presentation coach

Who are these people, anyway?

When the books you read about public speaking, or your presentation skills coach or trainer, tell you to “Know your audience,” just what are they talking about?

Are they expecting you to memorize everyone’s name and the names of their children and pets?

No, it’s not about that, or about knowing their birthdays or what kind of car they drive (unless, of course, your topic is about their car).

It’s more elemental.

It’s about understanding the relationships in the room. Being aware of common frames of reference. Respecting the audience’s history, values and traditions. Then using that knowledge as a tool to sculpt your message so it has relevance and resonance for them.

Knowing your audience can spell the difference between a powerful presentation and a forgettable one… between fulfilling your objective as a speaker and squandering an opportunity.

Here’s an illustration:

The publisher and editor of a statewide business magazine came to town one day to promote a new editorial product. As they previously had done in other cities and towns across the state, the pair hosted a breakfast meeting at a downtown hotel and invited what their publication’s data base suggested was the “A” list of local business and community leaders.

There were about 75 people in the room that morning. As the guests sipped their coffee and nibbled on melon balls and croissants, the magazine’s editor stepped up to the lectern, thanked everybody for attending and motioned for her assistant to flash the first in a series of slick PowerPoint slides onto a screen.

With a practiced eloquence, she proceeded to position her new product by lecturing the audience about themselves: Who they were. What was important to them. What sort of choices they were facing in the marketplace.

Then to burnish her own company’s credentials, she took credit on its behalf for bringing so many opinion leaders to this one place so they could get to know one another better.

That was the moment when she lost traction with the audience.

She was from the big city up north. This wasn’t the big city. It was a much smaller town, in a rural corner of the state.

The people in this room knew one another. They had a collective history. They didn’t just do business with each other. They had grown up together. Many had attended local schools together as kids and now their own children played on the same school athletic teams. They sat together on numerous civic and business committees, boards and commissions. They belonged to the same Rotary and Kiwanis and Lions and Soroptimist clubs.

It would not be unusual for them to encounter one another — socially as well as professionally — two, three, even four times in a given business day.

So when the speaker commended them for coming together like this to talk business, she was telling them she did not know her audience.

When she failed to observe, let alone acknowledge, the connections that existed among the people in this room, she no longer was having a conversation with them, she was talking at them.

What made the situation more astonishing was that this was no drive-by sales pitch by lightweights. She and her colleague were people of experience, intelligence and influence. A great deal of time and thought and expense had gone into hosting this presentation.

Yet, they were sending a clear signal they hadn’t done their homework.

Such neglect is a signal of disrespect.

Her audience disengaged. They were courteous, of course, and sat politely through to the end of the program. Mentally and emotionally, however, they already had left the room.

Another outsider coming down here to tell us what to do and think.

And that made her all too familiar to them.

Know your audience.

That doesn’t mean learning people’s names and birthdays and favorite movies before you speak to them.

It means investing the time to determine how the people in your audience relate to one another. What commonalities exist? What burning issues might they be facing?

For an audience to be willing to let you enter their world, you first must demonstrate the thoughtfulness of a good guest. Make inquiries. Do your homework. Then acknowledge who they are and what they value as a community of people.

Neglect to do so, and you may be left knocking at their door, your message unheard, your objective unfulfilled, your opportunity lost.

About fear…

Faced with the prospect of stepping in front of other people to speak, a lot of folks will begin to dwell on dark thoughts.

They think they’re going to screw up.

They expect their minds to go blank.

They’re sure the audience will laugh at them or walk out or otherwise humiliate them.

These are honest, natural, human fears. I will not dismiss them or discount them. Even after 30 years of stepping before audiences and live TV cameras, I still have episodes of shaky knees, pounding heart and cotton mouth.

But these fears do not have to get in the way of a good performance. You can deal with them.

How have I dealt with my own anxiety?

I remind myself of why I am there: I have a job to do. The audience is looking to me to deliver information, make a case, emcee a program, advocate a cause, defend a principle, introduce a colleague. I have a responsibility to them and to their time. My focus must be on my task rather than my fear.

I tell myself that just like a pro athlete before a match, or a surgeon before an operation, or firefighter about to enter a burning building, I have a purpose. I know what I am here to do.

Then I begin doing it.

Your audience wants you to succeed. Don’t let them be a source of pressure. Concentrate your energies on doing a great job — whether you’re making a report to a staff meeting, summarizing a project for your client, or making your case to a community group.

The audience only gets what you give them. They don’t know how nervous you are. They don’t know what your script is. They don’t know what you’ll say next. They don’t know what else is racing through your mind.

You are in control.

Will you make mistakes? Of course.

Will there be flashes of panic? Yes.

Will you forget details? Most likely.

Give yourself permission to make mistakes, to be anxious. Then carry on. Just don’t make yourself a liability for your message. It’s too important for that.

If your speaking skills are weak, your audience will sense it enough without you having to make a big deal about it.

Remember, it’s not about you. It’s your message the audience is interested in. Just get it across as best you can, as convincingly as you can, and everyone will be satisfied.

Keeping faith…

If your audience has been told you will be speaking for 15 minutes (or 10 minutes, or 20), honor that expectation. Doing so may be the most influential element of your presentation.

To go beyond your allotted time breaks faith with the audience. It reveals a lack of respect for their time, which can imply a lack of respect for them, and that’s a place you absolutely do not want to go.

And let us not forget that going over your time may pose a cascading hardship on other speakers who are due to follow you, perhaps compressing the entire program.

Is that what you want people to remember most about your appearance?

Panel presentations are particularly susceptible to time breaches. These are situations where two or more speakers take turns commenting on some topic or another, usually with each person having a brief time to make opening remarks. Often these sessions are moderated, so there is a referee to monitor each speaker’s time. On the other hand, moderators at these kinds of events typically are volunteers who are helping stage a conference break-out or community forum. They may not be especially experienced or skilled in these sorts of things and may not know of discreet or tactful ways to rein in the speaker who’s failed to watch the clock.

Regardless, the burden remains with you as the speaker to mind the time, and graciously respect the limits that have been imposed on you.

Okay, say you initially were told you would have 20 minutes to speak, and prepared your remarks accordingly. But, once the program got underway, you were informed that your time slot had to be reduced to 10 minutes. What to do?

Edit like crazy. Swallow hard, grimace if necessary, then trim your content to 10 minutes. Don’t be petulant by insisting on more time. Such a response is unprofessional and accomplishes nothing (except create an unfavorable impression among others affected by your behavior).

Cut your carefully crafted remarks in half? Yes. It can be done, and in these situations, it must be done. If you structured your remarks as a function of the Big Idea, then your central point should only take a short time to express. Everything else is supporting information. You may have to do without a few examples that help you make your case, but your alternative is to betray the compact you have with your audience to stick to a time limit.

Besides, if people are glancing at their watches and wondering why you haven’t finished, you’ve effectively lost their primary attention to your remarks, haven’t you?

Respect your audience by remaining faithful to them. The importance you place on your remarks cannot measure up to the importance the audience — or other speakers — place on their own time and attention.

Passenger comfort...

When you design your presentation, remember you’re taking your audience on a journey.

Help them understand why they’re there listening to you, where you’re going to go with your topic, and how you’re going to take them there.

They want to go along for the ride without having to work too hard. Challenge them, certainly, but entertain them, too.

Make your line of reasoning easy to follow.

Give them room to breathe, to absorb and to ponder by pacing your main points.

Use clear transitions from one subject to the next so your audience will have a sense of where they are in your presentation (“First, some background information…,” “Now, let’s move to our main points…”).

Remember, your audience won’t have a roadmap handy; only you know your destination. If you want people to travel comfortably with you as your build your case, don’t let them feel lost or adrift as you move through a topic. Keep them posted on where you are, where you’ve been and where you’re going.

And warn them as you approach your conclusion (“Here’s my final point…,” “Before I take your questions, allow me to summarize…”). You’ll be surprised at how much more attentive people can be when they know a program is close to finishing.

Simplicity...

Use simple charts and meaningful graphics.

If you need to display a legend to explain all the parts and colors of a chart or graph, then the information is much too complex to present. Your audience won’t take the time to decipher it (and if they try, that means they’re not paying attention to you). They certainly will not remember the detail. Life’s too short.

If sales are up, simply show “Sales are up” and use an up-arrow and the appropriate number or percentage.

If results are down, then simply declare “Results are down” with a correspondingly basic graphic.

Save the spreadsheet for the analysts to review later.

Use supporting images and photos sparingly, too. Otherwise, they can clutter a slide or overhead and distract your audience from your message.

Here’s a rule of thumb: If a graphic or photo contributes to your main point, use it. If it doesn’t, don’t.

Droning...

Why do we resist telling stories?

Why do we think that if it’s a “formal” presentation, we must be stale, stuffy, rigid and boring?

There were more than 100 decision-makers in the audience. Bankers and financial advisors. Builders, architects and contractors. Business owners and corporate policy makers.

The presenter's topic was emerging trends for improved efficiency in the building design and construction trades.

He was a knowledgeable advocate for something he believed in strenuously. In private conversation, his obvious enthusiasm for the subject would command your attention. Now he had a chance to turn a few heads among those very likely to be making some big-dollar construction decisions in the foreseeable future.

Did they hear wonderful, inspiring, stimulating accounts of real people dealing with real concerns? A compelling narrative about matters of consequence to their own lives and fortunes?

No.

They received a data dump.

The heard a presenter drone on about statistics while watching a script of banal marketing language projected lifelessly, endlessly on a huge screen in another part of the room.

No drama. No passion. No stories.

A pity.

I cheated. Rather than watch the speaker or the screen, I watched the room. What I saw was an audience that was fidgety and disengaged. They didn’t know where this presentation was going. And few seemed to care. It didn’t concern them, after all. It was about his agenda, not theirs. They already were thinking ahead to their first appointments of the afternoon.

Too bad, because I would guess more than a few had it within their power to make some big choices about what materials and systems they would buy when building or remodeling an office or warehouse or even private home.

Too bad, because it was genuinely a great topic and worthy of attention.

It was opportunity lost, however, because the speaker evidently felt safer retreating behind numbers and projected narrative instead of engaging his audience about a topic he really knew and understood well.

A teachable moment squandered, regrettably, because the speaker centered his remarks on the details of his topic rather than on the information needs of his audience.

He droned. Not on purpose, of course. He stepped in front of his audience with every good intention to share something important. But rather than have a conversation with them, rather than make a compelling case and spark their imaginations, he instead donned an insulating cloak of deadpan formality, stitched together with a lifeless PowerPoint display of talking points.

Style and substance are not mutually exclusive. You don’t get points for boring an audience in the flawed belief that the more bland you are, the more important your message.

Boredom is not a safe place. Don’t go there. It gets in the way of understanding the message you are attempting to convey, while it is style that enables and encourages that understanding.

Style has a voice. It’s you. Don’t be afraid of it.

Getting it right...

How many people do you know anticipate attending a presentation by saying on the way over, “Boy, I sure hope it’s a long speech that I really have to work hard to understand!”

Do yourself a huge favor: Critically examine your intended remarks. Look at them closely from a perspective other than your own.

Is it something you would want to hear? Be honest.

Could you flood your mind with thoughts about the rest of your day, appointments to be kept, calls to be made, kids to pick up later from practice, and still follow what you were saying?

Evaluate your purpose in speaking.

Make your point. Quickly, efficiently, memorably.

Build your case in tight, uncomplicated steps.

Declare your theme unambiguously, and then revolve all your content around it.

Shape your words and examples to reflect what the audience cares about. Regardless of the topic, it is not about you or your problems. It’s always about the audience and the benefits your message can offer them.

If it appears your audience will have to work to understand your presentation, then you have more work to do right now.

Time versus need...

You've been asked to report on your project.

It isn't a seminar. You haven't been asked to teach anyone anything, only to provide a snapshot so your colleagues or investors or peers can get a sense of what you've been up to, and why it matters. And because of the nature of the speaking event -- a business luncheon, for instance, or a conference break-out session -- there is a rigid time limit.

For many occasional presenters, this is a very tough assignment.

Regrettably, some begin planning their remarks with the wrong question:

"How much can I say in the time available?"

Thus they sabotage their own efforts before they even begin.

You see, a good presentation is not a function of time.

It is a function of need -- the audience's need for essential information, not your own need to impress everyone with the volume and scope of your efforts.

So the question becomes:

"What is the one thing, the Big Idea, I want my audience to remember, and what will it take to express it in the time available?"

Think about it like this:

Your audience watches television news.

They're used to hearing and watching about the destruction of entire cities by earthquake in a 60-second report.

They're accustomed to learning about the rise and fall of national economies in 30 seconds ... and with just a single graphic.

Entire political platforms or changing health care policies are reduced to 90-second essays.

Despite the brutal brevity of it all, TV audiences generally come away feeling like they've gotten much if not all of what they absolutely need to know on a subject.

They are thoroughly conditioned to expect a succinct, cogent, efficiently paced delivery of information. (Complete? Perhaps not. Enough? Arguably, yes.) It is these same audiences who are expecting you to be good, interesting and to the point in as few words and little time as possible. Unfamiliar with the grand orators of the past, modern audiences typically will not tolerate rambling dissertations or intricate examinations of a complex topic.

If as the speaker you are asking them for an hour of their concentration, you are asking for something unnatural. Their minds will drift. You will be talking largely to yourself.

Challenge yourself, therefore, as you plan your remarks: What does your audience need to know to satisfy your objective as a speaker? How can you most efficiently convey your message in a manner that is memorable and persuasive?

Does it really take 30 minutes to make your point? Or can you do it in 13 ... or three?

Now, a disclaimer is in order. As a frequent speaker about various complicated issues, I agree that audiences' expectation for brevity often is lamentable. Some topics are complex and deserve detailed elaboration. There are times I would cherish the luxury of taking a whole hour to describe something and make my case.

But that's not realistic.

So the questions I must ask instead are what is my specific audience's presumed level of interest? What content satisfies that interest? And how do I tell that story with the greatest efficiency?

I must always remember ... less can be more.

Breaking through...

In a quick survey I conduct at the beginning of my presentation skills clinics, I ask for a show of hands to these questions:

How many of you watched television in the past 24 hours?

How many watched the news?

Watched a sports report?

An entertainment program?

Saw a documentary?

An advertisement?

How many read a newspaper?

Listened to a radio?

Saw a billboard?

Received an e-mail?

Received a fax?

A letter?

A bill?

Now, if I were to ask you to take a blank sheet of paper and write down — in any number of words necessary — the essential message of each of those media you said you encountered, could you do it?

What did the billboard say? What were the top four stories on the evening news? How much was the product advertised on the radio?

More often than not, most people taking this survey end up smiling and shaking their heads. No, they really can’t remember much detail. One or two items, perhaps. But the rest is just a memory blur.

And that’s precisely the point of the exercise, you see. It’s a demonstration of a process called filtering. It’s what allows us to remember a select number of messages but not others.

It may be what keeps us sane.

Each day, we are exposed to some 3,000 distinct messages.

Do this.

Go here.

Buy that.

Join us.

Act now.

A lot of very clever and dedicated folks invest a lot of effort and capital trying to get us to pay attention to them and their message.

The smart ones frame their message in a way that makes it more meaningful to us, thereby improving the odds that we’ll notice.

Much as we scan the headlines of a newspaper or contents of a magazine to choose which articles to read (or, at least, review more closely), our brain is continually scanning the hundreds and thousands of messages bombarding it and choosing where to focus its attention.

We filter. We screen for the most important or relevant or desired. We remember the things that matter to us in some way. And we ignore or discard those things that don’t.

When you are preparing to step in front of an audience — any audience, be it a general assembly at the national conference, or a staff meeting of six of your cohorts — remember their brains are in a filtering mode, too.

How can you say what you need to say in a manner that will penetrate those filters?

How can you give your message the necessary context, timeliness and relevance so people will spend a moment with it?

What can you do to make your message matter?

The fact that you may be the only speaker in the room isn’t enough. From where the audience sits, you still are competing with the day’s other 2,999 messages.

It can be done. But the responsibility is not with the audience to remember what you say. The responsibility remains with you to be memorable.