Most people don't quit because of one bad day. They quit because of a pattern they couldn't quite name. It’s the endless firefighting. The project that kept stalling. The career that somehow felt like it was running in place despite all the effort.
That was me.
I used to think the solution was just to work harder and to push through no matter what. But working harder doesn't always mean better. Sometimes it just means burning more fuel inside a system you don't fully understand. Here's the pattern most of us fall into: we respond to what's right in front of us.
→ The backlog grows, so we stay late to close tickets → A teammate struggles, so we quietly absorb their work → Leadership is vague, so we work harder to prove we're committed
At first, it feels noble. It feels like you're helping. But if you zoom out, you see these fixes rarely change the underlying pattern. You've treated the symptom and not the system. You're being reactive and not proactive.
That's what systems thinking interrupts. It gives you the lens to ask: Why is this happening? What loops are reinforcing it? Where is the leverage point?
My path to systems thinking didn't start with strategy frameworks or engineering diagrams. It started in messier places.
I was a failing day trader in high school, chasing news narratives instead of understanding market fundamentals. Later, I worked as a math camp counselor with kids who had more raw talent than I did, which taught me that systems and approach often matter more than ability. I taught chess, learned every role at Goodfellas Pizzeria in Cincinnati, studied mechanical engineering, and eventually moved into software and technical writing.
Each role taught me something about leverage and about how small forces ripple through bigger systems. I learned about the neglected part that quietly drags down an entire machine. The well-timed explanation that flips a student's confidence. The invisible "glue work" that determines whether a project succeeds or burns people out.
I didn't always have language for it, but I was mapping leverage long before I wrote about it.
You don’t need me to tell you the world feels more complex, faster-moving, and harder to read than it used to.
The old playbooks of working harder, specializing narrowly, and trusting the ladder don’t hold.
What does hold is this: people who can see systems clearly move differently. They waste less energy. They position themselves better. They design for trust instead of waiting for it. The truth is that most people don't need more effort. They need better maps.
That’s the gap Leverage Maps aims to close.
A leverage map is exactly what it sounds like. It’s a way of surfacing the hidden feedback loops inside a system so you can act more strategically.
It’s not a formal method. It’s not about drawing the perfect causal loop diagram or running simulations. It’s about clarity.
Sometimes the map is a literal diagram. Other times, it’s a story, a metaphor, or even a conviction that keeps you oriented. The point isn’t the format. Iit’s the leverage.
I wrote this book for knowledge workers who keep running into invisible walls:
If you’ve ever felt like you’re doing everything “right” but still out of sync with the system around you, this is for you.
Each chapter is built around a specific leverage map. They began as essays—field reports from my own career, written during and after my sabbatical. What you’ll find here is the stitched-together version: six maps that cover personal clarity, organizational systems, and career navigation.
Every chapter ends with a Leverage Summary: a one-page diagnostic with questions, a simple map, and action steps. My goal is that you can finish a chapter and immediately apply it at work—or to your own career decisions.
You don’t have to read linearly. If you’re wrestling with misalignment, jump to Chapter 6. If you’re burned out by glue work, go to Chapter 4. If you’re rethinking your career path, start with Chapter 2.
But if you do read straight through, you’ll notice an arc:
By the end, you’ll not only have six leverage maps—you’ll see how they connect.
My hope is simple. You’ll start spotting systems where you once saw only symptoms.
Systems thinking doesn’t eliminate complexity. But it gives you orientation. It shows you where to put your limited energy so it compounds instead of dissipating.
This book is a mini-map itself: a small, contained version of a larger exploration. In time, Leverage Maps may grow into a series of books covering ramps, pressure points, repair strategies, and exit systems. But this one is the foundation.
You don’t need the full series to start. These six maps are enough to change how you move tomorrow. Because the truth is, most people don’t need more effort. They need better maps. And once you can see the patterns, you can stop swimming upstream and start designing with the current.
That’s the leverage I hope this book gives you.