And you thought beginning was hard...

Every summer I take a respite from coaching and consulting and go back to camp. Well, not camp, really: it's Discover the World of Communications, a summer program at American University. Sarah Menke-Fish, visionary Professor of Communications, created this program for driven, directed high school students 15 years ago. And I have been lucky to be a part of the DWC family for nine years now.

The past two weeks I have been working with DWCers in my Speaking for Impact class. They are smart kids, from some of the area's best schools, so it isn't Intro to Public Speaking. Most have made many speeches, and know they will make more in the careers they hope to have. However, I am struck by how often I need to point out that their speeches don't really have endings. And that's not just generational; many of my older clients have difficulty ending their speeches and presentations as well. (A good example of "what not to do" can be found at the end of Ellen DeGeneres' funny yet poignant 2009 Tulane commencement speech. But be warned: she is a comedian with impeccable timing. A less gifted person would never get by with a conclusion that concludes the conclusion.)

Just as you need a "hook" to engage the listeners, to get them interested in your topic or to pique their curiosity about how you will handle your subject matter, you also need a "coda" at the end to wrap everything up. Common methods for doing this include referring to the story you used in your hook, answering the pointed question you asked in the beginning, or citing the intriguing quotation you opened with. Other "codas" can be structured using rhetorical devices. I had a student this week end her "Don't Text While Driving" speech with a wonderful use of repetition: three sentences that started with "Be the one who...." It's a classic technique, but it works.

Ending your speech definitively may seem like a no-brainer, but it is surprising how many speakers sputter to a close, as if they have run out of steam (or time). They don't end with a strong finish and that is too bad. Your closing is another opportunity to make your point. Even if you have lost your listeners somewhere along the way, your message will be remembered if it is reinforced by the last words your audience hears. Make them count! 

Madeleine and Audra

Madeleine Albright shows off her Wellesley Blue sneakers

"Be yourself."

You have heard it before. Everyone has said it--from your mother sending you out the door on your first day of school, to your BFF giving you a pep talk before that big job interview. But when this is the advice offered to women leaders from Madeleine Albright, you somehow hear it in a new way. And it doesn't seem trite at  all.

I was at Wellesley for my college reunion, and Madeleine (Class of '59) was speaking in conjunction with the opening of Read My Pins, an exhibit at the Davis Art Museum. Following a fascinating talk that combined stories detailing how she used her pins to convey diplomatic messages, the floor was opened up for questions. A few questions arose about how best to be a woman leader in a world that still applies a double standard. Her response? "It is annoying when men do that but that's just the way it is. Be confident in what you are doing, and don't take such criticism personally." You can best do that when you are Being Yourself. By that I think she meant that in a leadership role you need to know your strengths and play to them. Trust your instincts and your homework. Do not feel the need to become someone else's idea of what a leader should be. And I would extrapolate even further (to summarize a point I have read in other books on women's leadership) that you are a leader because you are a leader. No need to second-guess. Be bold. Be confident! I was lucky to see many examples this weekend of classmates who were the embodiment of just that kind of leadership. They we enjoying themselves immensely, being themselves.

And then I came home and watched the Tony Awards. I watched Broadway stars, people who role-play for their living, celebrating their community. The surprise of the evening was, for me, the way the stunningly talented Audra McDonald was so overcome with emotion at winning her record-breaking sixth Tony that she cried throughout her acceptance speech. McDonald's profession depends on her self-knowledge and self-possession, yet she felt free to be undeniably herself.

In moments of heightened emotion (or heightened stress) we can give ourselves this gift. If we do not stand outside ourselves, worrying about how others will judge us, we can act on what our preparation and our inner guide tell us we must do. Great leaders know that being authentic, even when it means being vulnerable, is a mark of strength. Great actors do, too!

A speech that stuck

Nora Ephron speaking at Wellesley College

Now that it's June we can all breathe a sigh of relief. We begin an 11-month respite from snarky commentary about Commencement speakers and their speeches, from newspaper columns and blog posts that say, "no one remembers their Commencement speaker, let alone the speech." To those of us who study best speech practices and train others to speak, those comments sound like sour grapes (from people who were not invited to speak) or laziness (from those who were but do not want to put in the time to fully prepare).

I remember the speech delivered at my own Commencement very well--and it was a long time ago! But that is probably because it was written by one of the smartest women ever to put two words together, delivered with an energy that held us spellbound. I was lucky enough to be addressed at my graduation from Wellesley College by our illustrious alumna Nora Ephron. She had a very clear message to us graduates: "Be fearless. Don't waste your time being nice. And don't be a lady!" I seem to recall a collective gasp from the parents seated behind us when she made this last point, but I recall (though perhaps imperfectly) that my classmates and I burst into applause.

I am not going to tell you here how this "advice to the graduates" shaped my life. I use it simply to illustrate that people do actually remember their Commencement speeches. Even decades later.

Nine days ago my family and I attended the graduation of our daughter from Bowdoin College. We heard many speeches over the course of graduation weekend. A few of them were memorable. But there was one that was universally lauded; it meant something to everyone who heard it, from grandparents to younger siblings. "Failure in Perspective" was given by a member of the Class of 2014, Kate Kearns. If you want to view this excellent speech you can find it here.

Kate's message of learning from failure is not that unusual. We hear it everywhere these days. In start-up circles the mantra "fail fast" seems to be on everyone's lips. But Kate is not invoking this as a "success strategy." She reaches deeper than that. By involving us in the story of her personal journey to embrace the lessons of failure, Kate touches on our fundamental reluctance to admit to anything less than success. But we must fail, if we are to grow and keep growing. So Kate turns the glib mantra into deeply held article of faith. Everyone I spoke to after the ceremony felt they could relate to the story Kate shared. She was vulnerable, honest and funny. As a listener you believed and trusted her. And took her words to heart.

When I advise my clients on content development, I tell them they need to include the element of story in their speeches if they want them to "stick." Of all the speeches that weekend, the one that stuck with us most did not just incorporate story, it grew organically from that story. A personal story that was also universal.

Nora would have approved.

Weaponize your voice

Use your voice as your secret weapon. That's the advice I give my clients. And if you have ever had the experience of feeling like your words were going nowhere, that you were speaking into a void, that you just were never going to be heard, such a strategy is something you should consider.

Many experts, coaches, and consultants (myself included) will tell you that judgments about you hinge as much on how you sound as how you look. That sounding like a leader is every bit as important as looking like one (see Romney, Willard Mitt). But most people will concentrate on crafting their content, their position statements, their speeches or talking points, and not think twice about what their tone conveys. About what they sound like, and what that signifies to the listener. Unless you are trying to overcome the handicap of not fitting the traditional leadership image (see Clinton, Hillary Rodham ) the tone of your voice might remain a subtle, subconscious influencer.

But it shouldn't, because its power cannot be discounted. The "power of voice" is a phrase I have heard at many meetings, conferences, symposia. In this phrase "voice" is used metaphorically, in the context of motivation. "Reclaiming their voice" is shorthand for empowering women or members of minorities to stand up and speak out.

I use the phrase, "unleash the power of your voice" with my clients in a much more direct way: use your rich, fully-realized sound to connect with anyone and everyone in your space. When your "instrument" (your breathe, voice, resonators) is working efficiently and well, it sends your sound vibrations out to the farthest corners of the room. You reach everyone. And touch them--literally--with those waves of sound. The more overtones and undertones you have (think of a rich chord played on the organ), the more your sound touches people.

If you are a fan of live music of any kind you already now this. Why would we rather hear our favorite musicians play at a live event? On recordings they are closer to perfection than in their performances. But the cost of that mediated perfection is the immediacy of sharing the space with the musicians, of sharing their energy, of feeling their vibrations run through us in a thrilling physical sensation.

I saw a brilliant illustration of this recently on Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyessy. In the April 6th episode, "Hiding in the Light," host and astrophysicst Neil deGrasse Tyson  explains the spectral code of light, juxtaposing the way light waves travel with the way sounds waves do. We listen to the great organ in Benedikbeuern Abbey play "O Fortuna" from Carmina Burana as we watch visible sound waves pulse and expand throughout the space.

That is what your voice can do, if you learn to "play" it. Your sound waves, your voice, your message can reach out and touch each and every one of your listeners. When your sound grabs them that way, people will listen!

I'm no marathoner. Or am I?

(AP Photo/Mary Schwalm)

I live-streamed the Boston Marathon for a bit late yesterday morning. I wanted to recapture the excitement of the Wellesley College Scream Tunnel at mile 13 of the race. The 118th Boston Marathon started earlier than I recalled; when I cheered for those first runners coming down Route 135 it was definitely not before noon! So I tuned in too late to see coverage of the Scream Tunnel. But I did catch the last five miles of the elite first heat of women. I saw Rita Jeptoo make her move and break away from the others, and saw the joy in her face when she crossed the finish line. But the final miles of the men's race were really exciting: I tensed as Meb Keflezigh's race-long lead diminished, then cheered as it widened again. I watched in amazement as he almost sprinted has way up Boylston Street to an astonishing victory.  It was an incredible day for Boston, for athletes, and for those of us who watched. As Nicholas Thompson blogged at The New Yorker,  these two top-finishers demonstrated very different ways to win a race.

I am not a marathoner, and have never, ever had that urge. I used to go for short runs, and may do so again, but the endurance test of a long-distance run is something I can't imagine doing. I am in awe of those athletes who do it, who can keep up the pace for 26.2 miles. And particularly someone like Meb who was no longer ranked at the tippy-top, who had lost his Nike sponsorship and who was thought to be over the hill, a has-been, at 38.

So I thought I had little in common with Meb, Rita, and my husband's classmate Joanie Benoit Samuleson. But this morning I was on a call with Belinda Pruyne, business coach extraordinaire at Business Innovation Group.  And Belinda said, "the people who find success are those who go the extra mile, who aren't afraid to do the work needed to separate themselves from the pack." Belinda has a lot of good advice for how to separate yourself, beginning with knowing and acting upon your non-negotiable core values.

Now, as you may know, I do a few different things in my work world, and I do them in a pretty unique way. I like to think of my approach as "muscular creativity"--making connections others don't/can't/won't see. And working at it; putting in the time to tease things out and put them back together. Working to help others communicate more effectively. Applying those same techniques to get my message across. So maybe I do have more in common with those runners than I thought. Maybe I am a marathoner, metaphorically, and don't even know it. Maybe you are, too!

Weaving the safety net of trust

Photo of Nik Wallenda by dpape on Flickr

Walking the tightrope without a net. That's what it feels like for so many of us who work alone or in small businesses. There is just so much we have to do before we can settle down to getting the job done. We need to pitch, present, propose, negotiate. Finally, when we succeed at these, we get to do what we actually love. It is "the thing itself" that interests us. And our vision of it is strong enough keep pushing us along that tightrope.

But we will never make that vision a reality if we can't communicate.

As you doubtless already know, the first step for successful communication is listening to what prospective clients want. Completely. Give them your undivided attention. But don't forget the next step: tell them what you understood them to say. This eliminates initial misunderstandings that could set you off on the wrong path. And from a relationship-building standpoint, this step is crucial. People need to be heard. If they are considering hiring you, they want to know that you will listen to what they are telling you. And to be sure that what you heard is actually what they said.

So you have heard what they want. Good. But what happens when your expertise tells you that what they want isn't really what they need? This can be tricky, but again, you have to articulate what it is they have told you, then share how your solution will solve the problem. It may be a slightly different way than they had expected, but if you approach it as a joint effort, rather than telegraphing "I am the expert so I know better," you will get down to work much sooner. This is something like the "pivot" tactic used in political communication. And this technique is known in improv world as "yes . . . and" (as opposed to "no . . . but," a counter-productive blocking tactic). Even if you absolutely know from the start that what the clients want will never solve their problem, you need to hear them out. Your willingness (or lack thereof) to engage on this level will tell them a lot about how you will communicate going forward.

In our wildest dreams we will all be as successful as (insert name of favorite industry leader here). With that stellar reputation for excellence we will be given free rein. But until then we are in the position of asking our clients to trust us, to have faith that ultimately we will give them what they really need. So we have to work to establish a bond of trust. And hold onto it. Trust is never a given. It is a gift, an important connection that we need to reinforce with every interaction. It is our safety net. So never, ever stop listening!

Expertise or Expert-ese?

Last week I went to the Dirksen Senate Office Building to attend a briefing, which is not a thing I typically do.  But there was a bill under discussion that I am particularly interested in. And the panelists included activists and advocates, some of whom I had heard speak before, and others I knew by reputation. I was pretty sure it would be a lively--and provocative--gathering.

The panelists spoke about strategies for getting the word out about this legislation and for helping the Senate and House co-sponsors get more support, as well as why this particular piece of legislation really needed to be passed soon--like yesterday! There was an palpable excitement, an electricity that permeated the room as they delivered their prepared remarks with conviction and purpose.

They knew their audience, and they spoke their language. Except the economist. She was there to make the economic case for passing this bill, and had provided a series of graphs in the briefing packet. Her presentation consisted of going through each of them and . . . well, just reading the data. Thud. The room deflated, like a balloon that had suddenly lost its air. OK, I thought, maybe she is kind of economist that does research and presents data without drawing conclusions. In a disciplined, matter-of-fact way. But why would you include someone like that on your panel when every minute counts? In those situations, it is best to seek out speakers who maximize their time supporting the message and engaging the audience.

In the follow-up Q & A period some other experts were on hand in the audience. Representatives from the Congressional Research Service (CRS) got up to share their analysis of the issues addressed by the bill. CRS is a really cool branch of Library of Congress that does all sorts of research for members of Congress to help with the legislative process. I wish I could say their presentation was all very interesting, but it was not. I could feel the eyes glazing over, the heads nodding. Phones all around the room were suddenly being checked. I am sure the CRS experts' findings were extremely important, and would have been helpful to all of us trying advance this bill. But we couldn't follow them! It felt like that time I walked into English 355 by mistake Freshman year, and heard all sorts of undoubtedly English language words used in combinations I could not make sense of. Not knowing the context, I was lost. Some people call this "insider language." Others call it "jargon." Whatever you call it, it is bound to frustrate people if they can't understand. Even (or maybe, especially) people who are already on your side.

Organizers of panels everywhere need to ask themselves, are the experts I am using more likely to confuse my audience than not? Are they there to obfuscate or clarify? If I want them to clarify, it is imperative I make sure they do. I must remind them to forgo "expert-ese" and speak the common language.