I work hard at being a good communicator.
It hasn’t always come easily to me. I wanted to be a writer from the time I knew what a book was. Before I even knew the alphabet I was folding pieces of paper together and scribbling what I thought was convincing cursive writing on the pages in order to tell my story. No illustrations. Just the story, like a big person book. My siblings got so tired of me asking them to read to me all the time that they actually taught me to read when I was two. By the time I was in kindergarten I was reading at a fourth grade level.
Fortunately, my school had some good English and grammar teachers who encouraged my love of words and writing.
But the speaking part? That was harder. I often felt like words got stuck somewhere around my throat chakra, and Goddess help me if I had to stand up in front of people and actually talk. I would be shaking so hard I couldn’t read my notes. Even after I started gigging, if I didn’t have a guitar or a fiddle in my hand, I couldn’t talk in front of people. Dear Gods no.
Radio training was great, though.
In college I got a work-study gig with our college radio station, all jazz public radio, and my first manager, Roger, gave me a lot of coaching. We had to do these horrid things called air-check tapes and then listen to them one-on-one in Roger’s office. It was torture. At first. Then slowly, it got better, both because I was getting used to the sound of my voice, and because I was starting to get better at talking.
But still, if I had to stand up in front of people and say ANYthing at all, yikes. Blanket-fort me.
The good news is, all that coaching, all the gigging and introducing songs, all the studying how performers who seemed so at ease worked, it all added up. Once I started teaching songwriting workshops, my fears began to evaporate. I knew the subject. and could riff on the topic with total confidence and fluidity for seemingly ever. And I learned about pacing and timing, when to be a comedian, when to be a teacher, when to stop talking and play a damn song, when to let attendees break into groups and work on their own . . . from doing it over and over.
After that long, drawn-out breakthrough (more like swimming through ultra-hold hair gel), other presentations started to happen, and I found that I was completely composed, relaxed, and ready. I still have work to do–dear Gods I have work to do–but the feedback I get tends to be overwhelmingly positive.
It has also given me a great sense of what makes presentations fantastic or lack-lustre, and the understanding to give meaningful feedback and coaching that helps the presenter get better.
To quote Marie Forleo, “there are four life-coaches born every minute,” and all of ’em are out there making videos, doing podcasts, blogging and sending out emails in bulk. I have ended up on the email lists of life-coaches I don’t even remember hearing of before. I have watched some cringe-worthy presentations, and some great ones. Here are some tips on making your presentations better and better.
- Stop fucking with your hair. I mean it. It makes you look disorganized and insecure. I clocked some coaches in video presentations at 2 and 3 times per minute fucking with their hair. If your hair is in your face or in your way, deal with it and be done. It undermines your message of empowerment to be coming off as a woman who can’t manage her own hair. Stop it. Watch some Marie Forleo, some Danielle LaPorte. Fabulous hair, no fuckery.
- Are you asking a question or making a statement? Because your voice is going up at the end of about half your sentences? It’s like saying, “you know?” in the middle of every sentence, which I have also heard some very famous coaches and speakers do in interviews. It is a way of getting people to affirm your message by nodding or agreeing, which is, frankly a little manipulative. It is a bad habit that comes from insecurity. I would hope if you are a coach that you are completely confident about your message. Have you ever listened to a Master speaking? There is no questioning. Their voices don’t even rise in pitch when they are actually asking a question. They declare something, and they honestly don’t give two shits whether you agree with them. They know what they have to say is the shit.
- Not everything is awesome. Only some things qualify. For example, seeing the Aurora Borealis. Watching the sunset over the Rockies. The Grand Canyon. Driving through the Big Horn mountains and realizing that you have traveled back in time by nearly a million years. Being out in the desert at night looking up at more stars than you ever thought possible. Those things are awesome. Not the salad you had for lunch. Not the blouse you got on sale. Not the way your barista drew a little heart in foam on your latte this morning. Nope. None of those things are worthy of your sacred sense of fucking awe. There are many adjectives you can choose from. Give awesome a much needed break.
- Be human. People who are really passionate, really geeked about what they do, don’t always look pretty and perfect. Sometimes they frown, sometimes their brow furrows in thought, sometimes they need to show their anger, their sorrow, their outrage. The idea that enlightened, spiritually developed people don’t get pissed or blindsided by tragedy, or are too cool and collected to allow mundane things like injustice and human suffering to bother them, is total bullshit. The more enlightened the master, the more compassion she has, or should have, for the suffering of the world, and the angrier she gets when horrible people do horrible things to other people. Especially people who can’t do much about it. So show us your compassion, your messy, beautiful humanity. Let us see your sorrow, your anger, even your fear. Let us see the beating heart beneath that composure. And let us see that even though you are pissed or hurting, you are carrying on with grace, gratitude and humility. Teach us that we can work through anything, too.
- Just because we are all imperfect, doesn’t mean we can’t do our best. Best is a moving target. Some days it’s rocking a classroom, watching a client breakthrough to a new high, or accomplishing a ton of work effortlessly in a short time. Some days it’s finding pants. Most days it is somewhere between those two extremes. Learning how to manage our energy level so we can shine on the days when people are depending on us, or on the days when we are doing interviews or making videos or having photo sessions, is one of the things we’re supposed to be teaching our clients. Walking our talk means practicing the very same self-care we teach them. Bring your best to whatever you do, even if it is just sitting in the comfy chair in pajamas all day. Do what you know how to do to nurture and nourish yourself so you can be at your biggest rock-star best when it counts.
Interested in going deeper? Speak Like a Goddess is a 4-week training that helps you bust bad habits and speak with total confidence and command.