This may not sound like a surprising admission, since 74 percent of the US population surveyed in 2013 shares a fear of public speaking.1 What’s unusual is that I speak regularly to large audiences around the United States—despite having this fear. I even formed a company called Eloqui, with my partner, David Booth, to train and coach professionals to be effective presenters and communicators.
Over time, I’ve learned to manage my anxiety and turn it into an engine that propels me forward. As I tell my clients, some anxiety is a good thing. It says your presentation is important. Anxiety means your brain is firing on all cylinders. And you’re in the moment, focused on the task at hand. The trick is never to let your doubts stop you from speaking out.
The trick is never to let your doubts stop you from speaking out.
Before founding Eloqui, I was a film and television director. For more than fifteen years I worked behind the scenes, directing actors and business executives to deliver their strongest performances. During that period, I produced and/or directed more than sixty award-winning films and videos.
But common wisdom says you teach what you most need to know, and that applied to me. I was certain that whenever I spoke in public, the audience sat silently in judgment—as if my own internal critic weren’t harsh enough.
The flip side was that I knew speaking engagements would heighten my credibility as a director and accelerate the growth of my production company. Even then, I realized that when you address an audience, you’re seen as the go-to person in your industry—whether you’re a paid speaker or volunteer. At the time, I’d rather have had a root canal than voluntarily address a business group, be interviewed by the press, or speak at a conference where I was presented as an expert.
Naturally, because of my fear of public speaking, or glossophobia (in Greek, glosso means tongue; phobos means fear), I avoided most speaking opportunities. If, in a moment of weakness, I’d agreed to give a talk, sheer terror would set in immediately. I’d wake up every morning agonizing over the upcoming presentation and obsess about creative ways to cancel. This mental tug of war went on for weeks before the actual engagement.
By the time I stood up to address the audience, my fear of failure had become a self-fulfilling prophecy. The ability to think on my feet vanished. My quavering voice rose an octave, and I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. Afraid of making a fool of myself by leaving something out, I read my neatly typed, double-spaced copy word for word. Needless to say, I wasn’t the most engaging speaker. If I could make it through the ordeal without passing out, I’d consider the experience a success.
I apologize to anyone who sat through my generic speeches back in the pre-Eloqui days. Like most audiences, you were polite and encouraging. You undoubtedly attended my talk because you hoped you would come away with a new insight or fresh perspective. But because I followed a standard template, most likely you were bored and could predict what I’d say next.
It finally occurred to me that most people aren’t innately good at public speaking. The solution was right in front of me. I’d spent fifteen years directing performers to reach inside for emotional realism and sincerity. I needed to take my own advice.
Becoming an engaging speaker requires skill, courage, and an unwavering commitment to connect with an audience. This means incorporating your own perspective and personality into presentations. Because of my fear of making a mistake, I did the opposite. Like so many women speakers, I excised every unique element that would have made me memorable. No wonder my stage presence didn’t exude confidence and my presentations rarely seemed genuine.
Then something clicked. I remember it like it was yesterday, but years ago David and I were contracted to deliver a two-hour keynote speech titled, “What Actors Can Teach Litigators.” The room was packed with 400 attorneys from a prestigious national firm. We were center stage at the Beverly Hilton, where the Golden Globe and Emmy Awards have been telecast. Before that day, walking into that huge ballroom—even empty—would have paralyzed me.
There was also the added pressure of addressing attorneys. I knew the audience had high expectations and would question whether our talk was worth giving up their valuable billable hours. We were promoted as experts, and a lot was riding on that designation. Just thinking about it made my heart pound. I was afraid my internal critic would strangle any rational thought, and the presentation would be a disaster.
I decided that it was within me to change my approach, and engineer the perception I chose. With my determination and David’s encouragement, we adopted a new method of preparation. Instead of writing a script, we drafted an outline. Before the talk, we interviewed an attorney from the firm to determine what would be most valuable to our audience. We brainstormed anecdotes and decided which of us would lead each section. Then we rehearsed, without attempting to be perfect or investing our full energy. The night before the big day, I took a hot bath and slept seven blissful hours.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still obsess over the talk. It was like a mosquito buzzing around my ears, but this time the pest didn’t bite. Instead of focusing on the critic in my head, I imagined our success and employed performer techniques, including sense memory, to manage the anxiety (see chapter twelve, “Manage Anxiety and Deliver like a Pro,” for more on sense memory).
The morning of the presentation we arrived early to check out the space. Before entering the room, I thought about what I wanted to achieve. Just before our introduction, I did a breathing exercise to bring my heart rate back to normal. During the keynote, our outline stayed on the lectern. I was able to cover the entire stage, walking over casually to check my notes only when necessary. I made eye contact with the audience, embellished an anecdote or two, and on occasion injected personal comments that were well received.
About five minutes in, I began to have a good time. The positive response from the audience energized me. Their support gave me confidence. I discovered what actors mean when they say they owned the room during a great performance. It was thrilling—similar to the time I jumped out of an airplane and looked up to see the beautiful red, yellow, and blue colors of my parachute open against the sky!
I discovered what actors mean when they say they owned the room during a great performance.
Often speakers (like the old me) strive to educate an audience to prove their expertise or deliver in a manner they believe is expected of them. This takes an enormous amount of preparation, ramps up anxiety, and rarely achieves one’s intention. It’s much more powerful and effective to persuade an audience. Better yet, it takes the focus off the speaker and puts it where it belongs, squarely on the audience.
David spent many years as a professional actor. When I combined his knowledge with my experience directing actors, I realized I had the secret sauce. Great performers are masters of emotional persuasion. They understand Intention, the complexities of Roles, how to manage anxiety, tell a great story, move in a space, and turn any script into a gripping narrative.
Every professional actor knows that audiences connect with a performer who’s perceived as authentic and committed to the character she’s playing. Similarly in business, speakers who reveal something meaningful about themselves (or their take on a subject) can expect a high likability quotient. Audiences trust and respond to a speaker who provides a window into her thinking, even if they don’t agree with her.
As a former director, I know the value of practical techniques. It’s nearly impossible to follow the advice