How has your background shaped your work?
I always wanted to be a doctor as a child, but it wasn’t the right academic path for me.

After an undergraduate degree in history and Russian, I did an MA in creative writing for personal development, which focused on creative writing in the context of health, education and therapy. After a few years teaching community-based creative writing workshops, I did PhD in Creative Writing.

Along the way, I’ve always done my own writing. I struggled with mental health in my teens and used writing as a way of supporting myself. And I noticed that many people drawn to creative writing groups were managing health conditions – physical or mental. I wanted to work with and learn from them.

Why did you make the switch to the public sector?
When I started my PhD, I began working with Manchester University’s Centre for New Writing, delivering workshops in community settings.

Then I was offered a postdoctoral fellowship researching creativity and well-being with Lime Arts – a hospital-based arts organisation. That involved going into hospitals and working on wards with staff and patients, doing practise-based research, which involved running and then reflecting on creative writing activities.

My research built on work that’s been going on in the UK since at least the 1980s—using creative practices in health settings as a tool for well-being. There’s a wealth of evidence showing that creativity – and especially creative writing – enhances and supports well-being.

I also explored how poetry and other forms can help people make sense of embodied experiences – like hospitalisation or working in a hospital – and express things that people find difficult to say.

One nurse told me, “Through poetry you can say things that can’t be said any other way.” You can tell things at a slant, find other ways of saying things without being literal, but still communicate what you’re feeling.

What is the most important principle in your work?
Writing as a means of building connections. In healthcare, the hierarchy and systems are there to protect patients and keep things running. But they can be very dehumanising for staff and patients. They create a sense of separation between ‘the doer’ and ‘the done to’, as well as barriers within teams.

In moments where people do something creative together, those hierarchies fall away – even if just briefly. That’s powerful and beneficial for everyone involved.

I’ve run workshops for different departments like diabetes, sexual health, and paediatric oncology. They allow teams to get to know each other differently – to share, laugh, and discover new things about each other. That playfulness is vital to creativity but it often gets lost in the serious environment of healthcare. Reintroducing it – even just for a couple of hours – can improve team cohesion and mental health.

What trends are you seeing in healthcare?
Most of the people I work with are feeling enormous amounts of stress. This is now compounded by the idea that they need to maintain well-being, too, so they can keep working.

Providing time to reflect is one way to help with that – especially in company, where others really listen and respond. That sense of being heard, or someone saying, “I felt that too” is huge. It’s rare in work environments to have that kind of emotional openness.

This focus on mental well-being runs through all of my work, including my teaching. A lot of the students I work with are dealing with mental health issues, so this creative well-being angle informs every aspect of what I do.

What are the biggest misconceptions you see in your work?
Most people I’ve met in hospitals already value the arts. That might be because Manchester has such a well-established arts-for-health programmes. The problem is more often logistical – people want to participate, but can’t always get time away from the ward, even for 15 minutes.

Healthcare organisations need to create work environments that are sustainable if they are to retain good people – and there’s really strong evidence that creativity can help prevent burnout.

What’s on the horizon for you?
As well as my teaching work, I’m writing some fairy tales set in Manchester, I’m touring an opera called Voices of the Sands, which is about a sandbar off the Kent coast, and I’m working with humanities colleagues around how creative work can help engage people with climate crisis.

My work gives me hope. We live in such a complicated world and these moments of connection – sitting in a group, writing and sharing – remind me what’s possible when we take a moment to pause.

1. Reconnect with what drew you to writing in the first place. As a communicator, you need to meet the brief – but if you honour the process, it can nourish you too.

2. Jot down new ideas by hand Because it’s slower and more physical, it connects hand, eye, and brain. That embodied attunement might shift something.

3. Bypass your inner critic with free writing Timed writing, without stopping or self-editing, helps uncover what you really want to say and lets surprising ideas emerge. Use it to prepare for writing, meetings or presentations.

How has your background shaped your work?
I had no plan. School was rough and not somewhere I thrived. I liked English and art but I didn’t get any careers advice. I dropped out of college, drifted through a bunch of jobs and eventually ended up in sales. I hated it. Then one day I noticed the marketing and comms team doing work that blended the bits I liked – writing, design, ideas. I asked if I could join them – but I had no qualifications or experience and they laughed me out of the room.

So I went to night school and studied communications, advertising and marketing. Eventually, I went to university at 25, doing the UK’s first ever PR degree. That changed everything. My first big comms job was working on the Euro 96 football tournament. I’ve been working in comms ever since – in the NHS, local government, utilities and agencies.

Why did you make the switch to the public sector?
Initially, it wasn’t because of values. I just fancied giving it a go. But looking back, the culture and the purpose of the public sector were much more aligned with what I cared about.

Working in health – at Health Education England – gave me a better understanding of how complex, fragmented and fast-moving the sector is. And it’s not just the NHS – so many vital health services are delivered by charities or other providers. In the end, the people doing the work often share the same goals. That’s true across health and other public sector comms.

Now, most of my work is with public sector organisations as a consultant. I still feel like a public sector comms person at heart – and health and wellbeing is a big part of that world.

What’s the most important principle in your work?
I once heard it said that comms people have to be the grit in the oyster and that stuck with me. Sometimes you’re the only person in the room who sees that something is going to go badly wrong, and you have to speak up.

There’s often pressure to just say ‘yes’: get the press release out, put the video live. But we need to ask: is this the right thing to do? Would Apple redesign their brand by running a schools competition? No. So why should we?
Also, we also need to talk about risk. Years ago, I got sent on a health and safety course I’d been dodging but it ended up being brilliant. The facilitator said: ‘What’s the best way to manage a risk? Remove it.’

I still think about that a lot. If we’re honest with ourselves – especially in health and care – a lot of communications work is about patching things up that should have been done properly in the first place. If we’re involved earlier in the conversation, we can help prevent things going wrong in the first place.

What are the biggest misconceptions you see in your work?
There’s still a tendency to think of comms as just delivery – write the content, send the tweet, make it look good. But really, comms is the bridge between strategy and delivery. We translate vision into something that connects.

That means we see the cracks others don’t. For some reason, comms is something everyone thinks they can do! But comms professionals will be asking: ‘What are we really trying to achieve here?’, ‘Who is this for?’, ‘Is it going to land?’ That sometimes makes us unpopular but it prevents people wasting their time and public money.

There’s also a misconception that you can just keep piling on more. ‘More for less’ is a phrase that needs to die. We’ve been saying it since austerity, but it’s misleading. You can’t do 25 things well with no money. Better to do five things that actually make a difference.

What trends are you seeing in health communication?
One positive trend is a shift from vanity metrics to reputation. I know one NHS Trust that’s stopped counting likes and reach. They’re focused on what people are actually saying about them – and they’re seeing results.

Another shift is around platforms. I know some NHS bodies are pulling out of Twitter/X. But if you’re not part of the conversation, someone else fills that space. There’s already so much misinformation. If you care about health literacy, inclusion or trust – you need to be visible.

I also think we’ve got to protect creative headspace. That means pushing back on bad sign-off processes, being realistic about timelines, and giving people time to think. Especially in health, where the emotional load is high, we need space to reflect and make better decisions.

What’s on the horizon for you?
It’s been 10 years since I set up as a consultant, and I still love the variety of the work. One thing I’ve built in recent years is a small interim matching service – helping public sector teams find experienced comms people quickly. I don’t do interim work myself, but I enjoy helping others step into roles where they can make a difference fast.

Beyond that, I want to keep doing work that matters – supporting teams under pressure, helping them find a bit more space to think and my passion project, the Comms UnAwards, which showcases excellent practice.

1. Be the grit in the oyster. Question decisions. Push back. You’re not just there to say yes.

2. Start with people, not platforms. Keep asking what your audience needs and how comms can actually help.

3. Make space to think. The best ideas need room to emerge.

How has your background shaped your work?
I always had a love of writing and had a passion for journalism. I went to journalism college after school, worked on local newspapers, and then studied media studies at what was then the Polytechnic of Central London.

When I graduated, one of the old Regional Health Authorities in the NHS (about five restructures ago!) was looking for a PR officer. They approached the course leaders, and I got the job.

Why did you make the switch to healthcare communicator?
It was completely by accident that my first job was in health. But I quickly caught the bug for health communications. I’ve been in the field pretty much ever since, mostly in mental health, with stints in ambulance services, an acute trust and, briefly, as a special advisor at the Department of Health.

I’ve always loved the power of a good story and the ability to use words to create meaning, convey complex ideas and help make sense of things. What really drew me in was the variety – media relations, digital comms, strategic planning – there’s so much to get involved in.

What is the most important principle for you when developing healthcare content?
Social justice. During one of my earlier jobs, at the Maudsley Hospital and the Institute of Psychiatry in 1997, I became really passionate about the role comms can play in public education: tackling stigma and busting myths around mental health. It’s a role that genuinely adds value to what clinicians do.

About 10 years ago when I was at the South London and Maudsley NHS Foundation Trust, we did a four-part documentary series with Channel 4 called Bedlam, following the journeys of people with serious mental health problems. It was a real privilege to be involved in that piece of work and it had a huge impact – we won a BAFTA. We did it to try and help demystify mental health conditions and services, and to convey that recovery is possible with the right support.

There’s still stigma and discrimination around mental health and learning disabilities, but public attitudes have shifted considerably, and health communications and public relations have played their part in that.

What’s the biggest misconception you see in your work?
That communication is a one-way process – that it’s all about reputation management. I think of it as more about relationships – with all your stakeholders, whether the public, patients, families or staff.

And at our best, communications also add value in supporting change and improvement – whether helping explain strategy, tough decisions or change in a way that’s clear, honest and authentic.

It’s also about encouraging clarity in everything you do. For example, at our Trust, we realised our complaint responses were often too corporate, too long and didn’t get to the heart of the issue, so I’m leading on complaints improvement, including response times, clarity of content, and tone of voice.

There’s still a view in parts of the NHS that saying sorry equals admitting liability. But it’s powerful to acknowledge mistakes. Sometimes, you just have to say, ‘We got this wrong. Thank you for raising it. Here’s what we’ll do to try and prevent it happening again.’ That not only respects the voices of patients and carers – it also improves your service.

What trends are you seeing in the sector?
I’m excited about the growing professionalism of communications. In some quarters there’s still a view of it as a slightly superficial, cosmetic function that’s all about spin, but it’s beginning to shift.

Alongside my day job I’m deputy director of the Centre for Health Communications Research, which is in part about bringing an academic grounding to our practice. A couple of months ago we launched the postgraduate programme for NHS Communications and engagement professionals and we have about 20 practitioners in the current cohort.

That’s important as you don’t often see academics who are practising in the field of communications. I wonder whether people think the abstract theoretical stuff doesn’t have much to do with the day-to-day job of being a comms or PR practitioner. Whereas I would argue that it that it absolutely does, because it means your practice by credible evidence, not guesswork.

And if we’re serious about communications being a strategic function, with the same weight around the board table as Finance and HR, then having that evidence base enables us to talk with credibility and authority.

As part of this, the NHS Taskforce on Diversity, led by Edna Boampong (see the interview with her here), is shortly publishing its report on addressing the lack of diversity in NHS comms – a welcome opportunity to tackle this issue.

What’s on the horizon for you?
I’ve just about completed my PhD thesis in organisational change, leadership and communications in the NHS, which I’m hoping to publish in a peer-reviewed journal.

Change is often conceptualised as a technical, rational process. I contend that to do it successfully, you have to increase awareness of the emotional impact. I’ve developed a conceptual framework called Grounded Optimism. This is essentially about having a hopeful, realistic and plausible organisational vision where you’re open about the challenges associated with change.

It feels like a pertinent topic for our times. The NHS is facing high levels of need, with finite resources. Despite the great work being done every day, public satisfaction is low and people are frustrated with access and waiting times.

So we need to be up front about these problems, while holding up the hope that improvement is possible. And clear, timely, two-way communication and engagement will play a critical role in making that happen.

1. Stay curious. Keep learning. Especially as you get more experienced, it’s easy to think you’ve got it figured out. But there’s always more to explore.

2. Be open to change. There are always new practices, new ways of doing things. That’s what keeps me excited – seeing what others are doing across the NHS, other public services and the private sector.

3. Don’t be afraid to experiment. Our job isn’t about having one fixed answer – it’s about knowing there are different ways to approach challenges.

How has your background shaped your work?
I did a degree in English, then a master’s focused on 18th-century literature and society. It was quite specialist but I loved stories and reading. And even now, in work, stories are really important.

After university I worked in various roles, including retail and even started training as a tax consultant before I joined Brook as PA to the Chief Executive. That job started me gently into comms and engagement. I supported the annual conference and got interested in events.

From there, I worked at the National AIDS Trust in a split role – supporting publications and external comms – which gave me a broader grounding in comms. After travelling and working in events in Sydney, I returned to the UK and ran conference programmes at Homeless Link. I loved bringing people together and learning how events support both practice and policy change.

Later, I held roles at The King’s Fund, Nuffield Trust, and the Health Foundation. Each one deepened my understanding of improving the quality of healthcare, audiences and storytelling. At the Health Foundation, I helped launch the campaign for the Power of People films, which told stories of healthcare improvement in a human way.

Why did you make the switch to healthcare communicator?
It wasn’t a switch so much as a gradual build. Starting with events roles helped me understand what people need from communication – clarity, relevance, a sense of connection. I moved from logistics to thinking more about what makes content accessible and land with the right people. Over time, I picked up skills in CRM, digital and strategy – and that gave me a much broader perspective.

Now at THIS Institute, I love that variety. One day I might be working on a podcast, the next shaping a comms plan for a research project or thinking about evaluating our communications and engagement approaches. It brings together everything I’ve learned so far.

What is the most important principle for you when developing healthcare content?
Equity, diversity and inclusion has become a central focus in my work. Since the pandemic, there’s been a much more explicit emphasis on it – and that’s a good thing. But I don’t want it to be a trend. I want it to be embedded in how we work.

Personally, a big moment for me was when my son brought home a school book and said, “Look, there’s a boy like me on the cover.” It struck me how powerful and necessary representation is. I didn’t have that when I was younger – and maybe I wouldn’t have noticed, but he did. It made me realise how much that matters.

I’m not an EDI expert, but I’m leading a project in our team to improve how we reflect it in our comms and engagement approaches. We’ve audited our content, researched best practice, talked to other organisations and drafted practical tools – like an ‘EDI in events’ checklist and an imagery checklist – and we’ve helped to develop EDI-informed document and presentation templates.

We’re not trying to do everything – we’re just trying to do what’s meaningful and useful for our team and our audiences. Iterative change is more achievable and sustainable than sweeping statements. It’s work that requires openness – to different views, to learning, to getting things wrong sometimes. But if we empower people to feel confident trying, that’s a big step forward.

What trends are you seeing in healthcare communication?
AI is the trend I’ve seen accelerate the fastest. Before I went on maternity leave in 2023, there was still quite a bit of scepticism. When I came back, people were using it – not asking whether to, but how to do it well.

We follow university policy, so our use is measured. I’ve seen colleagues use AI as a sounding board, to test things out, and its use in comms and engagement is evolving. It’s not about replacing people – it’s about saving time and helping us. And I think that shift – from doubt to adoption – has happened quickly and noticeably.

What are the biggest misconceptions you see in your work?
That you bring comms in at the end, to ‘disseminate’ something.

Comms and engagement is strategic. When we’re involved early, we can help shape the direction of a project, ask different questions, and find better ways to connect with the audiences you care about. It’s not just what you say – it’s how, when, and where you say it. It’s also about understanding what people need.

What’s on the horizon for you?
Continuing the EDI work is a priority – but I’m also interested in digital innovation. When I was on maternity leave, I wasn’t thinking about work. But I consumed so much content – good emails, clever retail pages, the BBC’s interactive features. And I found myself wondering: ‘Could we use this approach in our work?’

Since I’ve been back at work, I’ve had more good ideas because I’ve had that outside perspective. I’m interested in web formats like shorthand – integrating charts, video, text and audio in one place. It’s about making content clearer, richer, more accessible. Not just for policy or academic audiences, but for people working in healthcare, or with lived experience, who want to understand and act.

1. You don’t have to be a confident writer to be good at comms. If you’re unsure, read your copy out loud. If something’s off, you’ll usually hear it. If you’re still not sure, ask someone else to look at what you’ve written.

2. Check you’re not excluding anyone. Before you publish or start an activity to engage people, step back and ask: who is this for, and how will it make them feel?

3. Resonance matters. Don’t just aim for clarity – make it useful, engaging and accessible to the audience you want to reach.

How has your background shaped your work?
I always wanted to be a journalist and that’s how I started my career – working on housing, environmental and health trade titles. I did a lot of work interviewing people facing public health challenges, and that really, really shaped my thinking on the impact of social determinants on health inequality.

From there, I moved into medical education publishing and in 2020 a colleague and myself set up our own agency, called Oyster Healthcare Communications. We ran it for 20 years and did some good work – especially engaging people with lived experience.

In those days, it was rare to include voices of patients, or even actually healthcare professionals. But it seemed alien to me that you wouldn’t listen to the people you were developing materials for.

When did you start your current role?
In 2017 my kids had grown up and I was ready for a career change. So I wound up the company and was doing some consultancy while I was considering what to do next. Then the job came up at PIF.

I was already a PIF member and I believed passionately in health literacy, user involvement and evidence-based information. And through this role I could influence practice nationally, for the public good. It was the ideal opportunity to do something more purpose driven and aligned with my values.

What’s the most important principle in your work?
Making sure people can find health information they can trust. There’s a high level of misinformation out there. But even when good information is there, it’s not always used. Our Ipsos research found that only one in five people with a long-term condition had been given any information from their healthcare professional post diagnosis. But people value it hugely. So we need to embed this through the NHS app and the new patient health record.

Healthcare professionals and the public should look for the PIF TICK – a trust mark that certifies organisations. It focuses on involving users, measuring impact, accessibility, health literacy and making sure health information is produced by trained professionals using a robust process. So far, we have 150 certified organisations, with more in the pipeline and there’s growing recognition of the tick – including 10% of young people, as a recent study found.

What are the biggest misconceptions you see in your work?
First, that when we’re talking about information, we don’t just mean a leaflet. People need different things at different points on that journey and ‘information’ can take many forms. The first step might be a conversation, for example. But then people don’t always retain information from conversations, so at different times they might need written information, a helpline, a website, video or written content, a self-management app… So it’s about right information at the right time

We’ve developed and tested our Perfect patient information journey – a co-production methodology for health information. This can be used in all care pathways, from long-term conditions to maternity. It identifies the points at which people say they the most need information and support.

The second misconception is how much people understand. Our recommended reading age for health information is 9 to 11. But for a significant proportion of people, even that will be too complex. Low literacy and health literacy aligns to health inequalities.

Meanwhile, in conversations with healthcare professionals, people often say they understand when they don’t, so someone thinks they’ve delivered information, but it hasn’t actually been processed. And shock, sickness and trauma can affect anyone’s ability to understand, whatever their education levels. So health literacy is really important.

What trends are you seeing in health communication?
It’s a time of rapid change. In the US, we’re seeing sweeping changes, with data relating to diversity and inclusion being stripped out of databases like PubMed. That reduces the evidence pool, so it has long-term as well as immediate impacts. It’s completely at odds with the work happening elsewhere, such as improving diversity in clinical trials.

In the Knowledge is power research we did with Ipsos last year, we found quite a significant ethnic disparity in access to information and trust in information. If people don’t feel their views are listened to or respected, this can siphon them towards misinformation.

What’s on the horizon for you?
This year is the fifth birthday of the PIF TICK. In retrospect, 2020 was the ideal time to launch it because the challenge of misinformation has exploded since the pandemic.

It’s now also supercharged now by changes in tech such as AI summaries on search engines, the removal of factchecking on social media and the power of influencers. So there’s never been a more important time to have a credibility mark for health information to help people find health information that is useable, understandable and credible.

All these new technologies have the potential to be good or bad. There are some great opportunities with AI. It can really open up information for people who don’t have English as a first language.

We’re working across sectors, with a range of partners, to look at ways of embedding signposting to trusted sources. We want to support improvements in health and media literacy and promote credibility in health information.

Some of the ideas in the NHS Plan have potential, too. A single health record could be a really powerful tool to embed high-quality health information into people’s journeys. I’m an optimistic person. I do believe we can make these things work for the good of people, but we’ve got to keep up the pressure.

1. Seek user input right from the start of your project. It’s easy to make assumptions about what people need.

2. Prioritise health literacy. Use plain language and numbers at the right level for your audience.

3. Focus on dissemination. People often focus on creating content but forget to plan how they’ll get it into people’s hands.

How has your background shaped your work?
It depends how deep you want to go! I come from a single-parent family and was a scholarship girl at a posh boarding school. So I had a lot of experience of ‘the establishment’ and the power structures that dictated what was a ‘proper’ way to do things, including communication.

I rebelled against that, and I’d always loved writing, so it seemed natural to apply it to social justice. After school, I studied social anthropology, which helped me think through what language and content resonates with different people – the fundamental meanings that sit underneath different concepts.

I went freelance very early in my career. That included a decade at The King’s Fund during the noughties, which grounded me in health. Working on policy papers, I became very interested in making content relevant to wide audiences, including people with lived experience but also staff. (I later helped write the NHS People Plan – a strategy aimed at everyone, from porters to directors.)

Other experiences broadened my repertoire too. I learned qualitative research skills at uni, I was a Samaritan, and I’m a qualified coach. So I’ve had lots of training and experience in active listening with people from all walks of life. I’ve also got a kid with very complex, lifelong needs, so I engage with the health and social care system from a user perspective too.

All those experiences mean I’m not scared to go to dark places or tackle difficult topics, which offers another dimension to my work.

What’s the most important principle for you when developing health content?
Empathy. When you’re communicating about health and social change, what you do can tackle inequalities or can reinforce them. Helping your audience engage with your content means understanding and caring about where they are at.

For example, with patient information, I’m a big believer in providing warmth. When you’re in a health crisis, really good health content can make you feel heard, and not alone. Those are really profound things – and they reduce demand for services.

Unfortunately, communications is often seen as a ‘nice to have’, but when you actually look at what it is, it’s about relationships. If you’re serious about tackling health inequalities, that’s pretty important.

What’s the biggest misconception you see in your work?
That you have to know everything about a topic before you can start writing. Research can be a displacement activity – and the more information you have, the more work it is to pull everything together. And then you have the painful work of cutting it all away again afterwards. It’s a vicious cycle.

When I help people develop content, we start from the final product – the design, how many words (or seconds of footage) are needed – and work backwards. That way, you’re cherry-picking the elements you need rather than amassing volumes of research.

Also, it’s important to have sounding board. You need the detail, but also the big picture, and it’s hard to be in both those places at once. Plus, my coaching has confirmed that almost everybody feels like an imposter at some point. That’s where the shame comes in. So it’s good to have some reassurance.

What trends are you noticing in the sector?
The tide has really turned on user voice. About 15 years ago, as a judge for BMA Patient Information awards, you’d see submissions that had no user input at all. Today, it’s a basic requirement. And the Patient Information Forum’s PIF Tick standard (formerly the Information Standard) has specific requirements on engagement, which has had a big influence.

Linked to that is the wider awareness of health literacy and accessibility more broadly. More and more content uses normal language that reflects the way we speak. And if you don’t like reading, you can use video. It’s a breath of fresh air.

So, in some ways, content is being democratised in the way I always wanted to see. But as healthcare becomes increasingly community focused, there’s a growing need to understand the nuance of how to really connect with different groups.

What’s on the horizon for you?
I’m really loving finding new ways to help people and organisations communicate to tackle inequalities. I’m a bit unusual in that I do research, writing, filming and coaching. People say, ‘Are you a production company?’ and I say, ‘No, but we can make a film if that’s the best approach for this project.’

For me, it’s like the difference between using a pen or a pencil. The techniques I use to get there are just tools I can draw on to get to the end result.

For example, at the moment I’m developing a suite of YouTube shorts sharing NIHR research findings, helping an NHS innovation programme shape its first impact report, and coaching a policy lead at NHS England who is writing a high-profile report while navigating anxiety and job insecurity.

The techniques I’m using are different, but the principles are the same. Everything I do is about working in partnership to untangle complex ideas, refine clear objectives and develop a coherent narrative, with the structure and support to execute a plan.

Done well, all of these are transformational. I know I’m on the right path because my work makes me feel alive!

1. Start small. Overwhelm comes from doing too many things at once. For example, if you worry about posting on social media, choose one platform and focus on doing that really well.

2. Find a sounding board. Whatever you’re working on, don’t just be in your own head. Find someone you can trust to be a cheerleader as well as a critical friend.

3. Find what you love. There are a million ways you could approach any creative task, so take the time to work out what you enjoy and perhaps be a little bit playful.

How has your background shaped your work?
I was always interested in how to be healthy at work, and how workplaces are designed to support this. As a child, it perplexed me that my dad, who had a longstanding corporate career, had little support from his organisation to be healthy and well. He worked for that company all his life and it seemed obvious to me that they’d want to look after their employees.

I didn’t want to go to university. After my A levels I qualified as a personal trainer (PT), but after a year, I realised I wanted to expand my mind. So I studied health promotion while running my PT business on the side.

After that, I worked for several wellbeing-related organisations, including the trade body that oversees the fitness industry (now called UKActive) and the Ramblers. I was always looking at improving wellbeing and health promotion but didn’t find quite the right thing until later on.

When did you start focusing on health research?
In 2014 I began a Master’s in organisational psychology so I could learn more about how to improve people’s health at work. In my family, education wasn’t really a ‘thing’ – it was simply a way to get a good job – but I discovered this whole other world. I love to read and learn, and I realised I could do that as a job and still make an impact through my work.

Today, my research concentrates on looking at working conditions, predominantly focusing on the NHS workforce. I work with a team of colleagues in the University of Surrey’s School of Health Sciences, working to improve the health and wellbeing of the healthcare workforce, alongside patient care.

What is the most important principle for you when developing content?
Developing your voice. For me, writing goes hand in hand with research itself – not just in disseminating findings. The writing process happens throughout the entire project, from making notes and collating information to spotting patterns.

Writing is a process of self-discovery. I think it’s important to have two writing outlets: the writing you do for yourself to learn and practise, and the writing you put out into the world. My approach is audience led, so I try to make it accessible while avoiding oversimplifying things.

One of the best things I’ve done is to invest in several different writing courses. It blew my mind to learn how using a formula can make the process so joyful! When I start a writing project now, I visualise the structure, like a funnel, which gives me a broad starting point.

Another important principle is clarity about your strategic aim. In research, we have to focus on this from the start, even to get funding. But people often confuse outputs with outcomes.

We need to measure the ultimate impact of disseminating our findings rather than the content itself. So we might track downloads or ask people to fill in a questionnaire before they download a resource and then follow up with them later to see if the content has inspired any change.

Demonstrating these outcomes is complex, though, especially when you’re looking at health. It can be hard to establish whether your work has resulted in a certain outcome when different outcomes overlap. It also takes time and a plan from the outset.

What trends are you seeing in the field?
There’s a drive now to share findings in a range of ways, including through non-traditional academic outputs. I still write traditional research papers, but equally I write blogs, editorials, long-form reports and toolkits, as well as reporting to stakeholders and running webinars. I’ve also shared interim findings on open science platforms like the OSF.

We’re also embracing formats like animations, short films, infographics and even theatre performances. They’re brilliant for mobilising knowledge, as long as you bring in expert help when it’s needed.

What are the biggest misconceptions you see in your work?
That being an academic automatically means you’re a good writer. Technical training doesn’t necessarily lead to effective storytelling.

Writing well is more than proper grammar and sentence structure – it’s about the narrative and identifying the key messages. That isn’t taught, and there’s a lot to learn from fields like journalism about how to engage readers and keep them hooked.

Practice is essential for learning how to adapt your style for different audiences. And if writing isn’t your strong suit, there’s no shame in that. You can provide the key messages and work with someone who brings the writing skillsets.

What’s on the horizon for you?
I have my first sole-authored editorials going live this month (April 2025) , both related to projects I’m leading or co-leading. ‘Mind the (expectation) gap: the double bind for women GPs’ is in the British Journal of General Practice and ‘Supporting women’s reproductive health at work’ in Case Reports in Women’s Health.

These two pieces bring together ideas from different fields, providing new ways of thinking about longstanding issues. That’s been very exciting.

In the academic world, it’s easy to fear overstating your findings, or being ‘cancelled’ because of your research. There’s a lot of shame and worry that can inhibit people from communicating. But it’s important to find your voice and let that show through your writing.

1. Flex your writing muscles. If you’re feeling restricted, try writing something totally unrelated, as a warm-up exercise.

2. Demonstrate your impact wherever you can. Track downloads of publications and gather readers’ email addresses so you can send follow-up questions.

3. If writing isn’t your thing, that’s okay. It’s good to practise and develop your writing skills, but there’s no shame in asking for experts for help.

What’s your role?
I’m Head of Content at Noom, where I focus on creating the in-app experiences to drive engagement and behaviour change – so, encouraging people to open the app and then to engage in the product so they see outcomes. I also teach on two undergraduate courses for the City University of New York: one on health equity and one on social marketing (better known as public health campaigns).

In both roles, my focus is on developing health content that’s interesting, engaging and motivating – and personalising it to the relevant audience plays a big role in that.

How did you make the switch to health communicator?
I had a traditional journalism background and I’ve been writing and creating content for longer than I care to share! – much of that in health. In 2013, I was hired by a new nonprofit called Understood, working to improve life outcomes for kids with learning disabilities and ADHD. I headed up a content team and built the website and other products.

That was the first time I created content aiming to change knowledge, attitudes and behaviours with no consideration for advertising revenue. For me, it raised a lot of questions, such as how to measure outcomes. That prompted me to study for a Masters in health communication, which allowed me to gain a deep knowledge around topics like behaviour change models and social determinants of health.

How does your background shape your work?
I’ve always been a storyteller. Now, I can combine that with behaviour change and, thanks to my time at Noom, I can layer the health tech piece on top. The combination of those skills has been really helpful.

What’s the most important principle for you when developing health content??
The need to customise content to the audience. If they feel ‘This is how my friends would say it to me,’ that’s a good indicator of success.

But doing that involves audience research, and people often miss this. They want to start creating material so they ignore the steps like research, talking to people, running early concepts past them, and then doing a post-campaign analysis.

It’s understandable – nobody wants to find out that they weren’t successful. But if you gather feedback at the beginning and the middle, you can make sure the project stays on track.

What trends are you seeing in health communication?
I’m interested in how you tell a story and share a message very quickly, on platforms like TikTok and Instagram, using non-traditional means of communication.

These methods are becoming more and more popular – especially if you’re trying to reach people under the age of 30.

What changes are you seeing in US health communications right now?
I feel that at the root of the current state of play is the erosion of trust in science. It’s only just manifesting itself now in political division, but it’s been growing over time.

We’re seeing its impact in practical terms, too. Right now, there is a huge measles outbreak in Western Texas, New Mexico and Oklahoma. A child has died. If we’d been able to communicate better with that community about the importance of vaccination, that life could have been saved.

I do think there’s learning for us in health communication about what has brought us to this place. Scientific research has often been communicated as absolute and final. We’ve neglected to share that we’re consistently learning new things and our understanding may change over time. So people think ‘You told us something before and now you’re saying that was wrong.’

I think Covid 19 was a pretty strong example of that. Here in the US, in March 2020, we were told not to wear masks. Then a month later, it was, ‘You absolutely have to wear masks – they will save your life.’

Similarly, the vaccines were presented as preventing Covid altogether. As we all now know, vaccines don’t prevent you from getting Covid, but they are hugely effective in reducing the severity and preventing hospitalizations and death. But at the time, we didn’t know – and we were afraid to say we didn’t know.

And that contributed to the widespread feeling of ‘I’m not getting the truth,’ which led to lower vaccination rates in this country. People have died as a result.’

We could have communicated this better. One way would be to understand who people trust and will listen to. For many people in this country, government is not the ideal messenger.

The influencers have stepped up to fill that space. We need to learn from their approach to find new ways to communicate health messages better.

What’s on the horizon for you?
I’m increasingly offering thought leadership. Two weeks ago, I was on a panel at SXSW, talking about digital tools and AI in healthcare. These tools can potentially help level the playing field for health equity, but without good communication, they could actually widen the divide.

With such rapid change, there is definitely a sense of fear. Given where things are right now, it’s up to individuals, non-profits and industry to change minds. Because I don’t think that’s a role the US government is going to play in the near future.

Either way, at this pivotal point, we need health communication more than ever. Ultimately, we need to use all our skills to reach individuals and turn the tide.

1. Do your research! Find out who your audience listens to – and get them on board.

2. Be honest. Qualify that ‘so far, we think that…’ rather than stating absolute truths.

3. Remain empathetic. Understand why people are not trusting science, and speak to them in a way that shows you care.

How has your background helped?

I spent 30 years working in the commercial sector – recruitment, outsourcing sales, business development, and marketing complex solutions. I lived in Asia for nearly 20 years and travelled extensively but I returned to the UK in 2018 after my first suicide attempt. Three years later, I had another attempt.

I needed purpose – something to get me out of bed in the morning. I knew there had to be something I could do. What started as a personal project – interviewing people about the mental health sector – grew into something much bigger: Project Soul Stride.

By November 2024, I’d interviewed 185 people, mainly in the UK. Over time, it became less of a project and more of a calling.

How much of your work involves communications?

Today, Project Soul Stride is my primary focus. It allows me to engage with policymakers and senior leaders to help them understand the realities of lived experience. I always remind them that I have been through this – and I want to help other Black men navigate the mental health system.

Importantly, it has opened lots of doors to support other organisations and take part in other lived experience projects.

Last year, I was featured in The Voice Newspaper and appeared in a film for Mind called Finding my way back from depression.

Just last month, I was invited to share my experiences with MPs at the House of Commons. Those insights will contribute to this year’s inquiry into the state of community mental health services for adults with severe mental illnesses – and we’ll be quoted in the final report.
At my lowest point, I could never have imagined using my skills and passion to help drive change in this way.

What’s the most important principle for you when developing content?

Clear communication. I rapidly digest content using AI and translate complex research into accessible insights through blogs and storytelling.

I serve as a conduit between two worlds – the lived experience of a Black man facing mental health challenges and the decision-makers with the power to improve services. This helps bridge the gap between academic theory and real people with mental health challenges.

Many of them will never access research papers or speak directly with researchers, so there’s a huge chasm where information gets lost, leaving people struggling to find the support they need.

What are the biggest misconceptions you see in your work??

That addressing inequality is about creating division rather than fostering inclusion.

I focus on solution-driven conversations rather than conflict. The disparities in mental health treatment between Black and White patients are undeniable. But I try to steer away from weaponising the discussion. Instead, I bring people together to share ideas and find solutions.

Of course, we must acknowledge that systemic racism is part of the wider context, but it’s not where I lead the conversation. The reality is that generational trauma, toxic masculinity, a reluctance to seek help and economic struggles all disproportionately affect Black men. And these challenges must be addressed with cultural competence.

How do you approach health communication?

I research extensively. I maintain a library of over 500 white papers on suicidality and mental health worldwide. Since I can’t read them all in detail, I use AI to distil key insights and make them actionable.

I’m a visual thinker, so I use mind maps to prioritise my ideas and transform them into blogs, articles, and speeches. Over time, I have developed key phrases – like ‘research to influence’ and ‘fostering collective action’ – to articulate complex messages in a way that resonates.

I try to write consistently and carefully consider my tone. I try to be authentic, which seems to appeal to everyone – from academics to MPs.

Talking about suicide was a difficult decision. After my first attempt, I disappeared from life. Friends and colleagues were asking, ‘What happened to Chris?’

One friend encouraged me to write a blog about my experience to update people. I took his advice, and the response was extraordinary.

So many people reached out, saying they appreciated my honesty. Soon, men in my network started sharing their own stories. That gave me the confidence to share my story more widely.

What’s on the horizon for you?

If you’d asked me a year ago whether I could imagine speaking truth to power in the House of Commons, I would have laughed. But 2024 was extraordinary, and 2025 is already following the same trajectory.

At the same time, I live, sleep and work in one room in a shared house. I continue to struggle with chronic loneliness, social isolation, anxiety, depression and suicidal thoughts. Like many, I can’t access the services I need and can’t afford private care.

It’s this dual reality – being recognised for my advocacy while still navigating barriers to care – that drives my commitment to change.

I have a platform and an opportunity to be a role model for other Black men who want to speak up and out about their mental health journeys. One of my goals is to mentor young Black men to become the next generation of mental health advocates.

I don’t know exactly where this path will lead, but speaking in Parliament is all the proof I need that I need to keep going.

1. Be authentic. Don’t be afraid to share your personal story – it can add real value.

2. Simplify your process. Use technology and visual tools to break down complex information.

3. Adopt an ‘insight to influence’ approach. Always think about how you can use any information to create positive change.