Hi, Junebug.
Years ago I hired a public speaking coach to help me improve my on-stage presence.
Yikes that sentence is lifeless. Let's try it again, mmkay?
Years ago I hired a public speaking coach to help me keep my heart rate in a normal range instead of flitting close to a cardiac episode every time I stepped on stage.
Nerves are part of public speaking. The trick, I learned, is to use them to your advantage.
Your heart rate increases and your breathing comes more quickly because you care so very, very much.
So that near-cardio episode isn't because you're terrified; it's because you're fired up and raring to go.
Viewing your perceived weaknesses as strengths. The reframing helped me enormously.
That alone was worth the big fat check I wrote the coach.
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There were other lessons, too.
I found my scribbled notes of them in my office this week—under that growing pile of papers that seemed to be reproducing like the garden rabbits. (Bun's kids and grandkids and great-greats! I've lost track of the generations.)
These lessons are ostensibly public-speaking performance lessons. But they can moonlight for other situations, too: Any time you're called on to do a presentation to your team. A pitch to a client. A TED-style talk. A virtual breakout session. A workshop. An Instagram Story. A LinkedIn Live.
They're also a good refresher for How to Speak In Person as the world opens back up again.
So here we go:
Public Speaking Lessons for the Introverts, the Inexperienced, the Pathologically Shy, and the Rusty in Need of a Refresh
Create interplay. Learn the first names of a few people in your audience. Use those names on stage. Ask questions of your audience. Poll the people in the room.
Seek team support. Plant someone supportive in the back of the room. Draft an encouraging friend, an empathetic colleague. Direct them to nod like a Mookie Betts bobblehead throughout your talk.
>> This tactic worked beautifully for me when I was first starting out. Modern audiences tend to be glued to their devices, even if they're loving your talk. That can be unnerving for new speakers.
Pause. Force yourself to pause a second or two between sentences. Don't rush through your points. Don't clip your own sentences so you can start your next point. That puts you (and your audience) on edge.
>> That second or two of silence will fill the room with calming oxygen, like a CO2 bar in Vegas.
Flit your eyes to and from 5-6 people seated in different parts of the room. Unlike your Planted Friend above, these are people you don't know. But identifying them once you're on stage helps remind you to speak in turn to the entire room, not just the people in front.
>> You'll need to do this intentionally at first. But it'll quickly become second nature.
Keep your slides simple. Don't allow your PowerPoint to steal the show.
Practice your talk with a loving spouse or compliant child, or before the loving gaze of your pandemic puppy. I suggest family here because you need someone who isn't too close to the material—a colleague isn't the best choice. Actually, neither is the dog. Too much love is sometimes too much.
>> Ten years ago, I practiced my first solo talk on my then 14-year-old daughter, Caroline. After I finished, she said: "I'm excited to go create some content!" Find yourself a Caroline.
"Please hold questions to the end" is a big fat Triple-Scoop Nopecone. What your audience will hear: "What I have to say is more important than what you want to know."
You don't need to have all the answers. It's preferable to say, "I don't know. I will get back to you on that" vs. BS-ing an answer to a question that has that telltale slick veneer of absolute horse poop.
Remember that questions are about dialogue. Buy yourself time to answer a question by asking,
"What do you mean by..." Sometimes you need a minute or two to consider an answer. (There's nothing worse than suffering
esprit de
l'escalier.)
Try this Q&A power move. Cap your answer to a question by addressing the asker again: "Did I answer that question for you?" You're signaling that you're okay with their saying, "Not really." It's a confident move.
What else would you add? Hit reply and I'll share your best tips in future issues.
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Everybody Writes Writing Tip of the Fortnight
Write four drafts to everything:
1. The Ugly First Draft. Barf it up! Get it out!
2. The chainsaw edit. Move the big chunks around on dollies and hand-trucks. Is it starting to take shape?
3. Surgical-tool edit. Finer editing. Each word must earn its keep.
4. Read it out loud. Does it sound like writing? If so, revisit #3. Repeat.
I do this whether I'm writing a book or an Instagram post. (Not kidding.)
I shared this tip (and more—including my biggest professional failure—with the fantastic copywriter Eddie Shleyner.
Full interview here.
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QUICKIES
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