Life After PowerPoint!

In an earlier post, I reflected on how a speech is like (and unlike) a conversation.

Today I’d like to argue that a speech is like an essay. (I’m reading a collection of essays by George Orwell, All Art Is Propaganda, which got me to thinking about this connection.) 

George Orwell

There’s no definitive definition of an essay, but it’s generally described as 1) a relatively short composition 2) written from the author’s personal point of view 3) that attempts to analyze, understand, or explain a particular theme or subject.

A speech is — or should be — relatively short. I think 20 minutes is a good length for a speech. You can talk longer than that (sometimes you’re asked to speak for an hour, for example), but if you do you should break your speech into shorter (i.e. under 20 minutes) chunks. And you should always remember that while it’s a sin to run over your allotted time, it’s almost always a blessing to finish early.

A speech expresses the speaker’s point of view. If you try to be neutral or objective or to sound like anyone and everyone else, there’s no reason for you to give a speech. Let someone else give it. Or better yet, let no one give it. Invest your wisdom and understanding, your values and passion, your personality in all of its unique and odd splendor into what you say and how you say it.

And a speech attempts to make sense or a particular topic. Just one topic at a time, please. You can talk about a sophisticated, multi-faceted topic, but if you really need to talk about two (or more) topics, give two (or more) speeches.

Preparing a speech, like writing an essay, involves thought: you have to take a position, criticize it, examine the supporting evidence, test its logic, address objections, and refine it. And giving a speech, like publishing an essay, requires commitment: you have to risk putting yourself and what you really believe on the line for others to see, hear, and accept or reject.

What do you think?

A presentation is not — or should not — be primarily about communicating information. (There are more efficient and effective ways of doing so.) A presentation is about communicating an idea in a way that makes it clear and desirable. (It’s to be hoped, of course, that your idea is a good one.)

Presentations are really about selling an idea.

Rosabeth Moss Kanter, a professor at Harvard Business School, has posted a great piece that’s related to this topic, titled “Seven Hints for Selling Ideas.” (Read it here.)

Her seven hints (which she expands on in her post) are:

1. Seek many inputs.
2. Do your homework. 
3. Make the rounds.
4. See critics in private and hear them out.
5. Make the benefits clear.
6. Be specific.
7. Show that you can deliver.

I like all of her hints, but I especially like her third one: Make the rounds. Too many people assume their idea is so compelling that all they have to do is spell it out and others will instantly see its wisdom and buy into it. The truth is, people need to be sold on an idea. They appreciate being approached in person and having their concerns addressed. They are more receptive in one-on-one conversations than they are in meetings. Important decisions rarely get made at meetings: They get made beforehand and they’re simply ratified at meetings.

What do you think? Do you have any hints you’d add to the list?

A fellow speech coach and past owner of a speakers bureau, Sandra Schrift, works a lot with professional speakers and with people who want to get paid for speaking. She helps them craft what she calls a defining statement — one or two sentences that identify their target audiences, the topic they speak about, and the benefit they provide.

I’ve always liked the concept of a defining statement — it sounds classier than “an elevator speech” — and I’ve used many of Sandra’s suggestions.

But lately I’ve realized I use a variation of it that I call an undefining statement. I use it as a way of distinguishing myself from others. I say what I don’t do — how I’m unlike other people who do what I do — in order to highlight what I do do.

I might say, for example, ”Unlike other speech coaches who focus primarily on delivery — on how people stand and move and sound when they’re giving a speech — I show my clients how to develop a strategy and a compelling message so that their speeches accomplish their goals.”

Here’s how it works. Fill in the blanks:

“Unlike other ____________________[your competitors]

who _________________________________________[describe what they do or how they do it]

I ___________________________________________[describe what you do or how you do it].”

Saying what you don’t do or how you don’t work or who you don’t work with is a way of setting yourself apart. It’s much better than saying you’ll do anything for anyone. And it’s a way of more concretely defining who you are and what you do.

What do you think?