About Emma Weber

Innovation isn't about following trends—it's about seeing what's necessary before it becomes obvious.

In 2017, I created one of the world's first AI coaches, long before artificial intelligence became mainstream in the learning space.

For over 22 years, I've been pioneering learning transfer methodologies, refusing to accept the gap between what people learn and what they actually do differently. This drive to innovate has shaped every aspect of my work—from the products I create to the way I challenge conventional thinking about behaviour change.

Innovation isn't a department or a strategy; it's a refusal to settle for what already exists when something better is possible.

At 30, I made a bold experiment.

Fresh from a transformative training programme, I bought a one-way ticket to Australia and gave myself one year—twelve months to create the beginnings of a new business, or return to the UK knowing the experiment had failed.

Twenty-three years later, I'm still here. That willingness to experiment, to test ideas in the real world, to risk being spectacularly wrong for the possibility of breakthrough—it's become the foundation of everything I do.

The best experiments aren't about guaranteed outcomes; they're about courageous curiosity and the willingness to put skin in the game.

In a world that celebrates speed, I've learned the power of slowing down.

Real strategy isn't about doing more, faster—it's about creating clarity on what truly matters and then executing with precision. My ability to step back, reflect deeply, and design strategies for optimising human performance has enabled individuals and organisations to achieve results they didn't think possible.

The executives and organisations I work with don't need more information; they need the courage to pause and ask what actually moves the needle.

Strategy emerges in the space between reaction and response, in the disciplined pause where clarity lives.

I arrived in Australia knowing three people. No network, no safety net—just ideas and determination.

From that blank canvas, I built a thriving business, developed products and services that have impacted thousands, and created one of the world's first AI coaches.

But creation isn't just about the big moments—it's a daily practice of showing up to the blank page, the impossible problem, and asking: what wants to emerge here?

Every creation expands what you believe is possible. Every new offering stretches your thinking. The power goes beyond the outcome; it's in the act of bringing something into existence that wasn't there before.

Here's what most people get wrong about coaching: it's not about advice. It's not about fixing. It's about creating the conditions for someone to access their own wisdom and then actually do something different.

As one of the Southern Hemisphere's top coaches, I've spent decades mastering the art of sustained behaviour change—not the temporary high of a good training session, but the hard work of transformation that sticks. I created the "Turning Learning Into Action" methodology because I was tired of watching brilliant insights evaporate the moment people returned to their desks.

The organisation I founded delivered over 24,000 human coaching sessions across 12 languages and 16 countries, under my leadership and then amplified that impact with AI.

The magic isn't in having answers. It's in asking the question that changes everything.

Mentoring is how wisdom compounds, how you multiply your impact beyond what you can do alone.

I've mentored coaches across the globe, enabling them to deliver exceptional results for corporate clients and transform training investments into measurable performance gains.

But mentoring isn't just about teaching techniques—it's about passing on the hard-won lessons from two decades of getting it wrong before getting it right, showing people the shortcuts and the traps no one else will tell them about. Your story—your actual lived experience, failures included—is often the most powerful curriculum you possess.

A keynote isn't just a presentation—it's a moment to collectively explore bigger possibilities.

I've stood on stages from Singapore to San Diego, delivering sessions that shift how people think about learning, performance, and change.

As a repeat presenter at the Association of Talent Development Conference—where 10,000+ delegates gather annually—I've learned that the power isn't in what you say. It's in what you make people feel brave enough to do next.

Speaking is where ideas come alive, where you take concepts trapped in our head and they become action in someone else's world.

The power isn't in what you say; it's in what you make people feel brave enough to do next. The best talks give people language for something they felt but couldn't articulate. They permission them to try what they've been too afraid to attempt.

Writing is thinking made visible. It's how you take messy, half-formed insights and forge them into something solid, shareable, something that outlives the moment.

My first book, "Turning Learning into Action: A proven methodology for effective transfer of learning," was published by Kogan Page in 2014. Since then, my work has been featured in academic textbooks in South Africa, the Association of Talent Development Guide Book and Measurement and Evaluation Handbook, and my case studies have appeared in publications around the world.

Writing allows me to codify what I've learned, to share it beyond the moment, and to contribute to the collective wisdom of our profession.

When I moved to Australia, consumed by building a business and finding the love of my life, I realised everything had purpose, everything had stakes. I could feel myself disappearing into productivity.

So I joined the Purple Moon Choir on Sydney's Northern Beaches and remembered what it means to do something for absolutely no reason except fun. No ROI, no performance metrics—just the voice and sheer pleasure of hearing people singe together.

Singing is my rebellion against the tyranny of usefulness. It's where I go to remember that being human isn't about optimising—it's about experiencing.

The moments that feed your soul rarely make it onto your resume. Do them anyway.

As we enter an era of unprecedented technological change, being human is becoming both more challenging and more essential.

AI will rewrite work, relationships, and creativity itself.

And in the middle of this transformation, the most valuable skill won't be technical prowess—it will be the courageous, messy, magnificent act of being fully human. Not the sanitised professional version, but the whole version—vulnerable, empathetic, connected, real.

I've spent my career at the intersection of human potential and technological possibility, and I'm convinced: the future belongs to those who can harness innovation while remaining deeply, authentically human.

Embodying our humanity isn't a soft skill—it's the core skill that will determine our effectiveness, our fulfilment, and our legacy.