I was asked by @VizChic (and many others) to provide ‘tips’ on *How To Get Comfortable Speaking In Front Of Crowds*. It was asked in the context helping fellow introverts, but I think the following is widely applicable. And so, here’s how… 0/75
Introverts, you dear fools (!)—speaking is a sacred opportunity to share your thoughts *uninterrupted*. You realise what a rare gift this is, right? Most of the best speakers are inclined toward introversion. This is our domain. 1/75
I should also point out—we all (myself included) get a little too obsessed with the introversion/extraversion label. Better to think of it in terms of our ‘recharging’ preferences. Introverts like a bit of solitude, extraverts prefer time with friends. 2/75
As everything, it’s contextual. Some extraverts are incredibly nervous and shy on stage. Likewise, some introverts blossom with exuberance. Like that shy friend of yours who doesn’t dance but then is suddenly doing the worm. And then there are ambiverts, so: go figure. 3/75
Ergo: introverts can happily speak to audiences—it may just take a lot more out of us. Thus we need to block out time before and after such affairs to recover. Anyway, all that aside, here are some tips. 4/75
Ignore literally every bit of speaking advice you’ve heard. Almost all of the conventional advice focuses on the wrong things, and has you more self-conscious than ever. 5/75
Toastmasters famously have an ‘ah counter’—someone who will count the number of times you say ‘ah’, ‘uhm’ etc. But: you get what you focus on: this just makes for more ahs and uhms. Focus instead on the ideas/insight you’re sharing, and your intent for the audience. 6/75
My speaking mentor and mate @mattchurch calls this ‘message before method’. Know your stuff, first and foremost. (Luckily, if you’re an overthinker like me and many, this isn’t too hard. Although: the more you know, the more you know you don’t know—so that sucks.). 7/75
Part of knowing your message means mapping out your intent—the ideas you’ll share, the sequence you’ll share them, and the overall cognitive flow of your presentation. That’s beyond the scope of this thread though. 8/75
Don’t rehearse! This one’s unconventional but practice makes for a dull performance. Underwhelming success, at best. Why? Because it has you fixated on perfecting your delivery of a script—and not connecting with the audience and being comfortable in yourself. 9/75
My worst ever keynotes have been ones I had ‘overcooked it’ by preparing too much. Rehearsing and practicing just gives you ‘an ideal standard’ to compare yourself against in real time. And comparison is the key to misery. 10/75
Instead: be prepared to wing it. This doesn’t mean ‘just wing it’—it means: ‘be prepared (to wing it)’. So how do you prepare to wing it? 11/75
‘Simply:’ know your stuff, and be clear on your intent for the audience. From this, you can ‘scaffold’ your flow. For some, this means slides—though, the fewer slides (and less words) the better. Seriously: less is more, and you’ll be way more comfortable with less. 12/75
Others prefer palm cards, or to read from a few simple notes. You might as well use slides though, if the equipment is there. This also ensures you aren’t tempted to simply read behind the lectern. 13//75
For each point you want to make, think: what is a way to present this rationally (that is: so that it makes a kind of logical sense). Then: what is a way you can bring this to life with a story? To imbibe your point with emotion? 14/75
Stories & studies, concepts & details. This the dance we do around each point we make (again, thank you @mattchurch). When you *know your stuff*—and can share models, metaphors, analogies and case studies—you’ll find yourself much more comfortable speaking to an audience. 15/75
On the day of your presentation itself: ignore the greenroom (private speaker prep room) and instead be amongst the people and the audience. This gives you empathy and a kind of intuitive ‘resonance’ for where the room is at. 16/75
It also keeps your attention focused on the people you are serving. Some may ask you what your talk is about. Just sigh warmly, affix a wry glint and tease them with ‘ah, you’ll see’ or ‘you’ll hear soon enough—tell me more about you’. 17/75
(People love talking about themselves, so this will buy you some time). Heck, what am I saying: I don’t really talk to people before I’m on. As in: I don’t actively seek it (though I’m amicable enough if conversation finds me). I don’t really eat food before I’m on either. 18/75
I just sit in the room and breathe, and try to cultivate a sense of nonchalance. A charismatic and unflappable aplomb. This, critically, includes having met with the AV crew beforehand and ensured the tech is all fine. 19/75
It’s stoic/wise to believe the tech will stuff up. It may well. That’s fine, though, because *you know your stuff*. The slides were only ever there as support—the palm cards you have or backup notes (if needed) will stand in fine. And besides: the audience is on your side. 20/75
Let the person introducing you establish your credibility. Write out a bio that establishes your ‘authority’ (or why your perspective is valuable). They *want* you to sound impressive. This is your myth-making, and part of the fun and theatre at play. 21/75
Don’t feel too obsessed about ‘the energy of the room’—you don’t need to run on stage whooping to to J-Lo’s ‘let’s get loud’ and the audience does not need to ‘hi5’ each other or dance. Unless that’s your vibe. (More on this another day). 22/75
Take a few moments after being introduced to make yourself comfortable on stage. Treat it as though you were in your lounge room about to share some stuff with friends. Verily: take your time, get comfy, settle in—this is how us introverts ‘own the stage’. 23/75
I always ask for a raised stool (it offers the perfect blend of authority and approachability) and I spend a bit fussing about while I natter away at the audience. This nattering affirms that you aren’t simply a pull-string speaker, working a script. You’re actually there. 24/75
After establishing your comfort on stage (for me, it’s sitting on the stool, casual) share your *intent* for the presentation. That is: what’s in it for the audience? And why is this important? And why do you care? 25/75
Many folk skip past this: but it’s a missed opportunity. No cheap tricks are needed to ‘win engagement’. Simply: why is this important, and why ought people be paying attention to this right now. This is the gripping *premise* of your presentation. 26/75
What’s the problem? What’s the pain you see? What’s the concern you have? What’d happen if this goes unchecked? What are the implications for the folk in the room (and, collectively, our shared future)? 27/75
People’s thinking faces can be frightful. You might be deeply captivating—but when you look at folk they may have faces of concern. And wait is that someone on their phone? 28/75
Paranoia is slightly useful as a speaker—but don’t get swept up in it. That person is probably tweeting you, or something. Find your beacons—those friendly faces scattered through the crowd. 29/75
These are where your eyes will rest as you share your presentation. And there are almost always friendly faces to be found. If you’re really unsure though, there are ways to get a read from the audience. 30/75
Dry and or dark humour is one such way. This acts like a sonar ping—if people laugh, they are paying attention. The key with humour, though, is that it needs to be humorous. It can’t simply be ‘jokes’—though some people use humorous slides. 31/75
That’s fine, I suppose, for amateurs. Another way to sense engagement is by encouraging conversation amidst the room. This is one of the things very few speakers seem to do, but it is so powerful. 32/75
A thoughtful provocation, along with the encouragement to chat in small huddles gives the audience a chance to integrate their learning. To sound it out, to test and play with the new ideas/insights/perspectives you have offered. 33/75
It also gives you a break. A chance to step back and observe the meta. To have a sip of water and breathe for a bit. I always ask the AV folk to be able to turn the mic off and on myself (so that I don’t need to rely on them). 34/75
Not all are happy to do this, but I feel comfier for it. On the question of microphones—headset or lapel, all the time. Handheld mics could be okay if mounted on a stand—but personally, I don’t like holding them. 35/75
Why? Because your ‘energy’ is more contained. I feel less expansive when I have a mic in my hand, and I can’t gesticulate my pontifications and eloquently. It’s hobbling and unnatural. A lapel or headset mic allows you to just speak and be. 36/75
If something goes wrong on stage—call it out and own it in real time. This is much more effective than trying to pretend the audience hasn’t noticed that you’ve noticed. And besides—your metacognitive real-time critique will go into overdrive. 37/75
To quote tool: ‘Over thinking, over analyzing, separates the body from the mind. Withering my intuition, missing opportunities and I must feed my will to feel my moment, drawing way outside the lines.’ 38/75
I guess what I’m saying is: don’t shut off your wit—your ability to improvise and work with reality, integrating the unexpected to make a new kind of magic. This is the enchantment of real-life events. 39/75
I’ve had friends attend main stage TED only say it felt a bit manufactured and stilted. Like they were just a studio audience (because the presentations have had the life rehearsed out of them). 40/75
Listen to the podcast chat with @BreneBrown and @rustyrockets. Brené is an introvert, and goes into her process (including, similarly, *not* scripting or rehearsing). Here’s a link – russellbrand.com/podcast/85-vul… 41/75
Consider the peak-end rule. Or basically: end on a high note. I’ll talk about end-notes in a bit—but before I do: questions. The last thing you want to do is end with questions. 42/75
Why? Because you just don’t know if the last question—the thing that informs the lingering resonance and memory of your presentation—but be a self-serving/critical or dud one. 43/75
Some folks just can’t read the meta-mythos. They’re wrapped up in their own story, and aren’t aware of the bigger narrative that they are a part of. That’s okay—you can stymie a dud finish before it manifests. 44/75
How? Do your question time at the 3/4 mark of your presentation, and have an ‘inspirational uplift quote’ (or loop closer) to finish on. Yes, quotes are lame but they reliably manifest the ‘nyawwww’ finish. Even if the last question was a downer or a bit dud. 45/75
A ‘loop closer’ is a more advanced technique that closes a loop that was opened at the start of your talk. This can easily come off as too manufactured or contrived (which is why I often prefer the nyawww quote)—but it can be very powerful when it works. 46/75
Immediately after you’re done talking, you may be flooded with anxieties, insecurities and relief. It’s a weird alchemy. Sometimes I go into super-tyrannical hypercritical self-flagellation mode. This is not cool—I’ve learnt to take steps to avoid it. 47/75
So, I suggest you try to accept the tepid and kind praise people will give you, and watch how quickly you realise: it doesn’t really matter, and it’s not about you anyway (it never was). Be glad to have contributed. But, if need be: summon warm arrogance. With a wry glint. 48/75
This is a characterful persona I embody after a talk where I suspect I didn’t do so well. I say things to myself like: ‘it went over their heads’ and ‘they’ll get it, in time’. It’s self-soothing for the ego. (Or: I play the comical martyr. Either way: be ridiculous.) 49/75
‘Can I offer you some feedback?’ someone might ask. Heck no! Create a soft force field around you where unsolicited feedback can remain there, suspended but not affecting you. 50/75
I usually incinerate all unsolicited feedback with a wave of the hand (I have layers of wards to protect myself from such)—but you can also compartmentalise it and review it in a week’s time after you’ve had some distance from it. Most feedback is rubbish, though. 51/75
Better instead to view it all with a twinkle in your eye, a tilt in your stance, and a hint mirth. The trouble is—and this particularly affects me if I’m tired—we all tend to *identify* too much with our work. To get too heavy and serious. 52/75
You are not your work. You are not the presentation you just did, or will do. (This is particularly difficult nowadays as our past work often haunts us on the internet, shaping how others perceive us but—that was then, this is now.) 53/75
I don’t mean to sound flippant—in a professional context of course you are always seeking to serve the client, the context, the audience. This can get tricky when the needs are different between each. 54/75
For example: the CEO wants people aligned to strategy, the event organiser wants people to have a great time (energy! engagement! trending! ovations!) and the audience want to feel a sense of autonomy and hope (and less overwhelm), say. 55/75
Thus it’s not fair to assess a presentation too soon after it is given. Ignore the immediate ratings that event organisers seem obsessed with: that’ll only tell you how people ‘feel’ in that moment. 56/75
(If you want to hack that: make them feel affirmed, secure and smart. Finish with an emotional story that they can connect with—a narrative that makes them feel special, grateful and inspired). 57/75
Instead: give it some time. And then, when you’re well rested and in a good place, maybe journal/reflect: what went well? And what might you do differently next time? 58/75
This is how I avoid the doom spiral that can be triggered by speaking in pubic. I haven’t had a doom spiral in years now. Maybe that’s something to worry about? Ooh: another point—don’t compare yourself to professional speakers. 59/75
Professional speaking is really odd. I’m one of them, but the whole thing can easily come across as bit too, uh, artificial and rehearsed? The interesting this is: this leaves audiences (and markets) craving raw honesty and real stories. 60/75
Pithy tweetable bits of wisdom will probably never go out of fashion, but the presentations that resonate most (well, to me, at least) are the ones that have people sharing things that they are earnestly grappling with (and excited about). 61/75
They may not result in top tips, quick hacks or life-changing epiphanies—but they plant new seeds of perspective, and open up richer opportunities for dialogue and inquiry. 62/75
Speaking, in this way, is one of the best ways to share the distillations of your unfurling protosynthesis—the working sense you have of a particular thing (based on all you have learnt and experienced). This is a gift. 63/75
I think I’ve gone overboard in the tips department and ventured back into philosophy, such is my want. If you’re a complex overthinker, timing and coherency is your main challenge. This is why you *prepare* to wing it. 64/75
You have a rough sense of the main ideas and flow, and your overarching intent for the audience. Events are *living* things. Much as some are planned down to the minute, it’s very likely you won’t get your full allocation of time. 65/75
That’s fine: drop a story, shorten or skip a point. Be non-attached to content, and fully attached to intent. That way, you can always be in service to the audience, the client and the bigger program you are a small part of. 66/75
Okay I’m starting to repeat myself now: a sure sign this thread is done. I hope this is of some help to folks who might otherwise feel uncomfortable about speaking in public. If you have any questions, let me know. Thanks. 67/75
No wait, I’m back. Some concerns: ‘But what if I don’t know my stuff?’ or ‘What if I feel like an imposter?’ or ‘What happens if I embarrass myself?’ Legit questions. 68/75
If you don’t know your stuff—that’s great. As Terry Pratchett once said: ‘The presence of those seeking the truth is infinitely to be preferred to the presence of those who think they've found it.’ 69/75
Share your curiosity: the questions you’re asking, where it’s leading you, and what you’re finding. Or: cede power. Give up your spot for someone who does know more, or offers a different perspective. Someone less privileged, where possible. 70/75
Have the imposter syndrome? So does everyone. Well: the best of us. Again: this is a good sign. It shows that you care about what others think, and that you have the humility to know that maybe you don’t have it all figured out. 71/75
(The world seems to love confidence and fluency, though—so even if you feel the imposter syndrome intensely, maybe summon a persona to embody that’ll gift you a simulacrum of confidence, even if only for a while). 72/75
What happens if you embarrass yourself? Hmmm. Check: where is your attention? It seems to be on *you*—and not on the wider conversation you are serving, and the higher role you are playing. 73/75
It’s not about you. It really isn’t. So: don’t fret about how to best take a photo from stage to post to your social medias to build your following and influence. Don’t preen. Put all that aside. 74/75
Recognise the sacred opportunity (and responsibility) that comes with speaking to an audience. Prepare to wing it, and do so, playfully, in service to the room. 75/75 Ah, fin! Happy to take questions (but I may be slow). I’ll try end with some sort of inspiring quote. Thanks all.
