I think there are all kinds of voices that work for the audience, as long as they feel real and communicate enough emotional energy to engage the interest.

A few vocal things that can get in the way are:

1. Uptalk. Rising intonations at the ends of sentences, making the speaker sound like a goofy teenager.

2. Glottal fry. Gargling your words. Grinding your vocal chords to make the sounds at the ends of words. That bubbling splashing frying sound that comes (mostly) from young women.

3. Mumbling. Failure to shape the consonants in your speech, and failure to project belief in what you’re saying. It’s both a mechanical and a psychological problem.

4. Speaking too fast. Not good when you’re speaking to senior leaders–makes you look nervous. Studies show you and your point of view are more likely to be “derogated” if you speak too quickly, although listeners tend to rate fast talkers as more “extroverted.”

5. Speaking too slowly. A much rarer problem. Makes you sound like you just fell off the back of a pumpkin truck. Kind of a country bumpkin pumpkin. Plus, you’re a stark contrast to all the fast talkers around you.

All of these things can be addressed and corrected with some basic voice training.

We have been helping speakers for over twenty years increase the persuasive impact of what they say and how they say it.

The voice may not demand the same intellectual resources as strategic messaging, but like it or not, it is required equipment if you want to move the mountain of corporate opinion.

We are judged by how we speak, write, and think…in that order.

And people will long remember what you sound like after they’ve forgotten what you said.

(Unless you happen to be like the speaker in the picture, in which case they will remember what you said and how you sounded.)

I just came back to work after dinner, where, over roast chicken and salad, my wife began to explain to me why some people try too hard.  

I felt obliged to listen, but I was also tired, and had consumed enough wine to permit myself to disengage and become impatient.  I waved my hand and said, “You’re losing me!”  She had hurt feelings.

Part of the problem was that the topic (“people who try too hard”) is a recurring interest of hers, and I automatically leapt to the conclusion that I was about to hear the same story I’ve heard for many years.

But in the spirit of full disclosure,  like many husbands, I am a selective listener.  If I’m reading, or watching TV, or thinking about something else, and my wife speaks to me, I am mindful of my tendency to listen for a split second, conclude that whatever she’s saying is not all that important, and throw up a smokescreen of grunts and nods while I turn off my ears.

This is not good for our marriage, and I sense  she has learned how to do the same thing to me–listen for a few seconds, generate a hypothesis about what I’m saying, and conclude that it’s a re-run that she doesn’t want to sit through. 

One explanation for this state of affairs is that we are, in fact, repeating ourselves, (thematically if not with the exact same words) and that we are now able to predict what the other person is going to say. 

Because what we are saying is predictable, we don’t pay much attention.  There’s nothing new coming out of our mouths–no new thoughts, no radical new insights–and so nothing much of interest.

We know how to fix this.  Skilled in effective dialogue, we will say to each other, “We need new thoughts, new experiences, new growth.  Let’s make it happen.”   And we will.  We will go to the theater, on trips, on vacations, engage in new activities with new people.   We will grow and prosper.

But when that’s over, we’ll have to get down to the real work: the cultivation of curiosity–about eachother–without judgment. 

I can hear us talking about that now.   I will say, predictably quoting Steven Covey, “We must first seek to understand, then to be understood,” and then I predict she will roll her eyes as if to say, “Not that old chestnut!”

And then we’ll really be up against it, and have to be still–still as water–until we get curiouser and curiouser.

Getting ready for Oscar night?

I am, and some memorable speeches from the past come to mind.  

Gwyneth Paltrow’s highly emotional acceptance speech  for her work in Shakespeare in Love was remarkable for her ability to verbalize in the midst of such emotion.

Have you seen Emma Thompson’s acceptance speech for the Golden Globe award for Sense and Sensibility?  Completely different from Gwynneth.  Funny, composed, completely in charge, and perfectly British.

Then there is Kate Winslet’s acceptance of her Golden Globe Award for her role in Revolutionary Road.  If you had read about it in the British papers, you would have thought that she bombed.

But when I watched it, I was mildly uncomfortable because she went on for so long, but I actually admired her authenticity and willingness to let her feelings out.

I’ve seen all the movies nominated for this year.  I’m rooting for Frost Nixon, and I’m getting out my popcorn.

This morning a woman told me that when she hosted a company radio show, she heard herself on tape and was horrified to hear how often she said “er” and “uhm.”  She resolved to stop.

The next day, while on the air, she heard herself  “ering and uhming” and began to have a dialogue with herself.  One voice was telling her that she was “ering and uhming” and the other voice was trying to talk to the audience through the microphone.  She described it as an impossible situation.

Athletes practice until their bodies know what to do.  Musicians practice until their fingers know what to do.  Why should speakers be any different?  If you have the habit of “ering and uhming” you need to practice speaking until you’ve created a new habit–the habit of flawless speech.

However, if you are obliged to perform during such a “practice period” in your life, you would be better off forgetting about your “ers and uhms” during performance and simply let your talent take over.

If you ride shotgun on your talent, as the radio announcer did, your conscious mind is trying to interfere with what should be a well-grooved habit.  Psychologists call this “conscious override.”  It’s the mind getting in the way of the talent.

Work on your skills in practice, but when it comes time to perform, give it your best shot.  When the performance is over, you can go back to ridding yourself of those “ers and uhms.”

Public speaking is a talent before it becomes a skill. A talent is a latent ability, something that is dormant inside you. When you work at it, it becomes a skill.

If you do have a potential talent for speaking and you work at it, you are likely to receive encouragement and recognition for your talent, which then makes you want to continue, which in turn helps you get better.

However, if you don’t have a talent for speaking, but nevertheless work at it without receiving encouragement and recognition, you are likely to give up, and will therefore not develop the skill.

The hard thing is to persist in the face of discouragement.

Churchill passed out when giving his first speech in the Commons.

FDR bombed over and over again when he was a young Secretary of the Navy. His wife Eleanor thought he was hopeless.

Woodrow Wilson had terrible nerves and worked like a fiend to overcome his fear.

And our own Bill Clinton was booed for his interminable speech at the 1988 Democratic convention.

Yet he, and all the others, went on to become highly respected communicators.

I feel like quoting someone famous on the subject of persisting.

Emerson: “Move confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you’ve imagined.”

Or the great Japanese folk saying: “Fall down seven times, get up eight.”

It’s the only way to sculpt talent into skill.

I once had a colleague who said that everyone is in two businesses: their own, and show biz. He didn’t go far enough. Every business is show business. Business would be impossible without acting skills. Theater artists have the talent to believe in the imaginary circumstances of the script and act so as to induce the audience to believe in the characters and the story. A business communicator must also believe in her product, idea, or service—and speak so as to create belief in others.

As a business speaker you have a better chance of making others believe in your idea, product, or service if you believe in them yourself.  If you don’t believe in your product, you’ve got to scratch and claw your way into belief. How? How do you hoist yourself into contagious belief? The simplest way is to rehearse.

Find the reasoning. Find the words. Find the attitude. Find the gestures that make you feel connected with yourself and the subject. If you’re not turning yourself on when you talk you’re turning the audience off.

Which is more convincing: a speaker’s conviction or her reasoning? Isn’t that the same as asking which blade in a pair of scissors does the cutting? You need both. Intelligent people will dismiss conviction without clear thinking. And reasoning without an emotional investment by the speaker is busywork—boring, pedantic, and inconsequential to all. You need both—reasoning and conviction.

Reason makes them think.  Emotion makes them act.

Rehearsing aloud, you acquire both. And they feed each other. You find words that bring your thoughts to life, and when your thoughts are lively, you grasp them with greater conviction and infuse them with passion. Oliver Wendell Holmes said, “Eloquence is reason set on fire.” Rehearsal can help you find the reason and set it on fire.

So what are the standard excuses that the business presenter makes when she says she can’t or won’t rehearse?

No time! (He’s making slides five minutes before show time, making his performance slide.)
No need! (She’s done the same talk a thousand times; her suit could make it, and often does.)
No sense! (He thinks rehearsal makes him stale. Without it, he’s cooked.)
No standards! (Everybody in her company/industry is mediocre. Why should she be any different?)
No ego! (He doesn’t want to experience the awkwardness and vulnerability of finding his own voice, alone or in front of colleagues. Wimp!)
No show! (She thinks showmanship is unprofessional, which smacks of sour grapes. She’s probably afraid she doesn’t have the gene.)
No guts! (If he doesn’t rehearse, he’ll have an excuse when his talks flab out and fail.)

A good presentation can make a career. A bad one can leave you clinging to the suburbs of success for years to come. Actors get a month; we only get a few days. Let us remember that business without show business is no business. Rehearsal makes our thinking crisper, our language more vivid, and our passion a better ally. Without rehearsal, we have no show. If you have any sense, you’ll rehearse.

For more on what constitutes preparing for important presentations, see Ford Harding’s Blog.

Like that moment in bowling, when your ball leaves two pins standing far apart, there are times when your audience is divided into two camps.

One half is knowledgeable about your area of expertise, while the other half is green.  Or, one half is interested in the science, while the other half is preoccupied with its business application. Or one half of your audience is eager to hear your thoughts, while the other half is not only indifferent, but cynical and disengaged. Remarks you prepare all seem appropriate for one group, but not the other.

What’s the best solution?

First of all, an audience divided in two is probably overly simplistic.  There are those who care about the topic, those who couldn’t care less, and those who are neutral.

Furthermore, certain types of people are most interested in the speaker’s position on the topic and the reasoning supplied to support that position.  Others are more interested in how to execute the idea, and still others on the values and beliefs that are embedded in the stated position.

Generally, when making a proposal, a speaker can expect some listeners to be with him, some opposed, and some to be undecided. As in American politics, there are lefties, righties, and those who vote both ways.

Teachers often say, “Teach to the middle,” suggesting that you can reach the greatest number of students that way.  This also suggests that you are willing to lose the top performers as well as those at the bottom of the class.  It also implies that by appealing to the middle, you follow the Pareto Principle, which says you get 80% of your results from 20% of your effort.

However, I think we can devise a better solution.  I have worked with many medical researchers who are presenting to venture capitalists and Wall Street analysts in order to raise money for their projects.  The audience in these situations is all over the map in terms of expertise. Some know a little, and some alot.

In these situations, I have found that it is helpful to think of the problem of a split shot audience as a problem of attention, not comprehension .  And the way to keep attention is to tell a dramatic story and use all the tools available to a good storyteller.

The first step for the speaker is to set the stage.  The speaker needs to describe the current situation in the disease state, the current standard of care, and perhaps a dab of history to describe how the standard evolved.

Next, the speaker needs to describe the unmet medical need, and the suffering, or financial burden, that is the result.  This has to be emotional in tone.  The speaker needs to make the audience feel the suffering and demonstrate his real concern.

Then, the speaker needs to paint the picture of how patients, or providers, or payors would benefit if only this problem would go away.

And only then, after he has helped the audience to understand the general situation, the terrible problem facing patients and the medical establishment, and painted a picture of what life could be like if only these problems could be overcome–only then does he introduce his new product and tell the story of how it works its wonders in the human body.

In other words, the speaker uses the basic tools of story-telling to make his presentation dramatic.  The basic tools of story-telling are setting, hero, problem, solution, climax, and resolution.

In this way, the skilled speaker engages everyone in the audience because the human mind is hard-wired to think in stories.  We tend to dismiss facts, but we are willing to suspend our disbelief when we hear stories, especially when they resonate with our previously held beliefs.

Furthermore, in my example, the scientific speaker can go into considerable detail if he has set up the story so that his molecule is the hero, riding into town, taking on the bad guys, and putting things right.  Listeners will stay focused because they’re interested in the drama.

And if he is careful to use analogies and metaphors to introduce and sum up complex information, then he will keep the attention of both the experts and the neophytes.  Humor sprinkled throughout can also keep people attentive during the denser parts of the talk.

For example, when I think of a particular cytokine that triggers the cascade of chronic inflamation that we know as rheumatoid arthritis, I often think of Osama bin Laden.  Both remain hidden, unharmed–manipulating levers to cause harm all over the world.  If only we could isolate both of them and knock them out! Then all the misguided minions–men and molecules–would stop inflicting pain on the world, and peace and ease would return to our lives.

Hardly scientific, I know.  But with a vivid and detailed description of how the disease works, it’s ultimately a story about a no-good cytokine–the ring-leader of a violent gang causing pain and suffering, and a heroic little drug who has a plan to get close enough to knock him out once and for all.

Who knows, it might inspire the venture capitalists to remember the pitch, and fund the effort to help the hero.

We often think that the placebo effect comes from the belief that a sugar pill is actual medicine, which leads us to the conclusion that if we believe something is good for us, we get a positive physiological response.

I read of a double-blind study of hotel chambermaids in Paris who were trying to lose weight. One arm of the study was given a real weight-loss product; another arm received a placebo; and a third was told that the work they did in cleaning the rooms was strenuous and burned a lot of calories. The third group lost the most weight.

While medical science continues to debate its causes, there is wide agreement that the placebo effect can also be caused by the attention of doctors and nurses. It is thought that the touching, caring, attention, and other interpersonal communication that is part of the therapeutic setting, along with the hopefulness and encouragement provided by the medical professionals, affect the mood, expectations, and beliefs of the patient, which in turn trigger physical changes such as release of endorphins.

This leads to an interesting parallel with presenting. If we approach an audience as a doctor would a patient; if we diagnose the problem that the audience faces, and prescribe a solution to their difficulty, could we not stimulate the placebo effect?

This would mean that our message would have to be audience-centric. We might not be able to ask the audience questions then and there, but we could describe what we know of their situation, and then, if we gain their agreement that the description is fair and accurate, we could then ask a rhetorical question, such as, “Given that you face these difficulties, what would be the best solution?”

At that point, we are, in essence, thinking aloud about their problem. Of course, we have composed and rehearsed our thoughts. But all our attention is on them as we explore various avenues forward, and because of that, all their attention is on us–the speaker.

And if, like a good doctor or nurse, we lean forward, and express caring and concern in our demeanor and voice, might we be able to trigger the placebo effect?

Yes, yes, I think so. We could have neurochemical impact! Endorphins would flood their bloodstream.

We wouldn’t be talking about ourselves, our companies, our products, our plans. We wouldn’t be doing data dumps. We wouldn’t be talking at them about US! We would be talking with them about them.

And as a result, we would appeal to them, not only intellectually and emotionally, but ethically and chemically as well. They would walk out singing our praises–high on the placebo effect.

And here’s the paradox. Our self-interest is served when we’re more interested in them and their issues than we are in ourselves and our information.

Of course, the body of our presentation would contain all the information we have to impart, but if we frame it around their concerns, we are focused on them, not us.

That’s not bedside manner. That’s platform skill at its greatest.

During the Clinton/Obama debate from California, Barack Obama seemed to get off to a good start, making his point (“I am the future, she is the past.”) at the end of his opening remarks. As I listened, I was made aware of the power of going first. I thought that Hillary Clinton would be at a disadvantage because she had to go second.

But then she began to speak, and I found myself even more deeply engaged than I had been listening to Senator Obama. She was confident, assertive, and crisp. But even more important, she was concrete. She used images that we could see in our mind’s eye. She made her point (“I have more experience”) better than Obama made his.

Let me illustrate this with passages from the transcript.

Senator Obama

After acknowledging the contributions of John Edwards to the political conversation in this election season, and announcing that he (Obama) has been and will be a friend to Senator Clinton, Senator Obama got down to his message:

“I believe we’re at a defining moment in our history. Our nation is at war; our planet is in peril. Families all across the country are struggling with everything from back-breaking health care costs to trying to stay in their homes. And at this moment, the question is: How do we take the country in a new direction? How do we get past the divisions that have prevented us from solving these problems year after year after year? I don’t think the choice is between black and white or it’s about gender or religion. I don’t think it’s about young or old. I think what is at stake right now is whether we are looking backwards or we are looking forwards. I think it is the past versus the future.”

In a nutshell, he’s saying this is an important election, we’ve got a host of problems to deal with, and I am the new guy with the new ideas, while Hillary is part of an old administration that caused deep divisions in the country and has already had her chance.

Senator Clinton

Hillary Clinton didn’t waste her opening moments when viewers would be most engaged: she got right into a story to illustrate her point, a story that enabled us to visualize the future. Here’s what she said.

“On January 20, 2009, the next president of the United States will be sworn in on the steps of the Capitol. I, as a Democrat, fervently hope you are looking at that next president. Either Barack or I will raise our hand and swear to uphold the Constitution of the United States.

And then, when the celebrations are over, the next president will walk into the Oval Office, and waiting there will be a stack of problems, problems inherited from a failed administration: a war to end in Iraq and a war to resolve in Afghanistan; an economy that is not working for the vast majority of Americans, but well for the wealthy and the well-connected; tens of millions of people either without health insurance at all or with insurance that doesn’t amount to much, because it won’t pay what your doctor or your hospital need…

… an energy crisis that we fail to act on at our peril; global warming, which the United States must lead in trying to contend with and reverse; and then all of the problems that we know about and the ones we can’t yet predict.

It is imperative that we have a president, starting on day one, who can begin to solve our problems, tackle these challenges, and seize the opportunities that I think await.

… there are still 37 million Americans who are living below the poverty line and many others barely hanging on above. So what we have to do tonight is to have a discussion about what each of us believes are the priorities and the goals for America. I think it’s imperative we have a problem-solver, that we roll up our sleeves.
I’m offering that kind of approach, because I think that Americans are ready once again to know that there isn’t anything we can’t do if we put our minds to it. So let’s have that conversation.”

In essence, she said “You want me walking into that room on January 9th, sitting down at that desk, rolling up my sleeves, and digging into that stack of problems. I am the practical, problem solving candidate, not the dreamer, the poet, or the guy whose never really run anything other than a social services agency.”

Much stronger than Obama, at least at that moment. Concrete, specific, story-like in structure.

I was impressed.

Recently, a client of mine, who is also a childhood friend, left me a voice mail saying that he did not think my short article on the power of gesture to create emotion was appropriate for the market I serve. Essentially, the short piece tried to make the point that speakers can alter their inner emotional state by finding a gesture to do (in private) that can move them out of fear and anxiety and into calmness and confidence.

He said that the suggestion seemed too “pop” and “retail” and inappropriate for sophisticated people. To him, it seemed like something he would find in an airline magazine.

I am grateful for his honesty, and for his trust that I would take his comment in the right way. I know he is watching out for my best interests.

I would like to try to make the point again (and here in public) in a way that makes it more palatable to him and those who might think as he does.

We all agree that just as feelings create physical gestures (happiness puts a spring in your step), gestures can stimulate feelings (raising your hands above your head and punching the air in triumph tends to lift a sagging mood.)

As speakers, we want to present ourselves as enthusiastic upbeat people who are excited about our material. If we happen to be nervous, a few fist pumps, or jumping jacks, or whatever, done out of sight of the audience, will serve to prime our emotional pumps.

Also, while sophisticated people may reject the idea that they could benefit from using creative gestures as an offstage tool to create more positive inner states (even though they admire dancers, actors and singers who use just those techniques to bring their material to life) they themselves might more effectively bring their own complex messages to life with a bit more expressiveness.

I taught acting for many years under the tutelage of Michael Chekhov and his disciples, and I now serve on the board of MICHA–the Michael Chekhov Association. Michael Chekhov was the nephew of Anton Chekhov, and he was considered the greatest actor of the 20th century in Russia.

Michael Chekhov disagreed with Stanislavsky about how actors should create the inner life of their characters. Stanislavsky suggested, for instance, that when called upon to cry, the actor should recall his “dying grandfather” or some other sad event, a technique he called sense memory. Michael Chekhov, on the other hand, suggested that creative gesture can stimulate sensation, and that sensation is the vessel into which we can pour our creative feelings.

I think both can work, but I tend to lean toward Chekhov. The technique of sense memory removes us from the immediate circumstances, and asks us to visualize something that occurred, or will occur, at another time and place.

Gesture, on the other hand, gives me an immediate physical and psychological jolt that arouses my vitality and sense of play. I can walk out on stage with an inner feeling that I have the energy and will to do my best.

The body can speak to the inner life, and when necessary, we can use gesture as a tool to create a more appealing and effective presence.