion of style, pace, and motion. The cohesion of these elements does not immediately follow from the right content. Instead, authors will likely need to experiment and play freely with words, sentences, and paragraphs. If you are like us, you will probably find yourself thinking throughout the process, “Did I write this?” or “What happens if I were to move this sentence from there to here?” At times, you may even be led to abandon entire sections, thinking, “Oops! These sentences stink!” Each building block in the process can help to achieve that cohesion. Cohesion can also be strengthened by some principles for order in writing (Williams & Bizup, 2017). These include chronological (from earlier to later), coordinate (ordering the building blocks based on their complementarity), and logical (ordering by generalization, premises, or conclusions). Ultimately, the introduction is more effective when it communicates just enough content—concise but not terse (Williams & Bizup, 2017)—with appropriate motion and pacing (Pollock & Bono, 2013).
D. Protect Coherence
An effective introduction requires more than simply aligning the style, motion, and pacing. These factors must also support each other and add up to a unified whole. Without coherence, the introduction risks appearing more like a background or theoretical development section. One benefit of the structure and sequence outlined in the earlier section is to help improve coherence. Each building block contributes to it by enabling chunking and sequential positioning. However, the building blocks alone are not sufficient, as the researcher must interweave them carefully. A common cause of incoherence is the irresistible lure that entices researchers to communicate how much they know about the topic. In our experience, this tendency mainly manifests itself in somewhat inflated second, third, and final building blocks. Resisting this dubious knowledge-creep impulse—the knowledge curse’s evil cousin—can improve coherence. Working from outlines and targeted revisions of draft introductions are two other practical suggestions for achieving coherence. Coherence also benefits from some temporal and even spatial spacing.
E. Revise With the Door Open
Having others, especially a few target audience members, go over the introduction can provide essential insights into its completeness and clarity. In his memoir on the craft of writing, Stephen King (2010: 57) suggests to write with the door closed, rewrite with the door open. Your stuff starts out being just for you, in other words, but then it goes out. Once you know what the story is and get it right—as right as you can, anyway—it belongs to anyone who wants to read it. Or criticize it.
Willfully subjecting oneself to such a critical evaluation can be emotional and raw when it touches a heartfelt idea or cherished thoughts. Nonetheless, we cannot think of a better way to improve the introduction’s design than seeking feedback from others. But implementing this advice in practice presents three complicating challenges.
First, the writer must decide whether to seek feedback on the introduction alone or the entire study. The former is undoubtedly simpler; however, sharing the whole study will better align the introduction with the remainder (Figure 1). A reviewer’s comments on the other aspects of the study could cause or inspire revisions to the introduction and vice versa. The downside is that fewer individuals might be willing to review the entire study, and the breadth of revisions will likely be an exponential function of the reviewer pool.
The next complication is determining when the draft is ready. Unfortunately, we do not have a best-practice standard for when to “open the door.” The following passage from Hemingway illustrates one piece of relevant advice: When you are excited about something is when the first draft is done. But no one can see it until you have gone over it again and again until you have communicated the emotion, the sights, and the sounds to the reader, and by the time you have completed this the words, sometimes, will not make sense to you as you read them, so many times have you re-read them. (Phillips, 1984: 139)
This is a good reminder for us all to avoid approaching friendly reviewers with the so-called half-baked ideas.
The final challenge is to locate the individuals who are willing to give feedback and decide whose is most relevant. Although it would be nice to get such feedback from target audience members, the opening-up process could yield insights even with colleagues, family members, or researchers in a different discipline. As one of our friendly reviewers stated, the authors “need to ask the reviewer to highlight spots of the manuscript that sung and sunk.”
F. Complete the Unfinishable
The time and effort you spend revising the introduction based on the external feedback is quite possibly the most critical thing you can do to bring the entire writing process to closure confidently. However, the feedback seeking and associated revisions can also be daunting. If not managed carefully, it can expose the researcher to episodes of self-criticism, self-doubt, and even giving up. How would you feel, and what would you do, if you were to receive six distinct ways of sequencing the introduction from six friendly reviewers? How much and what type of feedback should you consider in revising the introduction?
We do not have easy answers to these questions, but they often surface during the process. What we can do is offer a few high-level observations. If all or most of your reviewers suggest that the introduction is not adequate, there is a good likelihood that they are right. It is time to consider a different draft. But if you receive a mix of favorable and unfavorable assessments, do not be annoyed even when they appear to be off, trivial, or contradictory. Considering them will take additional time and effort, but the chances are good that the introduction will improve as a result. After all, the pearl begins with an irritant!
Knowing when to get the job done can be as challenging as knowing where to start the job. It seems to us that all introductions are imperfect and unfinishable but perfectible and completable. So, the overall objective in the revision process may be to complete a more perfected draft rather than a prolonged process of perfection. In this regard, we are reminded of a memorable phrase from Lamott (1995: 87): “Of course, there will always be more you could do, but you have to remind yourself that perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor.” She then invokes the image of putting an octopus to bed to describe the revision process. What an apt image!
Conclusion
Getting our research published in the field journals remains an ongoing challenge with no single, best solution. But we have also come to realize that the odds of a paper getting noticed might be even longer postpublication. The reality is that many, if not all, of us struggle with fear, insecurity, and anxiety about how our writing will be received. We readily acknowledge our struggles with developing introductions that move others.
This editorial discusses how to design the introduction to tell a credible and compelling story of a specific utility for an audience in an integrated way. Some readers may consider the proposed design as too instrumental, a cookie-cutter template, or boilerplate thinking. That is a reasonable concern, especially when authors are interested in communicating their worldviews, creative explorations, and perspectives. No doubt, an introduction’s idiosyncratic and individualized features, such as its style, can be a real source of strength and advantage. The corollary to this is that the proposed design may not be effective among editors and reviewers where different conventions and structures for the introduction are valued.
Moreover, good introductions are as much a product of deep commitment and engagement with a body of research as they are of the writer’s imagination and creativity. Thus, leveraging our ideas here will require more than an understanding of the building blocks outlined and the attendant process principles. Indeed, we offered a few contingencies that can frustrate researchers when adhering too strictly to the proposed building blocks. These building blocks and principles are meant as guideposts, not templates to be followed mechanically. We see our effort here as one way of contemplating and marshaling ideas to design an introduction, not as a “silver bullet.” Moreover, starting from the template does not preclude the possibility of it fading out of visibility after a few iterations as the introduction takes a more concrete shape. The template helps by providing guidance, structure, and content but does not dominate the process.
As editors, we often receive questions about developing the introduction from colleagues who are new to the field or at the early stage of their careers. Those colleagues might find value in our discussion on the content and structure of designing the introduction. With more exercises, they may overcome anxiety in designing the introduction. To stimulate the reader to reflect on and practice the proposed introduction design, we offer some exercises for each building block level and entire introduction level, depending on participants’ needs and experience. We have summarized the exercises in Panels A and B in Online Appendix B. They might also be used in group settings—such as PhD seminars and workshops.
Notably, the proposed design encourages researchers to identify the target audience’s gain or pain triggers before launching a project. In our judgment, no amount of “fine-tuning” may be adequate to remedy a study’s lack of genuine utility for someone. Introductions are stronger when they do not serve as pawns for some invented utility disconnected from the study’s true utility and research activities (Figure 1). In this regard, we wish to conclude the editorial with an issue that the reader might be wondering: What happens if our field’s introductions were to practice and follow the proposed design? We envision, though speculatively, a few implications that may follow.
First, researchers may be more successful in communicating and convincing others of their work’s unique value and contribution. By allowing the researcher to step into the audience’s shoes, the proposed design may increase the odds of a more favorable outcome during the review process. This is because a positive assessment from editors and reviewers partly reflects a semiotic sensemaking process; “that is, they look at what the text does” (Patriotta, 2017: 752). Put differently, because editors and reviewers may partly act on behalf of the targeted audience, improving their sensemaking is likely to contribute to a favorable assessment (Patriotta, 2017). A failure to engage with them through a specific utility may result in typical deal-breaking comments during the review process. We say “deal-breaking” because a positive outcome during the peer review process may be possible even in the face of a harsh critique, but the gravitational pull of indifference toward a cognitive abyss is often impossible to overcome—as when a reviewer/editor implies, “I do not buy it. Why should anyone care about this?”
Second, the proposed design may make the review process more productive in two ways. On the one hand, it may provide consistency in the diverse ways that management researchers tend to qualify compelling contributions—such as enriching conversations, novelty, interestingness, and so on. As our discussion demonstrates, such qualifications are essentially the manifestations of offering a novel or improved solution to a problem. On the other hand, both editors and reviewers might find it easier to identify and assess the extent and novelty of a study’s contribution. Our discussion suggests that a study’s contribution can be viewed as stemming from the nature, importance, and distinctiveness of the proposed utility in the domain of either creating a gain (a solution that finds a problem) or relieving a pain (a problem that needs a solution). To the extent that a study’s gain creator or pain reliever differs from prior studies, it will likely offer a more interesting and valuable contribution.
Third, it may enhance the reach, impact, and utility of management research by helping researchers to clarify how their studies create a gain or relieve a pain for different communities. Journal editors may particularly encourage the authors to follow such a design, especially during the conditional acceptance stage, to improve the paper’s potential readability and relevance. The obvious downside is that when an introduction tightly aligns with a target audience’s specific gain or pain, it will increasingly become less relevant to others. But considering that many academic articles go unread, this may be a risk worth taking. For papers oriented toward nonacademic audiences, the design may help develop a coherent story line around practitioners’ gains and pains without compromising theoretical rigor.
In closing, we all want our work to enrich the lives and works of others. For that to happen, people need to read it—which they will not do without knowing its content and whether it is likely to offer something of value. This determination, in turn, begins with the introduction. We provided a framework and some content, structure, and process suggestions for designing an introduction that produces a good first and—possibly—lasting impression.
Supplemental Material
sj-docx-1-jom-10.1177_0149206321997905 – Supplemental material for Designing Scholarly Introductions as Jobs to Be Done
Supplemental material, sj-docx-1-jom-10.1177_0149206321997905 for Designing Scholarly Introductions as Jobs to Be Done by Zeki Simsek and Sali Li in Journal of Management
Supplemental Material
sj-docx-2-jom-10.1177_0149206321997905 – Supplemental material for Designing Scholarly Introductions as Jobs to Be Done
Supplemental material, sj-docx-2-jom-10.1177_0149206321997905 for Designing Scholarly Introductions as Jobs to Be Done by Zeki Simsek and Sali Li in Journal of Management
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
This editorial has been enriched by comments from Belle Ragins, Denis Gregoire, Gerardo Okhuysen, Jason Huang, Jianhong Chen, Mariano (Pitosh) Heyden, M. Serkan Akturk, Markus Baer, MK Chin, Pengxiang Zhang, Richard Priem, Sherry Thatcher, Tatiana Kostova, and Tieying Yu.
Supplemental material for this article is available with the manuscript on the JOM website.
Notes
References
Supplementary Material
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