Narrative Strategy: "What Do You Do?"
I attended several events this past weekend where I was predictably asked, “what do you do?” As much as I want to quip “I exist and pay taxes,” I remember people are simply trying to categorize the new person in front of them. It’s how we make sense of strangers. And that’s fair. But I try to turn that question back into learning more about the asker. Because I’m not just a “narrative strategist” or a “strategic advisor.” I’m a person having a conversation, curious about your world. What story are you living in right now? What obstacles are you facing, and where are you heading?
I’ll admit, this might sound pedantic, but here’s the good part:
I love sharing about my work and passions—but only when it makes sense in the moment. I think there’s a threshold of trust that has to be crossed before we reveal the deeper parts of what we’re creating in this short life. I used to desperately try to match my “professional doing” with whatever the other person might be seeking. That’s how I thought business was done. But if you’ve been around long enough, you realize how corrosive that is. My old co-dependency behaviors would flare when I tried to gauge if someone could be a good collaborator or client, and it always ended poorly.
So what does this have to do with narrative strategy?
While I usually craft narratives for organizations, I have to practice what I preach and craft my own. Not just career goals or self-help exercises—but a clear answer to the simple question: so what?
Because narrative strategy isn’t just about outcomes you can brag about. It’s about purpose and meaning. And yes, I gag a little too when I read yet another post about “finding your purpose.” But it’s still true.
A narrative strategy is a system of stories that makes your purpose tangible and your meaning irresistible. It’s a kind of faith system—but one you create yourself.
Here’s mine right now. These are the stories I listen for, tell, and steward:
Stories of complexity, multiplicity, and adaptation — our ability to navigate ambiguity, uncertainty, and volatility.
Stories of repair — what happens when we acknowledge harm and restore what’s been damaged.
Stories of post-scarcity societies — what if we reject dystopia? What if we get it right?
These stories are fiction and non-fiction. They’re the ones I embrace and evangelize, trusting that the more I engage them, the more they shape the futures I want.
In practice, that looks like:
designing narratives for startups creating futures I want to live in, often stepping into commercialization or product to turn vision into reality.
reading fiction about futures that don’t terrify me, and experimenting with my own futurecraft.
helping new behaviors and innovations stick in regulated industries like healthcare and agriculture.
volunteering at my local food distribution center every other Friday.
What I find most gratifying is helping groups of people find their shared purpose and meaning. That’s what translates into outcomes. And those outcomes become the world we live in.
When we pull at the threads of story to create purpose and meaning—and support them with the human coordination and communications that make outcomes possible—our ideas stop being fleeting moments of wonder. They become tangible artifacts of the futures we’ve been seeking.
So the next time someone asks me, “what do you do?”—this is what I’m really working on.