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Image credit: Big Car |
Edit ruthlessly.
Good writing requires great editing. This was instilled in me during my
undergraduate academic work in English and reinforced throughout my professional career writing for journals and trade publications. My
initial presentation drafts tried to cover far more major themes than the final
version. Even it might have tried to do too much given the time
constraints.
- What’s the bottom line I want people to think about and act on?
- Why is this point (this example) important to include?
- Will it lessen the overall impact if it is removed completely?
- Is there a better way to show rather than tell my point?
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Image credit: Big Car |
It was great to speak with
attendees after my talk and hear them bring up specific examples of what
resonated with them: some mentioned the Edward deBono quote about crayons, some
spoke about the bagged lettuce example, some noted Sondheim and George
Seurat references. I had chosen each of these metaphors or stories as potentially memorable anchors to encapsulate the major points I was
trying to make.
Honor your voice.
My work is almost always
experiential and interactive: it's what I am known for contributing. But I initially told myself there was no way to
bring that to play in a 10-minute stage presentation with 500 people in fixed auditorium seating. So my first presentation design
included nothing of the sort. I hated it. It felt flat.
Worse yet, it didn’t feel like me, and I knew I wouldn’t enjoy giving it.
Talking with a few colleagues
helped me see a way into bringing more of who I am and what I believe into the presentation. This resulted in the silent opening,
perhaps the most terrifying 40 seconds I’ve ever had speaking in public. But it achieved my primary
objective: turning passive spectators into engaged learners while illustrating
the main theme of my talk. It was counterintuitive and somewhat risky, but thankfully, it worked pretty well.
Preparation can vary.
I was fascinated with the varied approaches other speakers used to prepare
their presentation since it is such a personal process: writing it out almost verbatim, using a lengthy slide deck
to tell the story, practicing in front of family and friends. Some people are great at making intensely rehearsed remarks seem fresh. I'm not.
So my approach was somewhat
different. The first and only time
I went through the entire talk was the day I actually delivered it at the
conference. (I've yet to watch the video of it and most likely never will). Being present is a key part of my commitment as a facilitator, and as a speaker
I didn’t want to be so scripted and polished that the talk could almost be delivered on autopilot.
Instead, my rehearsal consisted of crafting the language around what I labeled “set pieces,” the key one-
or two-minute segments introducing each key point. I then ran through those enough times to get a feel for the words and the rhythm that mattered most. I wanted their transitions and
connections to simply emerge from me onstage guided by what felt right in the
moment.
While slightly unorthodox in
approach, I hadn’t really been too concerned about it until I received this
text from a friend a few days before the event:
How goes the preparation for what might be the most important 600 seconds of your entire professional career?
(Note to self: get new
friends in 2013. LOL).
My friend was joking, of
course. It’s not like I was
speaking on the TED Conference mainstage (um, Chris
Anderson, I’m available though).
And I’ve long believed that
what a speaker should fear most is not an appropriate level of nervousness or
performance anxiety when heading onstage, but instead, the absence of it. The moment we think we have it all
figured out ... that nothing can go wrong ... is the moment that everything
unravels. This is as true for
speaking on a stage as it is interacting with a friend or colleague. You can't rehearse authenticity.
Good speaking (or facilitating) is ultimately
about good relationships. Good relationships require being human.
So whether it is the stage at a conference or the stage on which you
appear in life, it’s not about performing: it’s about you. Share your story. Speak on your terms. What others make of it is beyond your
control.
And that is the ultimate
lesson I hope never to forget.
Update:Since TEDxIndianapolis in 2012, I delivered this address in two 60-minute keynotes in 2013 and one 25-minute TED-style talk in 2014. Video for the latter can be watched here. You can see how my thinking has evolved, as well as how I continue to hone in on how to make key points resonate and have staying power with participants.
Update:Since TEDxIndianapolis in 2012, I delivered this address in two 60-minute keynotes in 2013 and one 25-minute TED-style talk in 2014. Video for the latter can be watched here. You can see how my thinking has evolved, as well as how I continue to hone in on how to make key points resonate and have staying power with participants.