Who stole your voice?

Mark Shayler identifies and helps us overcome the things that stop us becoming a better public speaker in this extract from his new book, Do Present.

Because you had it at one point. It was there: in your throat, between your lips. You owned your voice. Then someone stole it. It could have been a well-meaning parent speaking for you; it could have been someone who knew that you had something great to say but they wanted to be the one that said it; it could have been someone who was so fearful of your power that they shut you up, continually (this is oh so common, particularly for women); it could have been a boss or colleague who wanted to keep you down (see the previous point — it’s the same thing); it could have been you. Yes, you. Stealing your own voice. Keeping safe by staying small. We are not meant to be small. We are meant to be us-sized.

It’s easy to think that great presenters are born, not made; that people either have it or they don’t. This isn’t the case. I can teach people to be good presenters. I can teach good presenters to be great. But it is true that some find it easier than others; that some actually enjoy it. These people are rare, but you know one when you meet one. Most of them are like this in everyday interactions. They have charisma. Some, however, keep that part of themselves hidden. The aim of my new book, Do Present, is to pull that out of you, to give you the confidence to show your true colours. Cyndi Lauper said it best.

“I see your true colours… so don’t be afraid to let them show.”

Now I’m not saying that you need to be all showbiz, all light and no heat. Furthermore, this isn’t a plea to bring a character out of the closet and become someone else. That’s acting. That’s different.

(But it can be funny sometimes.)

The essence of being able to present with confidence splits into two:

1. Confidence in yourself

2. Confidence in your idea

You can get a good way through life, a career, relationships, parenting, by pretending to be someone you’re not. But it is easier, faster and more effective to be yourself. Also, it saves time and money (therapist bills, sports cars, that kind of thing) to do it earlier rather than wait for your midlife crisis. This isn’t intended to be flippant in any way. It is genuine. I’m fifty-one. I help people find a voice. I help companies innovate better. I work with companies on sustainability. I do some coaching. Through all of this I see that 70 per cent of the people I work with, talk to, that speak to me after a presentation, do not truly embrace themselves. This is in no way a criticism. But it is critical. How do you expect others to like you if you don’t like yourself? How do you expect others to listen to you if you don’t listen to yourself? Come with me on this. It can all sound a bit hippy and fluffy. But it matters and it works. I see the consequences. I see those that are lost later in life because they haven’t sorted this stuff out earlier.

This isn’t about presentations alone. This is about life. Understanding who you are and what you are really matters. It matters to how you show up on the stage, in the meeting, at work, in life. We find it all too easy to slip on the overcoat of someone else, the uniform of the person we want to be.

I can’t be you; and you can’t be me.

So yes, confidence is the hummus in the sandwich. It’s the main thing. Confidence is attractive. It is even ‘sexy’. Getting closer to the real ‘you’ means you can stop projecting the fake one.

Confidence is the key to a great talk. Confidence is not charisma (I can help teach confidence, but charisma is harder — it’s more innate). Confidence is not ego (being good at something and knowing it is not having an ego; being average or poor at something and thinking you’re great — that’s ego). Confidence is not showing off — confidence is showing up, and showing up with belief in yourself and an understanding of your weaknesses as well as your strengths. It isn’t bluffing or blagging or hustling. It is being utterly certain of who you are.

Confidence is really complex. Some people seem to be born confident. There is interesting research suggesting that confidence is genetic — as much as 50 per cent of our likelihood of being confident is thought to be genetic. Some develop confidence (that’ll be the other 50 per cent, then). Some have confidence knocked out of them (sometimes through love as much as hate) as they grow. But the good news is that there are many simple things you can do to improve confidence.

First, I want you to consider what confidence is. It isn’t a fixed attribute. Sometimes we’ll have more or less confidence in the same situation than at other times. Sometimes our confidence is dented by things that don’t relate to the task in hand. Sometimes our confidence is bolstered (or undermined) by the clothes we choose to wear for an event.

Confidence is the outcome of the thoughts we have, the actions we take and how we feel about ourselves. Sure, these can all be affected by others, by external situations, by the journey to the event — or to this part of our lives. And fortunately, some of it can be rectified.

So how do we improve our confidence? How do we become more confident when presenting? I have a number of suggestions to help you:

We don’t get bored any more (well, at the moment we might). We don’t sit with our own discomfort any more. When was the last time you were on your own without your phone? You’re never alone with a phone. The single best way to improve confidence is to work out who you are. And, trust me, it’s better to do this earlier rather than later in life. What do I mean by this? You need to learn to like yourself, to know yourself, to love yourself. To be able to look in the mirror and like the person you see is what I’m talking about. We need to spend time with ourselves to get to this point. I don’t mind how you do this. Gardening, running, swimming, walking, meditating, I really don’t care — but spending time alone and undistracted is the key.

One of the biggest fears we have around presenting relates to difficult questions we might be asked. Questions we can’t answer. There are two strategies to deal with this. Firstly, find that really difficult person in your office / studio / friendship group / family. Tell them about your presentation (the idea and story) and ask them what questions they would ask. They are programmed to look for the challenge. This is a skill, so use them for it.

Secondly, be honest. If someone asks a question that you can’t answer then just be honest: ‘That’s a great question, I don’t know the answer but I’ll find out.’ But remember to get back to them. Occasionally during a presentation you will encounter someone who just doesn’t like you, who wants to trip you up. This is a challenge and the best strategy is to neutralise them. ‘Hey, it’s unlikely that we will agree on this but why don’t we talk about it afterwards?’ The audience will undoubtedly back you. You can argue with this person later (if need be) and get on and deliver the talk. I had this recently. It related to the unsustainability of a glass package wrapped in plastic. I was challenged. I acknowledged the point of view but repeated the fact that it wasn’t the best environmental option. I was challenged again, then again. So I just said, ‘I don’t agree and it is unlikely that we will reach consensus; let’s talk afterwards.’ It spared the audience the debate and let me get on with the rest of the presentation.

Not everyone gets asked to do this. Just you. That means you are valued and trusted, that means someone thinks you have an interesting point of view and fresh ideas. So don’t disappoint, don’t play safe. It’s time to stand up and show up. For many, being in front of an audience is being out of control. Flip it. Being in front of an audience is being in total control. I can make you think of a pink balloon just by saying the words. I can make you laugh, I can make you cry. Being in front of people is like being a DJ with ideas and emotions. When we panic, when we have a wobble, it is tempting to reach for the brakes. But as anyone who rides mountain bikes will tell you, speed is your friend: power through.

But not too much. I hate rehearsing. It removes my spontaneity, my relaxed delivery. But I acknowledge that the presentation is better on the tenth outing than on the first. I have a friend. He rehearses a lot. He once rehearsed 26 times for a presentation to a big UK retailer. Afterwards they said it was the best presentation they’d ever seen. Now he rehearses 26 times for everything. So this has moved from rehearsal to ritual. Like putting your left boot on first before a big match. Multiple rehearsals work for his talks, regardless of why it works for him. Personally, I don’t rehearse, and neither does Brené Brown. Find out what level of rehearsal works for you. Then stick to that.

This sounds simplistic but it is really important. Ensure you know the order, ensure the spelling and grammar are correct, ensure that it’s the correct deck. It sounds daft, but I once started a presentation to a recycling forum with a deck I’d been writing on the train for a heating ventilation and air conditioning forum (I’m so bloody niche!) It was embarrassing to say the least — there’s no easy way out of that one. You just have to admit your mistake and flick it over to the correct deck. If you’re using your laptop also be aware of what other windows are left open. Mail notifications popping up top- right are distracting. And be aware of what else is visible (this is true whether you are presenting in real life or to a group of people online). I once saw a great talk on blockchain that started with the presenter connecting her laptop and revealing her bank balance. It wasn’t healthy. It put her off, reduced audience confidence, and ruined what would have been a great talk. So shut everything down apart from your deck. The last thing you want to be worrying about is the tech or your slides. Give yourself plenty of time to ensure it all works.

All that is great, but you’re still shaking like a leaf, right? Absolutely pooping yourself? This is panic. Panic is debilitating. Panic can end in hyperventilation and the inability to be able to think clearly or speak coherently. Panic is not your friend. Having a few nerves, well, that’s okay. Indeed, being a little nervous is good. I deliver my worst presentations when I’m not nervous. The most nervous I get is before the auction at the Do Lectures. The auction is when we raise money for good causes by selling experiences with the speakers. It could be climbing Kilimanjaro with Charlie Engle, or making your own batch of alcohol-free gin with Seedlip founder Ben Branson. In short, things money can’t normally buy. Why do I get nervous? Because it really matters. Because the money we raise is donated to charity and people might live or die as a result. It’s an auction, but I structure it like a performance. It has inspiration at the front end, some self-deprecation, running themes (golden threads), humour, and a big ending. I use audience participation, I will hustle occasionally. It is utterly exhausting and I have to consciously remember to breathe — because that’s what gets me through.

So, remember: I can’t be you, and you can’t be me. I can’t be Steve Jobs, and you can’t be Brené Brown. All we can be is ourselves. And that’s enough.

We all have a voice. We all have a story to tell. Go and tell yours, as no one else will tell it for you.

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