Have you seen Wicked: For Good?
First off, if you're going to see it, go see it in the theater. Second, I can't promise no spoilers but I tried, but also the show is 20 years old.
Our family saw it over Thanksgiving weekend. Afterwards, and after the usual back and forths of "Did you like it?," "What was your favorite part?," etc, my six-year-old piped up from the back and asked, "Who was it about?"
This seems like the most obvious answer. It's about the witches. But then the thought hit me, "there wouldn't be two protagonists in one story."
And as if on cue, what he said next shook me: "The first movie was about Elphaba. The second was about Glinda. She changed the most."
Story is transformation. The protagonist is the one who transforms the most.
The word "protagonist" feels mythological. Slightly untouchable. It usually triggers up dramatic memories of high school English. In pop culture, the protagonist is Frodo in Lord of the Rings. Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. Luke Skywalker in the Empire Strikes Back.
The protagonist is the character who goes through the journey and ends up on the other side a changed person.
And you think, great. That's cool and all but I'm trying to finish my app. I'm trying to change my industry. I'm trying to get a busload of kids on stage for their choral performance.
Yes.
Which means, at that moment, you're Frodo. You're Dorothy. You're Luke Skywalker. Even if just for a moment.
A lot of people equate those names with heroes, and think, "I'm not trying to be a hero." But there's a difference. I'm not talking about Marvel characters. I don't think Glinda in Wicked: For Good is a hero. But she IS the one who decides to break the system, and it's her war we're watching.
If you're going through the pain of a launch, or a performance, or a yearly funding plan, you're the one struggling. You're the one waging war. You're the one who will be changed the most when you finish the journey.
And if you're like most leaders I've worked with, you've been playing the supporting character—and not even realizing it.
Every time you say, "We're like Evernote, but" or "We're the next Facebook," or "Our program is for the community", you're casting yourself as their wise-yet-supporting role. Their story, their framework, their category.
Understandable, yes. Noble, sure. But you're doing it on their terms.
Protagonists do the opposite. They own their journey. They define their terms. They know the change they're after. They're clear about who they are. They're decisive what they do. They own their journey.
There's a series of questions I pose to all my clients:
Who are you?
What do you do?
Why is it important?
How clear can you be with your answers? Knowing your journey is the first part of choosing it.