Life After PowerPoint!

They say, “Experience is the best teacher.” But it ain’t so.

Experience, in and by itself, doesn’t teach anything. Experience is an opportunity for learning.

The experience of being a parent, for example, does not necessarily give people special insight or wisdom. It doesn’t inevitably make them more loving, patient, or understanding. Sadly, all too many parents are self-absorbed, negligent, or abusive. Being a parent doesn’t, on its own, teach people anything; it puts them in a situation, which has its own demands and rewards, where they can learn — or not learn – how to be a person worthy of being called a mother or a father.

The same is true about learning how to speak.

On the one hand, you have to get up and give speeches. There’s nothing like the experience of being in front of an audience and giving it your best shot. (That’s one reason why I often recommend that people look into Toastmasters.)

On the other hand, giving speeches — even lots of them — doesn’t necessarily make you a good speaker. I listen to experienced speakers all the time who are disorganized, confusing, and boring. Maybe you do, too.

So how do you learn from your experience?

First, observe other speakers. And get critical. By critical, I don’t mean “inclined to find fault or to judge with severity.” I mean “using skillful judgment to determine something’s value or worth.”

Pay special attention to good speakers. And notice what they’re doing. If they lose you or confuse you, ask yourself what happened. Don’t blame yourself. Try to figure out why you got lost or what they said that didn’t make sense to you. And when you get caught up in what they’re saying, take a step back and analyze what they’re doing. How are they relating to the audience? Do they tell stories? Do they use humor? If so, what kind? And pay attention to speakers who aren’t so good.

For example, there’s a speaker I hear rather often. She’s prepared and she has good things to say. But I’m almost always bored. It’s as if she’s lulling me to sleep. One day I decided that since I had to listen to her anyway, I would use the time to figure out what she was doing that I found so sleep-inducing. And I noticed two things. First, she was reading her speech word for word. It’s hard to project energy and vitality when you’re reading a speech. Some people can do it. Most can’t. And second, she had written her speech for the eyes, not for the ears. She used long, complex sentences. They would be fine if you were reading them in a book or a journal, but not fine if you were listening to them. (Okay, I’ll confess it: I’m a fanatic. I can’t simply say someone’s sentences are too long. I had to count how many words were in each sentence. So for three or four minutes, I counted. And I found that her sentences were 45 to 50 words long. And she used, on average, five phrases per sentence!)

So observe good speakers and less riveting speakers. And pay attention to what they’re doing, to what works and what doesn’t work. Ask yourself how you can apply the lessons you’ve learned from them. (I’m not suggesting, by the way, that you imitate them.)

Second, get feedback from people you trust about your own speaking.

I give that piece of advice with some trepidation. Much of the feedback I’ve received over the years and have heard other people receive has been counterproductive. People — even well-meaning, intelligent people — can give some stupid advice about speaking.

Here’s what I do. When people say something nice or not so nice about a speech I’ve given, I ask them to be specific. What did I do or say that they liked or disliked. Where in my speech did I grab their attention or turn them off? What was I doing at that moment? How did they perceive it? How did it make them feel? And I listen real carefully. Then, they go on to tell me how I could fix it, and I listen less carefully. All too often people give advice about how they would do something. They don’t have the ability or the insight to help me do what I do better.

Listen to people’s advice and analyze it. Try it out if it makes sense.

Finally, take responsibility for your own learning. (That’s the theme that runs through my first two pieces of advice.) Observe others, analyze what they do, seek advice, listen, reflect, experiment. Let your experience be the classroom. But be your own teacher.

What about you? How do you learn best to be a good speaker?

A great post from the people at CreativityWorks about metaphors and their misuse got me thinking. It is truly worth reading. (I’m using some of its insights and going off on my own tangent, so don’t blame them fo what you read here.)

Metaphors would seem to be the antidote to business buzz words, which are often abstract and imprecise.

Take ROI as example. “Return on Investment” once had a very precise meaning in financial services. It meant — and still means — according to Investopedia: “A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or to compare the efficiency of a number of different investments. To calculate ROI, the benefit (return) of an investment is divided by the cost of the investment; the result is expressed as a percentage or a ratio.” There’s even a formula you can use to calculate the ROI.

Now days ROI has lost its specificity and people in all different fields use it simply to mean “making more money (from your investment, your project or program, your effort, your time) than you put into it.” It has become, in other words, corporate speak.

You would think that metaphors, which are by their very nature concrete and specific, would be more effective and powerful. But they’re not. At least, not the ones that are so commonly used in business.

A good metaphor compares one thing — an unknown or ill-defined or abstract thing — to something else — something the listeners know, something that is concrete and specific. A good metaphor doesn’t need to be explained, since its very purpose is to explain or illustrate something else.

Which brings me to the metaphors that business people love. They all conjure up images, which is the idea of a metaphor, but they all too often fail to add insight. Their meaning isn’t immediately apparent. Here’s my rule: If you need to explain it, it’s not a good metaphor.

The 800 Hundred Pound Gorilla

My list of poor, overused, or trite business metaphors includes (in alphabetic order):

• 800 pound gorilla
• best of breed
• blue sky thinking
• boots on the ground
• bring our ‘a’ game
• carrot and stick
• down in the weeds
• drink the kool aid
• eat what you kill
• gone off the reservation
• level the playing field
• low-hanging fruit
• move the needle
• on the same page
• push the envelop
• raise the bar
• rubber hits the road
• step up to the plate
• stick to your knitting
• stir the pot
• take it to the next level
• tear down the silos
• the bleeding edge
• the learning curve
• think outside the box
• throw under the bus
• under the radar
• who moved my cheese?

What do you think? Do you agree or disagree that metaphors shouldn’t have to be explained? Do you take exception with any metaphor on my list? What metaphor would you add?

Photo courtesy of Weiter Winkel at Flickr.

I’m a big fan of Dan Roam’s book, The Back of the Napkin. (I’ll do a review of it later.) It’s all about visual learning, not the usual mindless approach that’s used to justify projecting lots of words on a PowerPoint slide. It’s about explaining what you mean by using simple drawings.

Here he is explaining his approach in his own words.
 

Here are two of my favorite quotes from the interview:

• “The essential element of communication is trying to get what’s in my head into your head in the fastest and the most efficient and most believable way possible…”
• “…there’s absolutely no more powerful way to communicate the idea that’s in my head into your head than by talking about it and drawing a simple picture of what I’m talking about it at the same time.”

Check out his blog, where he demonstrates what he’s talking about.

I always enjoy John Maxwell’s books. I’ve especially enjoyed reading and rereading The 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership and 25 Ways to Win with People.

John teaches both life and leadership lessons that he’s learned from his decades of church ministry and from his work with Fortune 500 companies. I find his books to be brimming over with pithy advice, real-life examples, and encouragement.

So I was happy to come up on his latest book: Everyone Communicates, Few Connect: What the Most Effective People Do Differently.

It’s hardback, 262 pages, with a table of contents and endnotes (but no index). Chapters are 20 to 30 pages long, and they always conclude with specific suggestions for applying the lessons of the chapter in three different ways: 1) connecting one-on-one, 2) connecting in a group, and 3) connecting with an audience. Something is new in the book — at least I don’t remember seeing in his other books — Maxwell includes stories and insights from people who read parts of the book on his blog. Their comments keep the book well grounded in the day-to-day world of work. There are, as always, lots of questions for self-reflection and lots of great quotes.

Maxwell defines connecting as “the ability to identify with people and relate to them in a way that increases your influence with them.”

The book is divided into two sections:

1. Connecting Principles
   Connecting Increases Your Influence in Every Situation
   Connecting Is All About Others
   Connecting Goes Beyond Words
   Connecting Always Requires Energy
   Connecting Is More Skill Than Natural Talent, and
2. Connecting Practices
   Connectors Connect on Common Ground
   Connectors Do the Difficult Work of Keeping It Simple
   Connectors Create an Experience Everyone Enjoys
   Connectors Inspire People
   Connectors Live What They Communicate

There’s so much to ponder in this book. I couldn’t possibly list all of the things I like about it. So, instead, let me just comment on part of one chapter, “Connectors Connect on Common Ground,” that I found so insightful. After listing four barriers to finding common ground (making assumptions, arrogance, indifference, and control), Maxwell then reflects on ways to cultivate what he calls a “common ground mind-set.”

He describes eight of those mind-sets: making yourself available, listening, asking questions, being thoughtful, being open, being liable, being humble, and being adaptable. (It’s like Maxwell to list twice as many positives — eight connecting mind-sets — as negatives — four barriers.)

The three pages he devotes to humility are, themselves, worth the price of the book. He disputes the common assumption that humility means thinking poorly of yourself. He quotes Alan Ross’s definition in its place: “Humility means knowing and using your strength for the benefit of others, on behalf of a higher purpose.” He then tells of a time when he was speaking at a conference where other speakers bombarded the audiences with their own success stories. (Professional speakers are all too apt to do that, unfortunately.) He decided, instead, to share his failures and blunders as a leader. And by doing so he forged common ground with his audience and, I’m sure, gave them much more to think about than all the other speakers did. He concludes the brief section with four pieces of advice for putting his ideas about humility into action.

That section is representative of the rest of the book: clear and specific advice, real-life examples, and practical applications.

I highly recommend Everyone Communicates, Few Connect. Check it out and let me know what you think.

I’m a big fan of framing many technical presentations in a Problem - Solution format. You lay out a problem, analyze it, propose one or more solutions, discuss their pros and cons, and make a recommendation.

Of course, in real life problems are often complicated and messy and solutions are harder to come by. (Just ask the people at BP.)

When I’m called in to work with a team that is confronted with a serious problem, here’s a list of questions I draw from. Not all of them are applicable to all situations, mind you, but I like having them to prompt discussions:

1. Is it a problem, a situation, or a condition? A threat or an opportunity?
2. What is the problem? What is the nature of the problem? Does it involve people, processes, systems, technology, or tools? Is it acute or chronic? Isolated or systemic?
3. What do we know about the problem? What else do we need to know? What questions do we need to ask? How are we going to get the information we need? Who has the knowledge, skill, or experience to help address the problem?
4. When did the problem begin? How did it develop?
5. Who is most affected by the problem? Who has the most at stake? Who is responsible for resolving the problem?
6. What values, ethical considerations, laws, regulations, or relationships are at stake?
7. Where (in what physical location, system, department) did the problem begin? Where does it currently exist?
8. What is the cause or the source of the problem?
9. What problems (pain) does the problem cause?
10. How has the problem been addressed in the past? What was done, by whom, when, and to what effect?
    What is the probability of the problem resolving itself?
11. How much cost-in money, time, labor-will be incurred if the problem is left alone?
12. What solutions have the greatest probability of success? What are the pros and cons of each one? Which one do you recommend? What does your gut tell you to do?
13. Do the proposed solutions address the problem or the pain?
14. How much will each proposed solution cost-in money, time, labor-to implement?
    What risks are involved? What will happen if 1) we do nothing or 2) take this proposed action? What can go wrong? How will people-employees, customers/clients, the public, the competition-react? How probable and how serious are those risks? What can be done to mitigate them?
15. What are the benefits of the proposed solution? How can this problem be turned to an advantage?
16. What happens next? How long will it take to implement the solution and what is the timeframe?

Do you have any questions to add to my list? Which ones do you think are most important? Would you change any?

Here’s a thoughtful and well-illustrated presentation about motivation.

It debunks the myth that rewarding people for behavior that you want and punishing them for behavior that you don’t want gets you more of what you want. In place of the carrot and a stick approach to motivation, Dan Pink talks about the importance of appealing to people’s need for autonomy, mastery, and purpose.

I really like what he has to say. What do you think? And what do you think of the illustration?

I think a rant is a great type of a speech, when done properly. It takes a strong point of view — in this case against two misuses of the English language (”I could care less” and “holding down the fort”) — and pounds it home with intelligence and wit.

Do you know any examples of rants worth sharing?

George Torok, an executive speech coach out of Ontario, has a great post on “Speaking Without Notes.” (His blog is always worth reading.)

He gives three suggestions for eliminating or cutting down on the notes you rely on while speaking:

1. Key Word Notes: After you’ve outlined your speech and rehearsed it, distill it down to a few — no more than six or seven — key words or short phrases. Write out the words on a single piece of paper (just one side) or on a note card.
2. Questions: Create your speech as if you’re answering a succession of questions. Imagine the audience asking the first question, which you’re then happy to answer. Your answer naturally leads them to ask another question, which you answer. And so on. (I love this technique.)
3. Props: Use a prop for each main point. The prop is your cue. As you pick it up or demonstrate it, you’ll remember what you want to say.

Here’s an example from a Toastmasters speech contest, which I found on Ian Griffin’s blog, of a great use of a prop:

I’ve been rereading Marshall McLuhan lately. Always challenging. Always a delight.

Media, according to McLuhan, is an extension — any technology a person or society uses to expand the range of the human body or mind in a new way. Telegraph, radio, movies, TV, the Internet, e-mail, and IM are all extensions, because they are — or were at one time — new technologies that expand how we communicate.

Extensions bring about amputations — technologies that are lost because of the adoption of a newer technology. The telegraph, for example, is an amputation caused by the telephone.

McLuhan noted — and was concerned by the fact — that most people are excited about extensions while ignoring amputations. We are, in simpler terms, excited about what we gain by a new technology, a new medium, without giving much thought to what we lose.

PowerPoint is a case in point.

It is clearly an extension, a new technology for presenting information. It makes many things possible: the relatively easy creation, display, and dissemination of visual elements (words, graphs, charts, diagrams, etc.).

It also creates amputations — lost technologies, lost media, lost ways of communicating. Presenters almost never use a chalkboard or (thankfully) an overhead projector any more. Few people (sadly) use flip charts. Almost no one creates handouts. (I don’t consider a printed version of your PowerPoint presentation a handout.) And fewer and fewer people (tragically) are writing research papers or white papers.

We are, I think, quick to celebrate the benefits of PowerPoint and slow to acknowledge the losses. What do you think?

Photo courtesy of Medipedia.

Jon Steward of The Daily Show expands here on the NYT article I referenced in last week’s posting. He embellishes on the article in his own inimical fashion and then extends it to speeches from the movies Patton, Star Wars, and Braveheart. Check it out.