When public speaking is unavoidable, these women tend to craft presentations that are polite, generic, and middle of the road. They take a nonconfrontational position to avoid being challenged. In other words, regardless of all their experience, massive preparation and agony over what to say, women practically guarantee that their talk will be mediocre and forgettable.
But that isn’t the end of their pain. Before delivering their presentation, these women find conflicting thoughts vying for their attention and keeping many of them up at night. Their concerns are: “What made me think I could do this? What if someone asks me a question I can’t answer? If I take a contrary position, will I be perceived as too aggressive, too ambitious, or not a team player?”
Although we do our best to deflect negative judgments and assessments from others, the strongest critic often resides within.
If your public speaking isn’t as effective as it could be, or you haven’t achieved what you believe is possible with your career, you can’t always blame someone else. What we tell ourselves can be equally damaging. What we believe becomes the truth. So let’s dispel the myths that negatively affect our behavior, so we can move on and resume our path to success.
PUBLIC SPEAKING MYTHS
Myth #1: You’re Born a Great Public Speaker
Did you master law, accounting, interior decorating, banking, or fitness training overnight? Of course not. The entry fee in any field requires education, certification, and often a degree. Why do we think that being proficient at public speaking or communication is something we’re born with? Or, that the first time we stand up in front of an audience or potential client, we will receive rave reviews? Please!
Becoming a great presenter takes commitment, introspection, inviting critical feedback, making mistakes, and incorporating lessons learned. This is why I won’t let a client complete an exercise if she begins with a traditional opening or reports on her topic from a 1,000-foot level—instead of investing herself in the subject and making it her own. As a former director, I know to nip a bad performance in the bud. The last thing you want is for a client to embrace an outdated mode of approaching her material, and have that scored into memory. At the same time, I need to be positive and encouraging, because I am asking the speaker-as-performer to move outside her comfort zone. I’m acutely aware that no matter how difficult and uncomfortable it may seem at first, the outcome is well worth it. And once learned, the new behavior is what characterizes seasoned veterans and successful professionals.
In Outliers: The Story of Success, author Malcolm Gladwell quoted neurologist Daniel Levitin as saying that “ten thousand hours of practice is required to achieve the level of mastery associated with being a world-class expert—in anything.”33 Fortunately, it doesn’t take 10,000 hours to become a great communicator. As a trainer, I’ve seen vast improvement in only a few sessions or workshops. Because many standard business presentations are truly awful, the bar is set so low that even small differences can make speakers noticeably better than everyone else. Trust me—if you have an important presentation coming up, you’ll be motivated to improve quickly.
This process brings back memories of alpine skiing. I had a real attitude about anyone who preferred downhill over cross-country. My arrogance was obnoxious. I’d hold forth that the sport of downhill skiing—if you could call it a sport—was more style than substance. Besides, if you wanted exercise, why ride a chair to the top of a mountain and let gravity escort you downhill?
But whenever I went cross-country skiing, I’d purposely seek out the highest hill, ski straight down, and then herringbone up to the top, just to ski down again. My friends laughed and asked me why I didn’t put on real skis and find a real mountain. When I finally took their advice and skied down a run at Purgatory Resort in Durango, Colorado, I couldn’t believe how much fun it was. That first morning I made fifteen runs on beginner trails. After lunch, and a couple of glasses of wine, my friends persuaded me to tackle intermediate slopes.
As I took the chairlift up the mountain, I knew I was in trouble. The enormous moguls were terrifying, the slope was incredibly steep, and huge patches were covered in ice. I managed to get off the chair and stand at the top of the run. But without lessons, I had no idea how to navigate the mountain or use the edges of my skis to turn or slow myself down. My heart pounded in my ears, and the fear was palpable. My whole body stiffened, even though I knew that would only increase the possibility of injury.
Fear is a monstrous inhibitor, whether you’re facing a steep slope or a critical presentation. It can shut you down or persuade you to avoid a new experience. One of the biggest obstacles holding women back when it comes to public speaking is anxiety. If you avoid speaking because your heart pumps faster, your mouth goes dry, or your brain tells you to run, the fear will keep you from reaching your full potential. Consequently, it’s all the more satisfying when you face your fears head-on.
If you avoid speaking because your heart pumps faster, your mouth goes dry, or your brain tells you to run, the fear will keep you from reaching your full potential.
There’s something exhilarating about being on the edge, not totally in control, yet so focused that the problems of the world fade away. That afternoon, on my first intermediate run, I made it to the bottom, a bit bruised and battered but in one piece. And I committed to learning the necessary skills so that I could ski more challenging slopes and enjoy the experience.
Over the next few years, with instruction and lots of practice, I became a capable intermediate skier. Had I stayed on the bunny slope and never pushed myself, I would have missed some of the greatest memories of my life.
To become outstanding presenters, we need to push ourselves to take risks—even if we sometimes fail. That includes giving a talk without PowerPoint, speaking extemporaneously (or with only a few minutes to prepare), and moving from behind the lectern to face the audience with nothing between us and them.
Start by making simple changes. Since the audience pays attention to verbs, make a conscious effort to incorporate strong, active verbs when engaging an audience, describing your process, or telling a story. For example, “helped,” “worked with,” “assisted,” and “tried” are weak verbs. We can’t picture their function, and we don’t associate them with definitive, decisive actions. Stronger verbs include “implemented,” “designed,” “executed,” and “persuaded.” Use active verbs to be seen as a powerful professional.
Clients tell me they often use general, imprecise words or phrases to be polite and inclusive, or because they believe the audience understands their meaning. But unless the listener can picture what it is you’re saying, I guarantee that you’ll lose their attention. Just because you think you’re clear doesn’t mean that anyone else has the same idea or definition of a concept. Define terms that might be unfamiliar to someone in the audience. Use concrete language and visual specifics to describe your concept, product, or services. For example, can you picture “opportunity,” “creative problem solving,” “brand,” or “the vision for your company?” Exactly. So the next time you hear yourself use a generality, follow it up with “like,” “such as,” or “for example.” In the future, replace every generality with a specific example. When we see it, we’re much more likely to believe it.
Once you commit to incorporating new techniques into your speaking, you can take a page from Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking by Malcolm Gladwell. He wrote that individuals who are seen as quick thinkers or have rapid cognition employ “training, rules, and rehearsal.”34
I’ve yet to meet anyone who was born a great speaker. But I’ve coached