Compulsive Storytelling

Narrative fallacy is our compulsive need to transform random events into coherent stories. We impose structure on events to make them easier to understand, even if the story oversimplifies or distorts.

The term was popularized by Nassim Nicholas Taleb in The Black Swan, where he argued that narrative fallacies make us blind to randomness and overconfident in predicting the future. Humans are wired to prefer explanations that sound coherent and meaningful. Instead of accepting randomness or uncertainty, we connect the dots into a tidy narrative: a beginning, middle, and end.

When neuroscientists study storytelling, they find that reading narratives activates brain regions involved in deciphering motives. We are neurologically wired to create stories.

Suppose a startup succeeds. The story told afterward: "The founders were visionary risk-takers who built great culture." In reality, many equally visionary startups failed. Timing, market dynamics, or luck may have played larger roles than the story acknowledges.

Stories feel true because they satisfy our craving for meaning. A biography traces a clear line from early influences to greatness, carefully omitting randomness, luck, and countless others with identical backgrounds who never made it.

Research shows that thoughtful clinicians often fill gaps in patient data with theories they have studied. Even experts trained in rigorous analysis cannot resist constructing coherent narratives from incomplete information. The stories become so compelling that we mistake correlation for causation, and sequence for consequence.

There lies the dangerous illusion of understanding. We believe we can predict the future because we have explained the past. But narrative fallacy makes random events appear inevitable, transforming coincidence into purpose.

What if our coherent explanations are elaborate fictions?

The most revealing stories are the ones we tell about ourselves. Try this: identify a significant event from your past that you often reference.

Write down your usual story about what happened and why it mattered. Then ask: what other factors might have contributed that you typically leave out? What about people who were not there? What would someone who disagreed say?

Notice how your brain resists this questioning. The narrative has become so polished through retelling that alternatives seem threatening.

Try rewriting the same event from three perspectives: as pure coincidence, as someone else's story, or as a cautionary tale. Like the witnesses in Rashomon, the facts remain the same, but interpretation and meaning might shift completely.

For structured guidance, the Perspective-Taking Worksheet offers a helpful framework.

The goal is recognizing the difference between what happened and the stories we construct around it. Discomfort reveals where your narratives have turned into certainty. What decisions might you reconsider?

Let me know what you discover.