Madeleine Albright shows off her Wellesley Blue sneakers "Be yourself."
You have heard it before. Everyone has said it--from your mother sending you out the door on your first day of school, to your BFF giving you a pep talk before that big job interview. But when this advice comes from Madeleine Albright, you somehow hear it in a new way. And it doesn't seem trite at all.
I was at Wellesley for my college reunion, and Madeleine (Class of '59) was speaking in conjunction with the opening of Read My Pins, an exhibit at the Davis Art Museum. She shared fascinating stories of how her pins were used to convey diplomatic messages. Then the floor was opened up for questions. A few were about how best to be a woman leader in a world where the double standard is still applied. Her response? "It is annoying when men do that, but that's just the way it is. Be confident in what you are doing, and don't take such criticism personally." She continued by explaining that the best way to lead is to be yourself. In a leadership role you need to know your strengths and play to them. Trust your instincts and your homework. Do not feel the need to become someone else's idea of what a leader should be.
I would extrapolate even further (to summarize what I have read in other books on women's leadership): that you are a leader because you are a leader. No need to second-guess. Be bold. Be confident! I was lucky to see many examples this weekend of classmates who were the embodiment of just that kind of leadership. They we enjoying themselves immensely, being themselves.
And then I came home and tuned in to the Tony Awards. I love watching stars, directors, playwrights, and others who create stage magic on Broadway honor their peers and celebrate their community. For me the surprise of the evening came when the stunningly talented Audra McDonald, overcome with emotion at winning her record-breaking sixth Tony, cried throughout her acceptance speech. McDonald's professional success depends on her self-knowledge and self-possession, yet she felt free to be undeniably herself.
In moments of heightened emotion (or heightened stress) we can give ourselves this gift. If we do not stand outside ourselves, worrying about how others will judge us, we can act on what our preparation and our inner guide tell us we must do. Great leaders know that being authentic, even when it means being vulnerable, is a mark of strength. Great actors do, too!
A speech that stuck
Now that it's June we can all breathe a sigh of relief. We begin an 11-month respite from snarky commentary about Commencement speakers and their speeches, from newspaper columns and blog posts that say, "no one remembers their Commencement speaker, let alone the speech." To those of us who study best speech practices and train others to speak, those comments sound like sour grapes (from people who were not invited to speak) or laziness (from those who were but do not want to put in the time to fully prepare).
I remember the speech delivered at my own Commencement very well--and it was a long time ago! But that is probably because it was written by one of the smartest women ever to put two words together, delivered with an energy that held us spellbound. I was lucky enough to be addressed at my graduation from Wellesley College by our illustrious alumna Nora Ephron. She had a very clear message to us graduates: "Be fearless. Don't waste your time being nice. And don't be a lady!" I seem to recall a collective gasp from the parents seated behind us when she made this last point, but I recall (though perhaps imperfectly) that my classmates and I burst into applause.
I am not going to tell you here how this "advice to the graduates" shaped my life. I use it simply to illustrate that people do actually remember their Commencement speeches. Even decades later.
Nine days ago my family and I attended the graduation of our daughter from Bowdoin College. We heard many speeches over the course of graduation weekend. A few of them were memorable. But there was one that was universally lauded; it meant something to everyone who heard it, from grandparents to younger siblings. "Failure in Perspective" was given by a member of the Class of 2014, Kate Kearns. If you want to view this excellent speech you can find it here.
Kate's message of learning from failure is not that unusual. We hear it everywhere these days. In start-up circles the mantra "fail fast" seems to be on everyone's lips. But Kate is not invoking this as a "success strategy." She reaches deeper than that. By involving us in the story of her personal journey to embrace the lessons of failure, Kate touches on our fundamental reluctance to admit to anything less than success. But we must fail, if we are to grow and keep growing. So Kate turns the glib mantra into deeply held article of faith. Everyone I spoke to after the ceremony felt they could relate to the story Kate shared. She was vulnerable, honest and funny. As a listener you believed and trusted her. And took her words to heart.
When I advise my clients on content development, I tell them they need to include the element of story in their speeches if they want them to "stick." Of all the speeches that weekend, the one that stuck with us most did not just incorporate story, it grew organically from that story. A personal story that was also universal.
Nora would have approved.
To share or not to share?
How much is too much?
That's a question I get asked a lot by young job interviewers or recent grads. But it is worth a thought for seasoned professionals, as well. In a time when we all know that interviewers are strictly limited in the scope of their questioning, it seems fairly to normal to wonder if sharing even a bit of personal information might be a bit dangerous.
Nope. It's not. And here's why:
1) People hire people, not their resumes.
Have the courtesy to assume your interviewer has read yours before you meet. Don't answer questions by ticking off the same bullet points, no matter how appropriate that response seems to you. Instead, share stories. Use a simple beginning-middle-end narrative structure. Use short sentences and active verbs. Share examples that illustrate what you learned, give specifics to bolster your credibility. The person across the desk from you will appreciate that you are trying to reach out and communicate like a human being, not an animated fact-sheet.
2) People hire people they remember.
There is a section of every interview where the interviewer tries to find out more about your non-business pursuits. Sometimes it is the dreaded "So, tell me about yourself" request or its cutesy variant "What makes Beth Beth?" But often the questions designed to find out more about who you are involve your favorite music/book/author, hobbies, or recreational pursuits. Often people are reluctant to answer these honestly, fearing that they "will be judged" by their answers.
Don't worry about that. People will judge you! It is an interview, after all, you are there to be judged.
Answer honestly, and they will see a side of you not covered by your resume. A glimpse of the "whole you." As you prep for the interview, consider the question: "What makes me memorable?" As long as you do not include details from your lovelife, health history, religious beliefs or political affiliation, you can share that nugget of you. Find a way to work it into the interview. Your questioner will remember you as a real person who has a life outside of work. And there is a good chance you will score bonus point with the answer. An interview can end successfully with the discussion of a mutually admired author. Or it can result in a job offer if the manager needs someone fearless--and you are a weekend sky-diver! In a pool of qualified applicants, it is these things that make you stand out. That are remembered.
People hire people. Don't get so wrapped up in your resume you forget to be one.
Sound perceptions
I have long said this, but seeing it on National Public Radio's website makes it official: "Humans make split-second judgments about others based on the way they talk." That's the caption to this illustration, which accompanies an NPR story (cleverly headlined "You Had Me at Hello") about the science behind this claim. The story reports on a study done by psychologist Phil McAleer and colleagues at the University of Glasgow. And what did this study find? The first sounds out of your mouth make an immediate, indelible impression.
I hope you go to the link and listen to the story for yourself. When I heard it Monday morning I experienced that wonderful sense of affirmation that comes when Science confirms something you already know to be true.
But any actor will tell you that voice can convey more about character than looks, posture, dress, etc. I pass this on to my clients, telling them they can speak however they like in private, but in public they need to work to make sure their voices project the desired personae. From the get-go. So now I have more evidence to share with people who would rather ignore their voices, feel doing a warm-up is unnecessary and silly, or truly believe it's OK to "wing it": because you never have a second chance to make a first impression!
Weaponize your voice
Use your voice as your secret weapon. That's the advice I give my clients. And if you have ever had the experience of feeling like your words were going nowhere, that you were speaking into a void, that you just were never going to be heard, such a strategy is something you should consider.
Many experts, coaches, and consultants (myself included) will tell you that judgments about you hinge as much on how you sound as how you look. That sounding like a leader is every bit as important as looking like one (see Romney, Willard Mitt). But most people will concentrate on crafting their content, their position statements, their speeches or talking points, and not think twice about what their tone conveys. About what they sound like, and what that signifies to the listener. Unless you are trying to overcome the handicap of not fitting the traditional leadership image (see Clinton, Hillary Rodham) the tone of your voice might remain a subtle, subconscious influencer.
But it shouldn't, because its power cannot be discounted. The "power of voice" is a phrase I have heard at many meetings, conferences, symposia. In this phrase "voice" is used metaphorically, in the context of motivation. "Reclaiming their voice" is shorthand for empowering women or members of minorities to stand up and speak out.
I use the phrase, "unleash the power of your voice" with my clients in a much more direct way: use your rich, fully-realized sound to connect with anyone and everyone in your space. When your "instrument" (your breathe, voice, resonators) is working efficiently and well, it sends your sound vibrations out to the farthest corners of the room. You reach everyone. And touch them--literally--with those waves of sound. The more overtones and undertones you have (think of a rich chord played on the organ), the more your sound touches people.
If you are a fan of live music of any kind you already now this. Why would we rather hear our favorite musicians play at a live event? On recordings they are closer to perfection than in their performances. But the cost of that mediated perfection is the immediacy of sharing the space with the musicians, of sharing their energy, of feeling their vibrations run through us in a thrilling physical sensation.
I saw a brilliant illustration of this recently on Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyessy. In the April 6th episode, "Hiding in the Light," host and astrophysicst Neil deGrasse Tyson explains the spectral code of light, juxtaposing the way light waves travel with the way sounds waves do. We listen to the great organ in Benedikbeuern Abbey play "O Fortuna" from Carmina Burana as we watch visible sound waves pulse and expand throughout the space.
That is what your voice can do, if you learn to "play" it. Your sound waves, your voice, your message can reach out and touch each and every one of your listeners. When your sound grabs them that way, people will listen!
I'm no marathoner. Or am I?
I live-streamed the Boston Marathon for a bit late yesterday morning. I wanted to recapture the excitement of the Wellesley College Scream Tunnel at mile 13 of the race. The 118th Boston Marathon started earlier than I recalled; when I cheered for those first runners coming down Route 135 it was definitely not before noon! So I tuned in too late to see coverage of the Scream Tunnel. But I did catch the last five miles of the elite first heat of women. I saw Rita Jeptoo make her move and break away from the others, and saw the joy in her face when she crossed the finish line. But the final miles of the men's race were really exciting: I tensed as Meb Keflezigh's race-long lead diminished, then cheered as it widened again. I watched in amazement as he almost sprinted has way up Boylston Street to an astonishing victory. It was an incredible day for Boston, for athletes, and for those of us who watched. As Nicholas Thompson blogged atThe New Yorker, these two top-finishers demonstrated very different ways to win a race.
I am not a marathoner, and have never, ever had that urge. I used to go for short runs, and may do so again, but the endurance test of a long-distance run is something I can't imagine doing. I am in awe of those athletes who do it, who can keep up the pace for 26.2 miles. And particularly someone like Meb who was no longer ranked at the tippy-top, who had lost his Nike sponsorship and who was thought to be over the hill, a has-been, at 38.
So I thought I had little in common with Meb, Rita, and my husband's classmate Joanie Benoit Samuleson. But this morning I was on a call with Belinda Pruyne, business coach extraordinaire at Business Innovation Group. And Belinda said, "the people who find success are those who go the extra mile, who aren't afraid to do the work needed to separate themselves from the pack." Belinda has a lot of good advice for how to separate yourself, beginning with knowing and acting upon your non-negotiable core values.
Now, as you may know, I do a few different things in my work world, and I do them in a pretty unique way. I like to think of my approach as "muscular creativity"--making connections others don't/can't/won't see. And working at it; putting in the time to tease things out and put them back together. Working to help others communicate more effectively. Applying those same techniques to get my message across. So maybe I do have more in common with those runners than I thought. Maybe I am a marathoner, metaphorically, and don't even know it. Maybe you are, too!
Weaving the safety net of trust
Walking the tightrope without a net. That's what it feels like for so many of us who work alone or in small businesses. There is just so much we have to do before we can settle down to getting the job done. We need to pitch, present, propose, negotiate. Finally, when we succeed at these, we get to do what we actually love. It is "the thing itself" that interests us. And our vision of it is strong enough keep pushing us along that tightrope.
But we will never make that vision a reality if we can't communicate.
As you doubtless already know, the first step on the journey toward successful communication is listening to what prospective clients want. Completely. Give them your undivided attention. But don't forget the next step: tell them what you understood them to say. This eliminates initial misunderstandings that could set you off on the wrong path. And from a relationship-building standpoint, this step is crucial. People need to be heard. If they are considering hiring you, they want to know that you will listen to what they are telling you. And to be sure that what you heard is actually what they said.
So you have heard what they want. Good. But what happens when your expertise tells you that what they want isn't really what they need? This can be tricky, but again, you have to articulate what it is they have told you, then share how your solution will solve the problem. It may be a slightly different way than they had expected, but if you approach it as a joint effort, rather than telegraphing "I am the expert so I know better," you will get down to work much sooner. This is something like the "pivot" tactic used in political communication. And this technique is known in improv world as "yes . . . and" (as opposed to "no . . . but," a counter-productive blocking tactic). Even if you absolutely know from the start that what the clients want will never solve their problem, you need to hear them out. Your willingness (or lack thereof) to engage on this level will tell them a lot about how you will communicate going forward.
In our wildest dreams we will all be as successful as (insert name of favorite industry leader here). Then we will be given free rein. But until that time we must ask our clients to trust us, to have faith that ultimately we will give them what they really need. So we have to work to establish a bond of trust. And hold onto it. Trust is never a given. It is a gift, an important connection that we need to reinforce with every interaction. It is our safety net. So never, ever stop listening!
It isn't rocket science
Well, maybe it is. Or perhaps it's brain surgery you are trying to explain. But no matter how complex the information, if you want your message to be understood (by listeners other than your lab partners or co-authors), you need to explain it to them in words they will understand. You need to define your terms, even for other scientists.
Luckily, there are people who can teach you how to do that. You will find some of them at the
Alan Alda Center for Communicating Science
at Stony Brook University, where they offer a curriculum using improvisation and other communications techniques drawn from actor-training and journalism. And the lessons there are very real: one of the Center's programs is the global
the goal of which is explaining science to an 11-year old. A practical exercise for scientists to routinely undertake.
As you may have read in my latest
I am increasingly concerned that researchers and experts of all types are failing to communicate big, complex ideas to the public, just at a time when the public
really needs this information
. An expert who has a great story to share needs to reach out and meet listeners halfway, not just speak in jargon and insider-language, and "hope" the audience will get it.
Facts can't really speak for themselves
s excellent 2012 novel
revolves around a huge, untold story that is hiding in plain sight. The novel's central tension is between Dellarobia, a resident of a small, rural town experiencing "global climate wierding" and Ovid, the scientist who arrives to research one of its showiest consequences. Ovid balks at trying to explain the causes and consequences of climate change, so Dellarobia becomes his
de facto
spokesperson. She must communicate news no one wants to hear. And she is determined to get things right, working hard to understand what is really going on so she can clearly relay the message.
That is what happens in this novel. But in real life, teachable spokespeople do not often just happen along when you need them. However, real life offers what the novel does not. If you are a scientist, a researcher, or an expert whose arguments are based in data and statistics, you are in luck! Places like the Alan Alda Center and independant
like me are available to help you tell your story to a larger audience. Facts, by themselves, speak only to those who know their language. If you want others to understand them, you need to learn to be their translators.
Expertise or Expert-ese?
Last week I went to the Dirksen Senate Office Building to attend a briefing, which is not a thing I typically do. But there was a bill under discussion that I am particularly interested in. And the panelists included activists and advocates, some of whom I had heard speak before, and others I knew by reputation. I was pretty sure it would be a lively--and provocative--gathering.
The panelists spoke about strategies for getting the word out about this legislation and for helping the Senate and House co-sponsors get more support, as well as why this particular piece of legislation really needed to be passed soon--like yesterday! There was a palpable excitement, an electricity that permeated the room as they delivered their prepared remarks with conviction and purpose.
They knew their audience, and they spoke their language. Except the economist. She was there to make the economic case for passing this bill, and had provided a series of graphs in the briefing packet. Her presentation consisted of going through each of them and . . . well, just reading the data. Thud. The room deflated, like a balloon that had suddenly lost its air. OK, I thought, maybe she is kind of economist that does research and presents data without drawing conclusions. In a disciplined, matter-of-fact way. But why would you include someone like that on your panel when every minute counts? In those situations, it is best to seek out speakers who maximize their time supporting the message and engaging the audience.
In the follow-up Q & A period some other experts were on hand in the audience. Representatives from the Congressional Research Service (CRS) got up to share their analysis of the issues addressed by the bill. CRS is a really cool branch of Library of Congress that does all sorts of research for members of Congress to help with the legislative process. I wish I could say their presentation was all very interesting, but it was not. I could feel the eyes glazing over, the heads nodding. Phones all around the room were suddenly being checked. I am sure the CRS experts' findings were extremely important, and would have been helpful to all of us trying advance this bill. But we couldn't follow them! It felt like that time I walked into English 355 by mistake Freshman year, and heard all sorts of undoubtedly English language words used in combinations I could not make sense of. Not knowing the context, I was lost. Some people call this "insider language." Others call it "jargon." Whatever you call it, it is bound to frustrate people if they can't understand. Even (or maybe, especially) people who are already on your side.
Organizers of panels everywhere need to ask themselves, are the experts I am using more likely to confuse my audience than not? Are they there to obfuscate or clarify? If I want them to clarify, it is imperative I make sure they do. I must remind them to forgo "expert-ese" and speak the common language.
When "Those Who Should Know Better" don't
In my communications consulting practice, I meet a lot of leaders. They often ask me to work with their junior staff--to make sure they have the requisite skills for their jobs. And sometimes when I do work with the junior staff, they tell me that the Big Bosses are the ones who really need my help. Alas, those leaders are not likely to seek it, even if it is crystal clear to others that many institutional problems could be solved if they improved their communication.
On my more charitable days I attribute this to the packed schedule that comes with the territory. Maybe these leaders do not have enough time to invest in polishing their skills; they are busy taking care of everything and everyone else. But quite possibly the reality is harsher: they are on top, so they do not worry about improving. After all, they have achieved career success with the skills they have, so why change now?
The fact is, if you are a leader, you are the public face of the organization. And as you ascend the leadership ladder, you wear that face more and more. The speaking and presenting skills you used when you spoke to fellow managers at the annual regional conference are not the ones you need when you are presenting on a larger stage. Crisis communications experts are called in when there are specific fires to put out, disasters to avert, etc. But learning how to be keep improving day-to-day communications? Listening to support staff as well as board members? Presenting a clear vision to other stake-holders? Speaking confidently and honestly to the media? These skills fall through the cracks. Whether it is because no one will tell the leader she/he needs to work on them, or because of the leader's insecurity (or ego!), they are not prioritized. That's a mistake.
For awhile now I have collected video clips of Speeches Gone Bad to share with my public speaking students. I use these as examples of what not to do. Most of these have appeared on YouTube. They are speeches made by people in the public eye--celebrities, politicians, etc. Now I know (you do, too) that there are leaders in business, law, finance, academia, etc., who make these same sorts of speeches. Who damage their own "brand" (and that of the entities they are leading) because they are poor communicators. I would be happy to share those videos, if I did not fear the lawsuits that would result. So, we will have to make do with clips of public figures.
I will be posting some of my favorites on my website.
The first is Michael Bey's famous meltdown at the Consumer Electronics Show in January. Come back and visit this page often. Share it with your friends and colleagues, even your bosses. If they see the gaffes even Those Who Should Know Better make, maybe they will be more willing to seek out expert help. And just for fun--some weeks I will post examples of Speeches Well Done: presentations any coach would be proud of!
Learning when you least expect it
As regular readers of this blog know, when I am not professionally engaged coaching clients to be better speakers and more authentic leaders, I am busily immersed in my other professional world--theatre. I teach acting, and I direct, write, and produce plays. And so when I engage in popular entertainment it is with a critical eye. Often, I am rewarded by seeing artistically sound, even transcendent, performances, like those in films nominated for this year's crop of awards. I blogged about some of these earlier in the year.
I enjoy watching good television. My favorite TV drama, "The Good Wife," was on last night. I love this series because it has several leading female characters and features a strong woman at the center of the story--a woman who is successful, conflicted, experiences self-doubt, a sexual being who is also a caring mother--in short, a well-drawn, fully developed adult female character. This is fairly rare on network TV drama, so I relish every episode as more of Alicia Florrick's story unfolds. The talented Julianna Margulies has been bringing this character to life for five seasons.
Last night as I was relaxing watching this show I felt my worlds collide. The episode begins with Alicia anxiously pacing in a hotel room as her colleague Cary quickly skims a text. She is obviously awaiting his judgment. He delivers it: it's too dry, feels too labored. Even if she has spent two weeks on it, she needs to rewrite it before tomorrow. "They don't want facts and figures" he advises, "they want to hear your story." Alicia is preparing to give a keynote address at the annual meeting of the American Bar Association.
As the story progresses, the stakes are raised higher and higher; much depends on Alicia getting this speech right. But it is hard for her to tell her story. As a plot device this is terrific, and allows for flashbacks that flesh out a current, very conflicted relationship. But I was thrilled to see, on primetime TV, advice that I give my clients all the time: no one wants your bullet points; no one wants to hear you recite your resume; people come to learn from your story. Of course, you must have something to offer besides your personal story (to answer the unasked question "What's in it for me?"), or you would not be giving the keynote. But you have been invited, precisely because the event organizers want you to share your conclusion in your own words, to filter the results through the lens of your experience. Otherwise they would have asked someone else, or been content to read a report on your findings, rather than ask you to share with them.
But it is often hard to tell your story. We watch Alicia as she struggles. She is afraid of seeming too vulnerable. We see only a very small segment of her speech (I know I am in the minority, but I wanted to see it in its entirety). We cut to the speech in progress, and it is clear she has opened with a lighthearted story, but not a joke (also echoing my advice to never rely on a joke in a speech. See here,here, and here). And though there is some laughter as she begins her second paragraph, it is a laugh of recognition. It is a laugh of connection, of shared experience. They are with her! But Alicia loses confidence halfway through, when her audience starts to leave en masse. The reason they are leaving has nothing to do with her speech, but she doesn't know that, and we see her shaken. This moment offers a brilliant illustration of why I tell my speakers not to "judge" their performance by audience reaction--because the outside world can (and often does) come crashing into the world of your speech.
After her speech, though Alicia thinks she "bombed," we are led to believe that she managed to regain her composure, and shared her story honestly, with humility, and humor. Because in the end, she did impress her target audience. She had an objective, and she fulfilled it.
My objective last night was to be entertained for an hour by good performances and good writing. The rest was a bonus!
Reading is to writing as listening is to . . .
Teachers (and parents) tell their kids that one of the best ways to improve their writing is to read more. I was reminded of this last week when my social media filled with posts detailing friends' plans to participate in Read Across America Day.
In a very similar way, we can learn about speaking by listening. The most recent TED Radio Hour on NPR featured an interview with Julian Treasure, a sound expert who says we are "losing our listening." As someone who preaches that you can't be a good speaker unless you are a better listener, I was intrigued enough by his interview with host Guy Raz to watch Treasure's original TED Talk. In it, he describes the ways we have trained our ears for listening: how we recognize our names amid the din of a noisy party, for example, or tune out continuous "background" sound. But, he adds, our listening is also affected by many filters we subconsciously impose on what we hear: culture, language, values, beliefs, attitudes, expectations, intentions.
All in all, listening is a tricky business. And we need to practice doing it more mindfully. Fortunately, Treasure shares some clever exercises for improving our listening--indeed, the title of his TED talk is "5 Ways to Listen Better." He ends by making a plea for teaching listening to children. Because unless we collectively break this habit of shutting out sound, we are headed toward a totally dysfunctional, disconnected future where we block out the incessant, exhausting noise of everyday life by isolating ourselves under headphones. We need to learn how to listen, because listening is essential to human connection. "Conscious listening always creates understanding," Treasure observes.
Likewise, if we want to be understood when we speak, we must become better listeners first. We need to reconnect with each other in conversation--and stop performing dueling monologues. I often advise my clients that one way to improve as public speakers (i.e., when they engage in any speech not specifically "private") is to become better public listeners. This means being less impatient as listeners, exercising critical thinking skills, and not responding reflexively to contextual filters (see above). Then they can achieve a far better connection with the speaker and her/his message. And learn how to recreate that same connection when they are speaking. Only in that mental space is the act of true communication possible.
"Every human being needs to listen consciously in order to live fully. Connected in space and in time to the physical world around us. Connected to each other." Treasure is right. And why would we want to live any other way?
The Oscar for Most Mangled Intro goes to . . .
Now that we all have had a good laugh, let's look at what really happened at the Oscars. I thought the wins in the actor/actress categories were well-deserved. The competition was incredibly stiff; we were treated to many stellar performances this year. I hope my acting students had a chance to catch most of these movies. They could learn a lot from watching these actors ply their craft so brilliantly.
Pros and cons
As an actor/director/teacher I watch the Oscars because I want to see good work rewarded. As a speaking coach, I watch for the speeches. Here's what I thought of them this year: Lupita Nyong'o's
for her role in
was a textbook example of How It Is Done. She was gracious and grateful, even as she connected her good fortune with the historical reality of her character's grim fate. Her prepared speech struck just the right balance. Of course she prepared. She likely memorized her text--even rehearsed! Which is what you would expect from someone who studied at Yale School of Drama. She knows better than to "wing it." My other favorite speech was given by Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez who won for Best Theme Song, "Let it Go" from
They presented, in duet fashion, a rhymed
that was clever, short, and to the point. A treat--written by people who know how to write.
The really bad speakers of the night weren't those accepting awards--though with his "hero" riff, Matthew McConaughey almost went off the rails. This year it was the presenters who were lacking in stage presence.
should have come to rehearsal and put his contacts in on Oscar night. There is absolutely no excuse for the way he messed up the name of the star he was introducing! He is being mocked in all media, and deservedly so. And
bling couldn't make up for the fact that he just stared stone-faced into the camera as he announced three of the best picture nominees. As if he couldn't be bothered to muster any enthusiasm. Truly a moment many of his peers and fans will remember.
Accepting an award well (or bestowing one, for that matter) is something that takes practice. Next time you're in that enviable position, be more Lupita, less Matthew, more engaged than Harrison, and whatever you do, don't pull a Travolta!
If you can read me you may be too close
Clients reach out to me for many reasons. But when we boil it down, most of them have the same goal: they want to connect more effectively with their listeners. Whether they are prepping to speak at a high-stakes meeting, in an interview, or for a keynote, They want to make sure the audience really hears their message.
Some of them ask how they can improve their ability to "read" the audience. I say that is a very complicated thing to do, and not the best use of their (usually very limited) prep time. And here's why: I know (from my training as an actor) that people often are "showing" emotions on at least two different levels. Their bodies, for example, will say one thing, while their faces convey another. The eyes and the shoulders often disagree. And what comes out of their mouths can express something else altogether! As an acting teacher I often coach my actors to "play the opposites." People are complicated, contradictory; the conscious mind and the subconscious are often at odds. Only novice actors try to convey consistent characters. And as a playwright, I walk the fine line between having my characters consciously make decisions, and "letting them" do what they need to do, even if that comes from a subconscious need.
So I was glad to read a column in yesterday's New York Times by Lisa Feldman Barrett who is an expert in the field of the psychology of emotion. She tells Apple and the TSA and everyone else who thinks they can "read" someone's inner emotional state by looking at her/his face "...this assumption is wrong. Several recent and forthcoming research papers from the Interdisciplinary Affective Science Laboratory, which I direct, suggest that human facial expressions, viewed on their own, are not universally understood."
She goes on to cite studies that point out the flaws in previous research that led people to believe they could understand emotions by just looking at faces. Her conclusions make sense to me. Then she answers the inevitable question: "If faces do not 'speak for themselves,' how do we manage to 'read' other people? The answer is that we don’t passively recognize emotions but actively perceive them, drawing heavily (if unwittingly) on a wide variety of contextual clues — a body position, a hand gesture, a vocalization, the social setting and so on."
So to be able to accurately "read" someone you need to know context in which you are encountering this person, and it helps if you have more than a passing knowledge of the person as well. Think about it: as you look around at an event where you are a participant (a wedding reception, or a class reunion) there are people whose expressions you most definitely can identify. But you are in a familiar context, with people you probably know quite well. And even those people might seem a bit more opaque if you are with them in a foreign setting (a Congressional hearing room, for example).
I advise clients to spend their prep time wisely: prepare (before you write a word, get as much info as you can on the speech occasion/event itself, as well as your audience), and practice (no one ever practices too much). When you are there, do your best to connect by staying focused and "in the moment." Don't distract yourself trying to "read" your audience. Even if you are a neuroscientist, such conscious speculation will take you out of communications loop, disconnecting you when you most want to be connected. Save the "match the face to the emotion" game for your next family gathering.
How to Develop Authentic Presence at MBA Information Sessions
Barbara Coward of Enrollment Strategies posted the following blog on her site March 1, 2014:
Barbara has asked me to guest-blog this month, so let me just start by introducing myself. My name is Ann Timmons, Communications Artist. I help clients communicate with powerful clarity. My approach is informed by my background in the professional theatre. It is hands-on and practical, meeting clients where they are, speaking-wise, and giving them the tools they need to discover–and embrace–their Authentic Presence.
There are many traps speakers can fall into when they present a lot of information. The primary trap, however, is not that the speaker will bore the audience, but that the speaker is afraid she/he will bore the audience. When you begin a speech already worried that you will bore your listeners, rest assured, you will! So how do you fix that? Let’s examine why you think your speech will fail to engage your listeners. Often it is because what you are saying bores you. It is information you have given time and time again, and so you feel you are droning on and on with the same old, same old. If that is your attitude, you’re speech is guaranteed to bore the audience. The good news is—you can fix it!
First of all, you need to go back to content organization and ask yourself: is this really the best way to organize my material? And does each point follow the other? If you don’t create an outline when you initially write your presentation (and I mean an old-fashioned outline with Roman numerals, not bullet points), go back and “reverse outline” to make sure the structure fits into outline form. Do not venture beyond the sub point level of detail. And throw out anything that does not fit the outline; it will distract listeners from your main points. When you veer off onto tangents that do not reinforce your thesis, you lose your audience. Novelists refer to this as “killing your little darlings.” Sometimes it hurts, but it is necessary to keep your audience focused.
Limit your number of main points to three, possibly four (if you must). Likewise each main point should have no more than three sub points. Much research has shown that the human brain cannot process more than this at one time. Especially in small type on a PowerPoint slide! If you have seven main points figure out how to group them so you have fewer. Nothing bores an audience like interminable lists.
Next, remember that even when delivering information, you are telling a story. So keep narrative structure in mind. Luckily, the beginning-middle-end formula for every story ever told fits nicely with the introduction-main points-conclusion format of a speech. Look for stories to use as examples for reinforcing or illustrating your main points. If you can find one great story (a story of individual triumph over adversity, for example) that can be the overarching illustration for your speech, use it. But you don’t have to wrack your brain for that one. Using a different story to illustrate each of your points will work quite well. Be specific. And since story-telling is an aural art form, you need to adhere to its rules. Use active verbs in short sentences.
So I would say content-wise, judicious use of story will help you avoid falling into the boredom trap. As for delivery, the wonderful thing about using stories is that telling them makes your delivery more connectional. You will be talking to people, not at them, creating relationship with the audience members by sharing stories. Connecting through story, after all, is how humans have built community though the ages.
It’s not a magic bullet, but if you focus on the story you are telling (not just the examples you use to illustrate your points, but the larger story of why you are speaking in the first place) you will engage your audience. And positioning yourself as a storyteller who has something vital to share establishes connection. That sense of shared humanity will pay off long after you have stepped away from the podium.
The Olympian in all of us
My last blog generated much good discussion on- and off-line. So I thought I would pick up where I left off. In that post I focused on the people blaming their lack of "natural gifts" for not trying to cultivate a skill, or improve on what they already possess. As I continued to watch world-class athletes finishing up their competition at the XXII Winter Olympic Games, I kept asking myself: who is really a "natural" at skeleton racing? snowboard cross? And ice dancing? I started skating as a kid, and I remember the first lessons I learned had to do with just staying upright. It was a while before I learned to skate backwards, and I never learned to twizzle! I am sure Meryl Davis and Charlie White fell a lot as kids. But they got back up. Only to fall again. They have probably fallen hundreds of times over the years. But eventually, their technique became so strong that ice-dancing seems the most natural way for them to move. They immersed themselves in their discipline, and they mastered it.
So what about those who reach a level of mastery sufficient to their needs, and then stop? Unlike Team USA members who assured us they just keep trying to improve each time they compete, these folks are happy where they are and that's that. I am not thinking of the U.S. Speedskating team (I am sure they were working hard to stay on top), but of people who perform in a very different arena: public speaking.
You know the ones I mean--those who have reached their own goal of feeling comfortable standing and speaking in front of people, but have stopped there. Now that they are no longer anxious, they try to maintain control by not changing anything. They become set in their ways. Predictable. And not open to hearing suggestions that might lead to improvement. Something worked for them once, and without anaylzing why, they repeat whatever it was each time they speak. Often it involves retelling some lame joke, or striking an "I'm-the-important-expert" pose. Or something else they use as a gimmick so they can face the crowd and still stay in their comfort zone. None of these tactics are designed with the listener in mind. It's all about what the speaker needs. And that's just wrong.
Your job as a speakers is never to just deliver content. If it were, you could send a memo. You need to speak to the audience, not talk at it. Invest in making a connection. Audiences can tell if you are unable/unwilling/unprepared to do this. Sometimes they give you the benefit of the doubt, but don't count on it. That "relaxation" you feel when you think your "formula" has served you well? It may just be boredom from the audience creeping toward you.
Like the Olympic athletes, anyone who wants to truly master a discipline needs to keep moving forward. Keep learning. Keep growing. And be thankful the "stumbles" you have on the way won't send you careening down a half-pipe or slamming into an ice rink wall.
Gifts that keep on giving
Recently I was having a conversation with a dear friend who confided in me that she could never be a good speaker because she lacked the "gift." Before I could respond the conversation shifted. But the question lingers: why do we continue to believe the fallacy about the preeminence of "giftedness" when people are really good at something? We know, for example, that Team USA's ice-dancing stars Meryl Davis and Charlie White have been training together for 17(!) years, but we still think that being "gifted" is the primary ingredient for their success. I am not saying that their talent isn't part of the equation, but I know many extraordinarily talented people who are not anywhere near the top of their professions. Talent is just the beginning.
Most of us try a sport, hobby, or profession because we feel an affinity for it; it's something we find we're good at. That initial talent provides the spark, but hard work and discipline fan the flame of later success. Watching the Olympics I imagine that the long journey each of athlete there began with at least a few easy steps. What separates these world class competitors from the rest of us is their willingness to push themselves when it stops being easy, to put in the hours and years of hard work, to dedicate themselves almost single-mindedly to their sport.
But I can't do that
Why do I compare Davis and White to my friend, the reluctant speaker? It's simple, really. We start producing speech as toddlers, and by adolescence we already have been told we possess "the gift of gab." Or we "know" we do not. But the truth is anyone who
has the ability
to talk possesses the raw material for becoming a great speaker. Wanting to do it, though, is something else. I can help anyone develop a personal road map to speaking success. But by the time clients reach me many of them have fixed (often negative) ideas of their speaking ability. And it's hard to shake. They find it difficult to believe that shyness, introversion, even poor vocal production can be overcome. They need convincing that the skill of dynamic speaking can be taught--and mastered. It's not magic, but it does takes a perceptual shift, combined with discipline, and its more mundane cousin, effort. As
said "Ninety-eight per cent of genius is hard work."
So next time you watch those Olympic skaters, skiers, hockey-players, and bobsledders, think about the lifetimes they spent developing their initial "gifts" into world-class skills. It makes the time you will spend preparing and polishing your next speech seem like a walk in the park, indeed!
Save the comedy for the clubs
I know... it has only been two months since I last blogged about the misguided notion that you should start your speech with a joke (see Giving Thanks for Sarah Silverman,and, before that, Safety Training Required) but when I tell people I am a public speaking coach, they often feel compelled to share with me their ideas of best practices. And inevitably, the joke thing comes up. So once again, with feeling, I say: please disregard past instructions from amateur speakers and their clubs, books you have read by random speechwriters, or lessons learned in Public Speaking 101. DO NOT START YOUR SPEECH WITH A JOKE. I am not joking!
Why do you want to waste the first incredibly valuable seconds of a speech engaging in an activity for which you have not had previous training, sending your listeners off on a mental tangent--inviting comparisons with professional comedians who really can tell a joke, or worse jeopardizing your credibility? You should be "hooking" the audience with your content, not using them as comedy club guinea pigs. It is not that I lack an appreciation of humor. But I know that humor is hard and its use has to be earned. Or as we say in acting world, "Dying is easy, comedy is hard" (deathbed quote variously attributed to actors Edmund Kean and Edmund Gwynne.)
And it's not just jokes. This weekend someone told me the best advice he got in a college course on public speaking was to open with a humorous icebreaker. When I shared this with a colleague, he suggested that there must be a book of such quips floating around, because he has heard a few of them on multiple occasions--from different people. I have had this experience: shifting uncomfortably in the audience upon hearing the same mildly humorous line spoken for the fourth time in as many speeches by a respected, notable speaker. Why does she diminish her brand with this attempt at "funny"? A comedian can have a comic "catch phrase," but is it really appropriate for anyone with a more serious job?
The reason always given (and I just heard it again this weekend) is that starting with a humorous line "relaxes the speaker and relaxes the audience." But watching an audience suppress the eyeroll and groan that accompany the thought "here we go again--another content expert who wants to unleash his inner comedian on us" does not a relaxed speaker make. So you reflexively turn a blind eye to the audience reaction in the opening moments, when you should be making a strong initial connection! And trust me, there are ways to achieve relaxation at the podium that are more effective than trying to regain momentum after you "bomb" with your first quip. Because unless you know your audience extremely well, know their cultural background, know their sense of humor, and have practiced your jokes and your humorous stories for timing and rhythm, you will bomb with someone there. Why take the risk?
It all boils down to ego. Because in a business setting, unlike a comedy club, no one will boo you if your joke falls flat. And if your core message is in demand, you will be asked to speak in spite of your propensity to be NOT funny. But do you really want to be that guy -- the one about whom people say, "It's funny: for such a smart guy, you would think he would know he can't tell a joke"?
State of the laundry list
The President's annual State of the Union Address always provides a good overview of the agenda his administration will pursue in the coming year. Sometimes it even inspires! But last night's edition followed the pattern of too many SOTU's in recent memory--it was fairly dull. Here's how I know: I am trained to pay close attention to speeches of all kinds, yet I could barely overcome the distractions that beckoned. After years of asking myself why I feel so strangely dissatisfied after SOTUs--whatever the party of the President--I engaged in an experiment last night. I actually tracked the speech to see if concentrating on that level made it easier to follow. It did not. Even with pen in hand, I lost the thread of the speech, only to pick it up seconds later, when I found we were on an altogether different topic.
I conclude that the State of the Union really isn't meant to be a very good speech, as speeches go. It is a comprehensive list, a giant memo outlining the administration's plans for the next months. I guess it fits this definition of address: "a formal communication". And since everyone in the room (and many of those who tuned in) would be reading and parsing the speech after the fact, maybe the President's speechwriters don't feel the need to "write for the ear." But to anyone at home who was not playing a version of SOTU bingo (I particularly like the League of Women Voters' version, pictured here) or listening for specific sound bites to support her/his cause, it was a dud.
Delivery was good, yes--the President looked relaxed yet enrgized, really focussed and relatively impassioned. And he displayed the great comic sense we relish whenever we see it.
But the content violated so many tried-and-true practices of speechwriting. His "introduction" (if that is what it was) contained one list of six points, followed by one of five, and I was getting lost already. There were far too many topics; Tamara Keith of NPR tweeted that he would cover 12! If they had been clumped into three major topics, say Equality/Inequality (income, civil and human rights), Economic Growth (foreign and domestic, big biz and small), Foreign Relations (Iraq, Afghanistan, war on terrorism, use of diplomacy) we could have tracked the subpoints more clearly. I got lost halfway through "Citizenship," which seemed to include "diplomacy" (with an appropriate shout-out to diplomats and the military). But that segued to the fight against terrorism, on to international relations and back to diplomacy. I saw how these could flow logically if you were reading a paper, but for the casual listener at home who was trying to follow the essence of the speech, it was hard. The address was definitely not user-friendly, unless you were using a scorecard or tweeting out favorite "lines."
There is a reason most speeches adhere to standard organizing principles, and good speeches rely on the "tell you what you're going to tell them, tell them, then tell them you told them" pattern in one variation or another. Even speeches based on a story-telling model have a beginning, a middle, and an end.
I think that is why most listeners are just half-attending the speech, waiting to prick up their ears when the President speaks about their issues. And maybe that is really the point of it--to cover key issues that matter to the constituents and policy-makers. So, yes, on that score it was a win. President Obama covered a lot. And I even heard some points that pleased me.
But let's not fool ourselves that this was a good speech. A good list, yes. With some great personal stories thrown in to liven it up. But beware--no one should use this as a model for their speech-making. Ever. If you want to capture the audience's attention and keep it, look to a speech that has some shape, some vision, some over-arching theme. For an address that really is a speech - look at just about anything else this President has given us.
Words will never hurt me. . . ?
Remember the schoolyard taunt "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me?" When I was a kid that little saying was taken to be absolute truth, and anyone who complained about being called a name was labelled a crybaby-- which, if you were sensitive to language, and considered name-calling a form of bullying--made matters even worse!
Somewhere during the decades between my childhood and that of my children, "conventional wisdom" on abusive use of words seismically shifted. Thank goodness! I taught my kids that words matter and that hard, mean words could hurt as much as fists. As a word person, I have always felt the inherent power of words. I am glad much of the rest of the world now accepts this truth as well!
This week, schools across the country celebrated No Name-Calling Week. Created by the Gay, Lesbian & Straight Education Network (GLSEN) in 2004, this program encourages "schools to dedicate a week of the year to improving school climate," and "has grown into one of the largest bullying-prevention initiatives in the country." No-Name Calling Week offers activities for all grade levels, so that pernicious bullying may be stopped before it even starts. And GLSEN is not alone in tackling the problem of bullying: my son's high school has their own award-winning program, Project Upstanders.
It is through such efforts that we now see what name-calling always has been: a way to diminish and discriminate against those we perceive as "other." The world is getting smaller by the day. We have contact with people of widely different backgrounds and preferences all the time now. We need to treat those we interact with respectfully, and use language that reflects a non-judgmental awareness of others' differences.
Those used to wielding language as a cudgel need to get with the program. "Verbal bullies" must see that their words can provoke as much as actions do. Incoming (and former) New York City Police Commissioner Bill Bratton knows this. Maureen Dowd quotes the Commissioner in a recent column for the New York Times, saying "We have an expression in policing that it’s not the use of force that gets cops in trouble, it’s the use of language... an officer who says, 'Sir, can I speak to you?,' rather than 'Hey, you, get over here,' will be more productive."
Well said, sir, well said. Now let's all go out and "use our words" as well as NYC's finest!
