In this paper we reflect on the use of fictional source material and fictional formats in organization studies in order to explore issues of responsibility in the writing of research. We start by examining how research using fictional narrative methods has worked to radically destabilise distinctions between what is real and what is fictional. In relation to this we ask the question: if a research account can be regarded as fiction, what are the implications of this insight for the responsibilities of authors? Opposing the view that using fiction necessarily leads to an 'anything goes' relativism, we argue that a recognition of the fictionality of research texts implies a heightened sense of researcher-author responsibility. We see our main contribution as extending existing discussions of reflexivity in research into a consideration of issues of ethics and responsibility as it relates to the textuality of research writing. To do so we draw on Derrida's theorisation of responsibility and undecidability as a way of problematising and discussing the ethics of research in relation to its textuality. We argue that the explicit borrowing from fictional genres evinces the essentially 'written' and fictional status of research papers, and highlights the ethical dimensions associated with decisions related to representational strategies and authorial subjectivity. 'The perfect description of Thomas industries,' Mike exclaimed. 'We help lay the traps. We punch out, but don't stop working. It shows on our faces. Our minds are crippled!' Charlie and Randy nodded. 'The noise from the control room, that damn Thomas industries sign, the gyp mountain, smokestacks… every night this mess is with me before I go to sleep.' Charlie and Randy were silent. They arrived just in time to punch in before the 7 o'clock whistle. 'Goddamn whistles,' Mike grumbled. 'Remind me of grade school.' (Jermier 1985: 71-72) There were 40 or 50 different routes, maybe more, each case was different, you were never able to learn any of them, you had to get your mail up and ready before 8 a.m. for the truck despatches, and Jonstone would take no excuses. The subs routed their magazines on corners, went without lunch, and died in the streets. Johnstone would have us start casing the routes 30 minutes late-spinning in his chair in his red shirt-'Chinaski take route 539!' We'd start a halfhour short but were still expected to get the mail up and out and be back on time. And once or twice a week, already beaten, fagged and fucked we had to make the night pickups, and the schedule on the board was impossible-the truck wouldn't go that fast.