Dr Leigh Beveridge has built a career around one simple idea. Curiosity is a skill you can scale.
He grew up in Australia in a home that valued learning and careful thinking. One parent worked in education. The other worked in a technical role. That mix taught him to ask questions and pay attention to detail.
Leigh moved quickly through school. He completed an accelerated learning program at Wheelers Hill Secondary College, then studied biomedical science at Monash University and earned Dean’s Honour Roll recognition. At the University of Tasmania, he finished his MBBS with awards for Clinical Excellence, Internal Medicine and Psychiatry, along with a research scholarship.
Instead of stopping there, he added new layers. He completed a Master of Medicine and an Advanced Master of Medicine in Pharmaceutical and Medical Device Development at the University of Sydney. Later, he earned an MBA from the University of California, Davis, and joined the Beta Gamma Sigma honour society.
On the career side, Leigh trained and practised in internal medicine and haematology before moving into biotech. He has led late stage clinical development programmes in haematology and immunology at Servier and Genentech, focusing on rare blood disorders and acute lymphoblastic leukaemia. His work links science, regulation and strategy.
Leigh also teaches in the UC Davis Online MBA programme, helping students build clear thinking and communication skills. He volunteers with health and community organisations and mentors people who want to move into biotech.
His path shows that success in life and business can grow from a long-term habit of learning, service and disciplined curiosity.
When you think about success, what comes to mind first?
Success for me is alignment. It is when my values, my skills and the problems I work on all point in the same direction. I have moved through academic medicine, hospital practice, biotech and now business education. The roles have shifted, but the thread is the same. I want to work on hard problems in haematology, oncology and immunology, with people who care about evidence and about patients. When those pieces line up, I feel successful, even before an approval or a big milestone.
I also see success as something cumulative. It is not one big moment. It is a long series of decisions, conversations and course corrections that either move you closer to that alignment or further away from it.
What early experiences shaped that view of success?
Growing up in Australia, I was lucky to be in a home where curiosity was normal. One parent worked in education. The other was in a technical field. That meant questions were encouraged, but so was rigour. If I asked why something worked, the follow up was often, “Show me how you know.”
At school I went through an accelerated learning programme at Wheelers Hill Secondary College. I did science and writing competitions, and I never really separated the two. I liked biology experiments and I also liked thinking about how people told stories about science. Later, at Monash University and the University of Tasmania, the Dean’s Honour Roll and clinical awards were nice markers. But they felt more like feedback that the habits were working, rather than the goal in themselves.
Those experiences taught me that success sits in the process: structured curiosity, attention to detail, and the willingness to keep learning.
How did moving from clinical medicine into biotech and then adding an MBA change your idea of success?
Training and practising in internal medicine and haematology gave me a very direct view of illness. You see how limited options can be for some blood disorders. That made me interested in the upstream question. How do these treatments get designed, tested and delivered in the first place.
When I moved into drug development roles at Servier and Genentech, success started to include a systems view. It was not just about one patient in front of you. It was about the integrity of a global trial, the strength of a data package, and the way cross functional teams worked together. Leading programmes in rare blood disorders and acute lymphoblastic leukaemia required that shift.
The MBA at UC Davis widened the frame again. It pushed me to think about incentives, organisational behaviour and long term strategy. Success began to include teaching and mentoring, not just running trials. Now, as a Graduate Teaching Assistant in the MBA programme, guiding students in articulation and critical thinking feels just as important as a neat haematology result.
Was there a setback or inflection point that changed how you pursue success?
One turning point came early in my transition out of full time clinical work. I remember looking at my calendar one month and realising most of my time was spent in meetings that did not connect clearly to patient outcomes or to my own learning. I was busy, but not effective.
I sat down with a very simple exercise. I wrote out the activities that consistently gave me energy and impact. Things like designing parts of a protocol, mentoring a junior colleague through a career decision, or working on diversity in research. Then I wrote a second list of tasks that I would not miss if they disappeared. Over the next year, I quietly shifted my commitments toward the first list.
That process taught me that success is not just about saying yes to good opportunities. It is also about saying no, or reshaping roles, so that your time lines up with where you can actually contribute.
How do you define success in drug development, where timelines are long and uncertainty is high?
In clinical development, you cannot tie your sense of success only to approvals. There are too many variables that sit outside any one person’s control. For me, there are three anchors.
First, the quality of the questions. Are we asking things in our trials that truly matter to patients and clinicians. Second, the integrity of the evidence. That means good study design, disciplined execution and honest interpretation, even when the data are messy. Third, the way we run the teams. A programme that protects psychological safety, values diverse perspectives and still moves with discipline is a success, regardless of the final label.
Of course, seeing a therapy reach people with rare disorders is a clear outcome. But I try to measure success at each stage, not only at the end.
You spend time on mentoring and inclusion. How do those connect to your idea of success?
I have seen talented people, especially from LGBTQ+ communities and other under-represented groups, assume that biotech leadership is not for them. That is a loss for science and a loss for patients. My involvement in diversity initiatives at Genentech, and in community roles with organisations like JOYFM, Lifeline Australia and the San Francisco AIDS Foundation, reinforced that view.
Success, to me, now includes who gets to participate in the work. Mentoring early career physicians and scientists who want to move into industry is part of that. So is supporting inclusive research design, where the trial population reflects the communities that will use the therapy.
If we advance the science but leave out large groups of people, I do not consider that full success.
What practical advice do you give someone at the start of their own success path?
I usually suggest three things.
First, treat curiosity like a discipline, not a mood. Read widely, ask better questions and keep a small notebook of problems that interest you. Many of my career shifts began as notes like that.
Second, build range on purpose. My own path through medicine, pharmaceutical development and an MBA was not linear, but it was deliberate. The mix now lets me operate at the intersection of science, strategy and communication.
Third, test your definition of success in real life. Spend a few weeks tracking what actually gives you energy and impact in your current role. Then adjust one small thing at a time. Success tends to follow those small, consistent adjustments more than any single dramatic move.