The words said, “I am deeply sorry.” But the media and millions of online and television viewers heard: “My feet are to the fire. Let me say what I have to say and get out of here as quickly as I can.”
Rep. Anthony Weiner’s “Naughty Tweets” press conference yesterday was the latest installment in Washington’s sexual follies. This performance was long on media-inspired mea culpas, however, but short on sincerity. We knew that by the voice of the speaker, or rather, we never heard his voice at all.
The Pack Was Left Hungry
The leading actor in yesterday’s drama was late in arriving, and the reporters could only roam the room restlessly, murmuring. When the sacrificial lamb approached the stage, they followed hungrily, in a pack. But what they found was lean fare, and unsatisfying.
In all speeches and presentations, visuals and vocals dominate. What audiences see and hear reveals practically everything they need to know about who you are as a speaker and how you feel about yourself and your topic. Yesterday, Mr. Weiner gave all of us virtually nothing to see. He read from notes, hardly glancing up at his listeners, without any facial expression. There was no visual component to give his presentation life.
Words, Words, Words
In Hamlet, Polonius asks: “What do you read, my lord?” Hamlet, feigning madness, answers: “Words, words, words.”
Like the troubled prince, Rep. Weiner gave us nothing else. Reading emotionlessly from a manuscript, he left his audience without anyone actually talking to them.
The expressions were standard-issue: merely correct phrases, hollowly spoken: “inappropriate conversations,” “explicit nature,” “sadly,” “I haven’t told the truth.” And even more noticeably empty of emotion: “I’m deeply sorry,” “I apologize,” “deeply ashamed,” and “my terrible judgment and actions.”
The more we read on stage, the less we say. And relating more strongly to a manuscript than an audience will never bring us sympathy. When we lead with our voice rather than our script, however, allowing our feelings to emerge as we speak slowly and meaningfully--when we speak from the heart--an audience will respond with genuine feeling and, sometimes, with affection.
189 Words Sounds like a Lie
Would you race through a written statement if you had something heartfelt to say to loved ones you had let down? Apart from Mr. Weiner’s expressionless delivery, his pace let us hear his lack of sincerity.
To place his performance in context, I compared his speaking rate (i.e., words per minute) with four other prominent Democratic speakers: Harry Truman, John F. Kennedy, Barack Obama, and Barney Frank. I included Mr. Frank specifically because he is a conspicuously rapid speaker.
The average American speaks at 120 to 180 words per minute. Here are the speech rates for the politicians I compared to Rep. Weiner:
• Harry Truman (“Lobster Speech”): 145 words per minute
• John F. Kennedy (April 21, 1961 press conference): 116 words per minute
• Barack Obama (December 7, 2010 press conference): 149 words per minute
• Barney Frank (January 9, 2009 press conference): 193 words per minute
And Rep. Weiner’s speech rate at his Naughty Tweets press conference? -- 189 words per minute. I also compared this rate with an earlier speech of Mr. Weiner’s on the House floor (“Weiner rips Republican Party”), and found a speech rate of 169 words per minute.
Speech rate alone does not determine truthfulness or sincerity. But racing through a confessional speech at a clip that exceeds the national norm is odd, to say the least. Without pauses to indicate reflection, or to allow your deep emotional commitment to sink in; with only the shallow cadences of someone reading a script, an apology will sound perfunctory and hollow. Such was the case with Rep. Weiner, who allowed words on a page to smother his conscience.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
To Overcome Speaking Fear, Throw Away Your Mask
Let’s face it—for audiences, the message and the messenger are usually the same thing. You are the message your audience receives as much as anything you say. So you’d better be aware of the impression you’re broadcasting!
First, understand that you're a natural performer. As sociologist Erving Goffman reminded us in his 1972 book, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, each of us plays many roles in our daily lives.
We shape ourselves, that is, to meet the needs of the audience we’re with at the moment. The “you” shopping in the supermarket, for instance, is a different person from the “you” on a first date, or the one explaining to your boss the reasons you deserve a raise.
This knowledge, that we play different roles even in a typical day, should be a liberating thought. By acknowledging that a speech situation is simply one of the many “performances” we give every day of our lives, we can embrace each such opportunity instead of fearing it.
In other words: there really is nothing unusual or momentous about speaking in public. We’re always giving some kind of performance or other in our lives. Public speaking just gives us the opportunity to do it all with a bit more pizzazz!
Reveal Your True Self
One of the fascinating things about speaking in public is that it reveals so much about who we are as human beings. Even as a former actor, I would have to work ferociously hard to hide my true nature when I talk to people about something that really matters to me.
And if I did, all of my focus and concentration would be directed inward instead of where it needs to be: on keeping my audience actively engaged with my critical message.
The problem with being this comfortable with self-exposure occurs when we perceive a speaking situation as something “different” and intimidating. That’s when we become nervous and afraid; and in response, we slip on our presentation masks or don our invisible protective armor.
In other words—we temporarily become someone we really aren’t. And audiences sense it immediately.
We need to throw away the mask, to let our true self come through for our sake and our listeners’. We need, in other words, to remain vulnerable.
You may think that’s too hard a task to accomplish in front of other professionals and perhaps complete strangers. But the opposite is true. Being honest with an audience makes everything easier on both sides.
Hiding from who you really are is much harder work for you and your listeners.
First, understand that you're a natural performer. As sociologist Erving Goffman reminded us in his 1972 book, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, each of us plays many roles in our daily lives.
We shape ourselves, that is, to meet the needs of the audience we’re with at the moment. The “you” shopping in the supermarket, for instance, is a different person from the “you” on a first date, or the one explaining to your boss the reasons you deserve a raise.
This knowledge, that we play different roles even in a typical day, should be a liberating thought. By acknowledging that a speech situation is simply one of the many “performances” we give every day of our lives, we can embrace each such opportunity instead of fearing it.
In other words: there really is nothing unusual or momentous about speaking in public. We’re always giving some kind of performance or other in our lives. Public speaking just gives us the opportunity to do it all with a bit more pizzazz!
Reveal Your True Self
One of the fascinating things about speaking in public is that it reveals so much about who we are as human beings. Even as a former actor, I would have to work ferociously hard to hide my true nature when I talk to people about something that really matters to me.
And if I did, all of my focus and concentration would be directed inward instead of where it needs to be: on keeping my audience actively engaged with my critical message.
The problem with being this comfortable with self-exposure occurs when we perceive a speaking situation as something “different” and intimidating. That’s when we become nervous and afraid; and in response, we slip on our presentation masks or don our invisible protective armor.
In other words—we temporarily become someone we really aren’t. And audiences sense it immediately.
We need to throw away the mask, to let our true self come through for our sake and our listeners’. We need, in other words, to remain vulnerable.
You may think that’s too hard a task to accomplish in front of other professionals and perhaps complete strangers. But the opposite is true. Being honest with an audience makes everything easier on both sides.
Hiding from who you really are is much harder work for you and your listeners.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Faith in Our Own Voice: The Lesson of "The King's Speech"
In the marvelous new film “The King’s Speech,” speech therapist Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush) describes how he began practicing his profession. In post-World War I Australia, some soldiers suffering psychological injuries could no longer speak. Desperate, their friends and loved ones sought out anyone who could help. They found themselves enlisting the aid of a second-rate amateur actor (Mr. Logue), who understood the soldiers’ dilemma.
Explaining all of this prior to his coronation to King George VI of England, a stammerer and Logue’s patient, the speech specialist says:
“I had to give them faith in their own voice. I had to let them know friends were listening.”
To those of us who lack confidence in our public speaking skills, Lionel Logue’s reassurance still has meaning: Friends are listening. We call them audiences.
Yet his first remark is even more powerful: All of us—whether we make sales presentations, give pep talks to football players at half-time, or deliver the State of the Union Address—need to have faith in our own voice. It is this that gives us the legitimacy to deliver our speeches. This is the source of our strength and the badge of our uniqueness. And it is the reason every one of us has the sheer inborn talent to persuade and inspire listeners.
Your Voice is Exceptional
During the two hours of “The King’s Speech,” we watch Bertie, the future George VI, struggling to find his voice. Surely, we might think, a member of the British royal family and the second in line to the throne would possess a voice of majesty, one that would move a nation in its pronouncements.
But it’s more complicated than that. And simpler.
Bertie has that voice, but it’s long been lost to him—numbed into silence by humiliation and abuse at the hands of his father, George V. To find it again is a frightening journey in which Bertie must confront his feelings of inadequacy with perseverance and bravery, which is what the plot of “The King’s Speech” is all about.
At the same time, he is marvelously fortunate, because what he seeks is simply his own true voice. He needn’t search the world for that voice, for it is always at hand. Best of all: it is exactly the right voice. All of England and the Commonwealth is waiting to hear it, and all Bertie has to do is set it free.
Like Bertie, like the shell-shocked Australian soldiers, all of us have the same challenge and the same advantage. We need the faith to find and set our own voice free; but we can gain comfort from the knowledge that it is the right voice. No one—not the King of England himself!—can speak in our voice and give audiences what they came to hear.
Churchill and the Power of Simplicity
What “The King’s Speech” demonstrates so well, is the struggle that ensues when we lose our voice and must try to get it back. It is usually a long journey. In our childhoods, we performed with abandon, eager to play kings and queens without the slightest self-consciousness or fear. What 6-year-old would be “afraid” to play Sir Lancelot or Cleopatra?
But things get complicated as we grow older, sometimes through no fault of our own, sometimes with our help. And so it is with our voice. Speaking with our authentic voice is as easy as acting. If we believe something with all our heart, we act as if it is true, and our actions demonstrate the truth of that thing.
Actors, then, simplify affairs—and so must we when we speak. One of the interesting plot elements in “The King’s Speech” is the presence of Winston Churchill, soon to be Prime Minister as England faces imminent war with Germany. Churchill above all speakers understood the force of simplicity. The plain, powerful language in his speeches demonstrates this. But so does his approach in speaking.
Churchill never complicated things when he spoke. Listen on CD to his first radio address as Prime Minister in May of 1940. As the air battle against Germany raged, Churchill didn’t allow his rhetoric to soar into the rarified air of a free people resisting implacable totalitarianism. He spoke of dogfights, bombs being dropped on oil refineries, and stubborn resistance to an effort to dominate the world. His delivery, too, is slow, simple, commonplace. There is no need to reach for the sun when you are already basking in its light, and only have to remind everyone to see it.
Simple language expressing extraordinary ideas: that was Churchill’s formula. And that was his voice, unadorned and eloquent in its simplicity.
Churchill didn’t need to sound like someone different from himself to gain the admiration of listeners. Neither did Bertie, as he finally understood. And neither do you or I, in our speeches and presentations.
Explaining all of this prior to his coronation to King George VI of England, a stammerer and Logue’s patient, the speech specialist says:
“I had to give them faith in their own voice. I had to let them know friends were listening.”
To those of us who lack confidence in our public speaking skills, Lionel Logue’s reassurance still has meaning: Friends are listening. We call them audiences.
Yet his first remark is even more powerful: All of us—whether we make sales presentations, give pep talks to football players at half-time, or deliver the State of the Union Address—need to have faith in our own voice. It is this that gives us the legitimacy to deliver our speeches. This is the source of our strength and the badge of our uniqueness. And it is the reason every one of us has the sheer inborn talent to persuade and inspire listeners.
Your Voice is Exceptional
During the two hours of “The King’s Speech,” we watch Bertie, the future George VI, struggling to find his voice. Surely, we might think, a member of the British royal family and the second in line to the throne would possess a voice of majesty, one that would move a nation in its pronouncements.
But it’s more complicated than that. And simpler.
Bertie has that voice, but it’s long been lost to him—numbed into silence by humiliation and abuse at the hands of his father, George V. To find it again is a frightening journey in which Bertie must confront his feelings of inadequacy with perseverance and bravery, which is what the plot of “The King’s Speech” is all about.
At the same time, he is marvelously fortunate, because what he seeks is simply his own true voice. He needn’t search the world for that voice, for it is always at hand. Best of all: it is exactly the right voice. All of England and the Commonwealth is waiting to hear it, and all Bertie has to do is set it free.
Like Bertie, like the shell-shocked Australian soldiers, all of us have the same challenge and the same advantage. We need the faith to find and set our own voice free; but we can gain comfort from the knowledge that it is the right voice. No one—not the King of England himself!—can speak in our voice and give audiences what they came to hear.
Churchill and the Power of Simplicity
What “The King’s Speech” demonstrates so well, is the struggle that ensues when we lose our voice and must try to get it back. It is usually a long journey. In our childhoods, we performed with abandon, eager to play kings and queens without the slightest self-consciousness or fear. What 6-year-old would be “afraid” to play Sir Lancelot or Cleopatra?
But things get complicated as we grow older, sometimes through no fault of our own, sometimes with our help. And so it is with our voice. Speaking with our authentic voice is as easy as acting. If we believe something with all our heart, we act as if it is true, and our actions demonstrate the truth of that thing.
Actors, then, simplify affairs—and so must we when we speak. One of the interesting plot elements in “The King’s Speech” is the presence of Winston Churchill, soon to be Prime Minister as England faces imminent war with Germany. Churchill above all speakers understood the force of simplicity. The plain, powerful language in his speeches demonstrates this. But so does his approach in speaking.
Churchill never complicated things when he spoke. Listen on CD to his first radio address as Prime Minister in May of 1940. As the air battle against Germany raged, Churchill didn’t allow his rhetoric to soar into the rarified air of a free people resisting implacable totalitarianism. He spoke of dogfights, bombs being dropped on oil refineries, and stubborn resistance to an effort to dominate the world. His delivery, too, is slow, simple, commonplace. There is no need to reach for the sun when you are already basking in its light, and only have to remind everyone to see it.
Simple language expressing extraordinary ideas: that was Churchill’s formula. And that was his voice, unadorned and eloquent in its simplicity.
Churchill didn’t need to sound like someone different from himself to gain the admiration of listeners. Neither did Bertie, as he finally understood. And neither do you or I, in our speeches and presentations.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Putting Your Public Speaking Fear Into Perspective
Fear of public speaking can be personally and professionally devastating. Not only does it diminish your speaking pleasure. It can delay your professional advancement, disturb your peace of mind, and even disrupt your sleep.
If speaking anxiety has been a nagging worry of yours for years, why not spend a few minutes now trying to find some resolution? What follows are some thoughts on how you can put your public speaking fear into perspective—as indeed, you must do if you are to conquer public speaking phobia.
Understand, please, that everyone has a slightly different experience when it comes to fear of public speaking. Some of us get nervous beforehand and fixate on the upcoming speaking situation. We might have trouble concentrating on tasks as the day gets closer. But others don't experience such anticipatory anxiety; instead, their symptoms appear when they're delivering their speech, when self-consciousness and feelings of exposure can become severe.
Physical Symptoms and Mental Games
Physical symptoms, on the other hand, are quite common among fearful speakers. Sweaty palms, a shaky voice, a heart that seems to be trying to break out of the chest, dry mouth, and a distancing effect where we seem separated from our audience (or even believe that we can't see them), are all symptoms of public speaking fear that manifest themselves physically.
Of course, we also play mental games with ourselves. An interior dialogue, in which we push all of our own hot buttons, often takes place. Once that happens, our most important task—focusing on our message and our listeners—becomes virtually impossible to carry out.
"They don't like me."
"They can see that I'm nervous."
"I know I'm going to go blank and forget everything I'm supposed to say." And:
"Oh, God, I hate this. I just want to get this over with!"
Do any of these sentiments strike home?
Worst of all, we may practice avoidance behavior, staying away from public speaking altogether. So what if it makes us change our major in college, limits our career choices, and keeps us from getting promoted? Anything is better than going through that nightmare again! Isn't it?
The good news is that nervousness connected to public speaking is okay, and even beneficial. Without those butterflies in the stomach, we run the danger of becoming too placid and mellow—without any of the edge or energy that make a presentation engaging for audiences. It's only when the balance tips too far in the direction of excessive activation that nervousness becomes a debilitating fear. At that point, fear makes us irrational.
Don't Give Fear an Opportunity
In public speaking, irrationality can lead us to conclusions that are simply not grounded in reality, so that we practice a kind of magical thinking. Just because we feel anxious and nervous, for instance, doesn't mean that our audience is responding the way we think they are. The chances are good that they're not even noticing our nervousness!
Being nervous doesn't ensure a bad performance, either, as we also sometimes "magically" think. Even in a worst-case situation, where 3 or 4 people out of a hundred may be negatively biased against us, should that change our behavior? We should talk instead to the other 96 or 97 percent of audience members who are interested!
We may love to beat up on ourselves, but our audiences really are not looking for an opportunity to join the fight. They usually are genuinely interested in what we have to say.
This kind of negative self-talk is your fear speaking, and fear is a liar. Fear is out to undermine your strength, however it can. Don't give it the opportunity.
If speaking anxiety has been a nagging worry of yours for years, why not spend a few minutes now trying to find some resolution? What follows are some thoughts on how you can put your public speaking fear into perspective—as indeed, you must do if you are to conquer public speaking phobia.
Understand, please, that everyone has a slightly different experience when it comes to fear of public speaking. Some of us get nervous beforehand and fixate on the upcoming speaking situation. We might have trouble concentrating on tasks as the day gets closer. But others don't experience such anticipatory anxiety; instead, their symptoms appear when they're delivering their speech, when self-consciousness and feelings of exposure can become severe.
Physical Symptoms and Mental Games
Physical symptoms, on the other hand, are quite common among fearful speakers. Sweaty palms, a shaky voice, a heart that seems to be trying to break out of the chest, dry mouth, and a distancing effect where we seem separated from our audience (or even believe that we can't see them), are all symptoms of public speaking fear that manifest themselves physically.
Of course, we also play mental games with ourselves. An interior dialogue, in which we push all of our own hot buttons, often takes place. Once that happens, our most important task—focusing on our message and our listeners—becomes virtually impossible to carry out.
"They don't like me."
"They can see that I'm nervous."
"I know I'm going to go blank and forget everything I'm supposed to say." And:
"Oh, God, I hate this. I just want to get this over with!"
Do any of these sentiments strike home?
Worst of all, we may practice avoidance behavior, staying away from public speaking altogether. So what if it makes us change our major in college, limits our career choices, and keeps us from getting promoted? Anything is better than going through that nightmare again! Isn't it?
The good news is that nervousness connected to public speaking is okay, and even beneficial. Without those butterflies in the stomach, we run the danger of becoming too placid and mellow—without any of the edge or energy that make a presentation engaging for audiences. It's only when the balance tips too far in the direction of excessive activation that nervousness becomes a debilitating fear. At that point, fear makes us irrational.
Don't Give Fear an Opportunity
In public speaking, irrationality can lead us to conclusions that are simply not grounded in reality, so that we practice a kind of magical thinking. Just because we feel anxious and nervous, for instance, doesn't mean that our audience is responding the way we think they are. The chances are good that they're not even noticing our nervousness!
Being nervous doesn't ensure a bad performance, either, as we also sometimes "magically" think. Even in a worst-case situation, where 3 or 4 people out of a hundred may be negatively biased against us, should that change our behavior? We should talk instead to the other 96 or 97 percent of audience members who are interested!
We may love to beat up on ourselves, but our audiences really are not looking for an opportunity to join the fight. They usually are genuinely interested in what we have to say.
This kind of negative self-talk is your fear speaking, and fear is a liar. Fear is out to undermine your strength, however it can. Don't give it the opportunity.
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