Do managers and leaders need to be creative?

‘How can I (learn to) be more creative?’ This is one of the questions I’m frequently asked as a strategist, advisor and leadership coach. Creativity is one of the least researched ‘fields of expertise’, if I can call it that. Perhaps the difficulty in defining exactly what it is (or isn’t) explains why. The leaders and managers I work with are often surprised at just how creative some of what we do in strategy-related projects, workshops and development programmes actually is. For many, strategy is perceived to be about targets and goals, analysis and facts. There is little space for people’s more natural intuition and gut instinct, let alone tapping into their creativity and playfulness, or finding solutions beyond the obvious or even from left field.

The more analytical left brain dominates the right. That spark of a brilliant idea emerging from someone’s unconscious mind in the middle of a workshop will rapidly be suppressed by their own more rational conscious mind – or by someone else’s – if it manages to get any air time at all.

What is creativity?

Let’s pause on the word itself – what does creativity mean? What does it mean to you personally?

Do you consider yourself to be a creative person? Who do you perceive to be creative in your own social circles? What about in the public domain? Historically or present day.

To answer the last question, many people will naturally point towards those in certain professions – artists, authors, musicians, painters, sculptors, film directors, accountants maybe…? However, can anyone be creative? I would argue that most people have to be creative on an almost daily basis, to solve a problem, overcome a challenge, get themselves out of a difficult situation, make decisions and so on.

In workshops, I invite people to take a blank sheet of paper and draw out 15 empty circles in a grid, three by five, ensuring that the circles are large enough to draw in. Next, I tell them, ‘When I say start, please draw something different in each circle. You have one minute. Start!’

Some people look at me blankly; others look bemused. Some dive straight in and fly through the circles; others put pen to paper, and then pause.

After a minute – or maybe a little longer, just to let people fill in as many circles as possible – I invite them to share their artwork. This usually draws a few laughs, smiles and embarrassed looks. Some hide their work. Typically, people will have filled in most or all of the circles with a combination of symbols, stick men, emoji-style faces and pseudo-hieroglyphics.

I then ask a selection of people to tell me what they actually drew – or tell me about their drawings. They will do so rationally and objectively, talking through what’s on the sheet, often circle by circle.

Finally, I invite people to comment on the process and, more specifically, reflect on what they were thinking and feeling, and how they behaved from the moment I gave the initial instructions. This naturally makes them pause and think – I see their eyes moving upwards.