The Thing About Stories…

As Thomas King says, "The thing about stories, is that's all we are."

In the 1940s, psychologist Bertram Forer gave his students a questionnaire. He used their answers to generate a customized assessment of their personality, which he shared a week later. Most students felt it was bang on — the average rating was 4.3 out of 5.

Of course, this study is famous because every student received the same 13 statements, including:

• “You have a great need for other people to like and admire you.”

• “You pride yourself on being an independent thinker.”

• “You have some weaknesses, but you are generally able to compensate for them.”

  
  

As you read those, you might even see yourself — “I AM proudly independent.”

This is known as the Forer Effect (or Barnum Effect), and it reveals something powerful about human nature: we’re story-driven. We filter reality to fit the narratives we already believe. And once those patterns form, we rarely question them.

Our storytelling instinct is why horoscopes and psychic readings resonate so well with us. It’s a brilliant adaptation — one that helps us cope with a fragile existence in a complex reality.

As Thomas King, one of my favourite academics, says:

“The truth about stories is that’s all we are.”

The great thing about our sensemaking is that it helps us survive.The problem is, the stories we tell ourselves can also keep us stuck.

I see it all the time:

• I’m not a visionary.

• I’m not a creative leader.

• I’m the kind of person who plays it safe.

  
  

Worse, our teams say it too:

• That’s not how we do things here.

• That idea will never fly.

• That’s above my pay grade.

  
  

These aren’t just words — they’re stories that shape behavior. And these ones in particular tend to kill innovation and limit adaptability.

I’ve experienced the limits of self-narrative myself. I studied magic for years, but I didn’t call — or even think of — myself as a “magician.” I saw magicians as people who invented illusions, performed on big stages, mystified late-night TV hosts. That wasn’t me.

In my mind, I stayed a “student of magic.” And so I didn’t create. I didn’t perform. I didn’t dare dream about being on TV.

What’s most interesting is that this wasn’t a conscious choice — it was a hidden narrative that kept me playing small. I’d assigned myself a label that shaped my behavior, and I didn’t even realize I was stuck in a loop.

It wasn’t until a friend casually introduced me to his colleagues as a magician that I paused: Am I actually a magician?

Just considering the possibility started to shift my behavior.

I performed more. I created more. I took more risks — as magicians do. I started thinking of myself as an artist with something to say, not just a hobbyist with something to learn.

That’s the power of a story shift.

So I invite you to pay attention to the stories you’re telling yourself — perhaps without even realizing it.

What labels are you wearing that might be unconsciously keeping you stuck? What personal or professional stories are you or your team telling that hold you back?

Try asking:“What if this is just a story?”

• “I’m not a visionary.” → But what if that’s just a story? What would being a visionary look like for me?

• “I’m not a creative leader.” → But what if that’s just a story? How might I show up differently?

• “That’s not how we do things here.” → But what if that’s just a story? Why can’t we try something new?

  
  

Catching ourselves in our stories is the first step toward transformation.

Story shifts are how we begin living In•Possibility — when we loosen our grip on fixed identities, we make room to grow, adapt, and imagine new futures.

And if you lead a team, imagine what might be possible if you gave them permission to rewrite their stories too.

So here’s your invitation: This week, notice the stories you’re telling — and decide which ones are worth rewriting.

And if this sparked something for you, share it with someone who might be stuck in a story of their own.