From Fiction to Leadership: What My Novel is Teaching Me
I never thought I’d write fiction. But when a character captured my imagination, I followed. What she, and this creative process, are revealing about identity and leadership is truly surprising.
When I started writing the book I’m currently working on, I never imagined myself as a fiction writer. I had always believed I would write a book—yes—but in my mind, it would be a synthesis of years studying and embodying leadership principles.
Then, during a casual meeting with friends, we were inspired to do a spontaneous creative exercise: creating characters. I was unexpectedly hooked by the backstory of the character I invented. Over the following months, she kept returning to me—in dreams, in quiet moments of reflection, in daydreams. Eventually, I decided to flesh her out. I thought I’d write just one chapter. But as I began to write, an entire world began unfolding on the page.
The process since those first scribbles has been nothing short of transformative: a rediscovery of a creative aspect of me that I never knew I missed.
I wrote without structure or plan, without form or clear intention. The story wanted out, and I allowed it, treating it at first like a hobby. But at some point, there was simply too much material to ignore—the seed of an idea had become a branching plot.
I’m fortunate to have found an incredible book coach who’s helping me bring shape to this wild, beautiful thing. I’m now walking into deeper layers of the narrative, zooming out to the overarching plot, wading into beat sheets, simmering in the scenes and dialogue that are emerging into a fully present story.
I’ll admit it: I’m a reluctant author. I sometimes wrestle with the idea that I’m the creator of this piece. And yet, much as I may doubt, the fact remains—the story keeps unfolding.
What I’m learning is this: within the psyche is a landscape so expansive it can hold entire worlds—magical systems, multiple biographies, detailed sensory experiences—all waiting to be discovered, as if hidden just beneath the surface. It’s opened my eyes to a strange truth: as we move through our days, planning and organising ourselves around tasks and goals, meticulously time-blocking to hit our targets—we rarely pause to integrate those efforts into our inner narrative.
And yet, narrative might be the most human element of creation.
Who are we, if not the sum of our stories?
Let me take a moment to synthesise what I’ve learned from this process through three lenses: Neurology, Self-Image, and Self-Expression.It is this aspect of narrative that I am realising is the very human aspect of creativity and creation. Who are we if we are not the sum of our stories? Let me take a moment to synthesise my learnings from three perspectives; Neurology, Self-image, and Self-expression.
Neurology: The Grammar of Integration
Our brains are wired for story. Narrative helps integrate memory, emotion, and identity. When we write or tell stories, we’re not just communicating—we’re reorganising our internal worlds. This is a central tenet of psychology, and why talk therapy can be so transformative. When we are in dialogue with a friend, a therapist, or a coach the narrative is alive between the two. I’m sure I’m not alone in having shared a story with a friend only to be gently questioned about either my perspective or my assumptions. In the questions come deeper reflection and, most importantly, the choice: what perspective do I want to take, and how might that shape my behaviours?
Self-Image: The Sum of Our Stories
The stories we tell about ourselves shape how we see ourselves. Every character we meet or create offers a mirror—sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes liberating. Writing fiction has helped me examine the many selves I carry and the beliefs I hold about who I am. In my coaching, I often see my clients return to the basics, "I am an inclusive leader,” “I am an efficient executor,” “I am a relationship-oriented collaborator.” These traits can be aspirational at first, but the more we inhabit the “I AM…” the clearer our desired behaviours become. With feedback from others we can calibrate and grow beyond what we thought was possible.
Self-Expression: We Are the Creator
To write is to acknowledge agency. Even when the story feels like it’s writing itself, it’s still flowing through me, I am participating. It’s a dance between surrender and authorship, between the comfort of the known and the thrill of discovery. It is being co-created with all the cultural assumptions and self-images I have gathered - and chosen to believe - until now.
So Then, What Is Leadership?
I’ve always been fascinated by leadership—both as a noun and a verb.
When I studied it in my master’s program, I saw how the concept evolved over time. During the Industrial Revolution, leadership was largely about performance and efficiency. Later, leadership theories incorporated personality traits and relationships. More recently, leadership has been explored through increasingly complex systems—seeking to understand how it influences everything from organisational outcomes to personal well-being and cultural cohesion. What’s remarkable is its fluidity—leadership is shaped by our collective and individual beliefs about the future, grounded in our experiences of the past and present.
Yet, none of these frameworks has produced a definitive way to do leadership.
Often, we resort to adjectives—authentic, visionary, innovative—to define it. These qualifiers help contextualize leadership, creating traction in both academic and practical research. But in doing so, we risk losing sight of leadership’s original purpose.
Leadership is not a formula. It’s a collection of behaviours and visions aimed at a future state. Whether it’s an individual forging a path or a culture aligning around collective goals, leadership is about movement—toward something meaningful.
In that sense, leadership is always a verb. It makes sense of the past while imagining the future. And in that liminal space—between what was and what could be—identity and culture are forged.
Through writing, I’m confronting deeply held beliefs—reconsidering how they shape my worldview and even how I define leadership itself.
And so I’ll ask you:
How are you defining leadership?
Where do your ideas about leadership come from?
Are they based on outcomes, expression, vision, or something else entirely?