Nick Morgan, Public Words

John McCain's hand, redux....

I've had a number of comments on my recent posts on commencement speeches and John McCain's wandering hand.  So I'd thought I'd continue the discussion here. 

People have sent me some great commencement speeches, analyses of them, and links to video.  It prompts a comment right from the start:  being a member of the audience and reading a speech are two very different things.  An audience member is part of the performance art that is a speech.  Readers come after the sparks have flown; they're late to the discussion. 

The reason is, of course, that delivery is just as important to speechmaking as content.  The non-verbal conversation, as I've talked about before, is just as crucial to comprehension and success as the verbal.  You have to get both right.

And the non-verbal conversation is what everyone was bloviating about when John McCain's hand went wandering.  What did he mean?  Why did he pause so long?  What was up with that hand?

The crucial point here is that it's a mistake to try to read specific meanings into hand gestures, or body language in general, as if it were a secret code.  We are all unconscious experts in understanding body language at the emotional level, but most of us are poor at consciously decoding non-verbal communication.

Hence, I labeled my analysis of what John meant as speculation.  Only someone very close to John, and used to his gestures, would be a good analyst of what he meant.  Perhaps his wife understood immediately, but the rest of us are much better off just reading the emotion he was conveying, not intellectually trying to decode something more specific.  Let your gut tell you what the other person is feeling, and don't try to analyze gesture too consciously, and you'll be more accurate more of the time.  McCain was flummoxed, clearly, but more than that is difficult to be precise about.

We are already expert readers of body language, as long as we let that part of the brain that's good at it do its work.  It's when we try to consciously decode gesture as if it were a system of precise signals that we get into trouble.

 

Commencement Speeches

Tis the season to be wary -- of commencement speeches.  We're almost through the danger period for another year, but it doesn't pay to relax your guard too early.

I had to write a dozen (that's 12) commencement speeches -- on different topics -- over 2 summers for the Governor of Virginia when I started my career as a speechwriter 20 years ago.  That experience left me wary of the genre and easily spooked by the thought of hearing another one delivered. 

It almost goes without saying that the majority of commencement speeches are terrible -- vacuous, platitudinous, and ponderous.  And too long. 

I heard a contemporary example recently at Columbia University.  It was a proud day for me; my daughter was getting a degree.  Like so many others in the audience, I was thrilled to be there, and disposed to be charitable to all and sundry.  In fact, there was a great vibe in the crowd -- lots of joshing of neighbors and jolly comments about the day, the giant TV screens we were watching (because the crowd was so vast) and how proud we all were.

Then the President of Columbia stood up to speak.  It's always a danger sign when the head of an organization gives his/her own speech.  Ego, arrogance, stinginess -- I found myself wondering -- which was it gonna be?  Those are the only 3 reasons not to hire someone from the outside. 

I don't know about the stinginess, but ego and arrogance were certainly on display as the President droned on for far too long about far too little.  This was the guy who had brought the President of Iran to campus only to browbeat him like a naughty student in a public exchange, leading many to question his political savvy and his general acumen.  I mean, why bother if you're just going to insult the guy?  You can do that from a distance and save the air fare. 

I guess that's why the Prez went on so long about freedom of speech.  But it wasn't convincing, the prose was pompous and in love with itself, and the speech was only too typical of the sickly genre.

Contrast that one with the one J. K. Rowling delivered to the Harvard graduation.  (I didn't attend, just read it on line.)  I don't know how it sounded, but it read beautifully.  It was a moving tribute to Amnesty International and the power of the human imagination.  Timely, important, and worthy of her enormous talent.  I hope she got a standing ovation.  The good commencement speeches are rare, and deserve accolades.

So if you're going to give a commencement speech, please remember three things.  One, keep it short.  Twenty-two minutes is the absolute top, since that's the average attention span of an adult who doesn't have ADD.  Twelve minutes is better.  Two, make it about something you care about.  You're there on the dais because of who you are.  Speak from your passion.  And three, don't give advice.  Ever.  That's taking advantage of a captive audience and (usually) a beautiful day.   

How to give a short speech

I often get asked about short speeches, and off-the-cuff remarks.  How do you do them well?  What are the pitfalls to avoid?  It can be surprisingly hard to say something interesting in a very short time, and to avoid running on at the mouth and saying too much.  What's the happy medium, and how do you think about it?

First, I would distinguish between responding to a question, or making a statement of less than a minute or two, and making a short speech of, say, 5 to 7 minutes.  Time constraints necessarily make them two different genres.

The minute speech is best handled as follows.  Decide what you're going to say, take a deep breath, and then give the headline.  "I don't think that mice should be allowed in the Vatican."  Then go on to give up to 3 supporting reasons, depending on your thinking and the time allowed.  Hygiene, worry about the destruction of precious manuscripts, and the eek factor during prayers.  Finally, finish off with a repetition of the headline:  "So that's why I think that mice should be banned from the Vatican."

When you've got more than 3 but less than 7 minutes, think in terms of problem-solution.  If you have a great story to begin the problem section, then do so, but don't allow it to take over the problem section entirely.  You need to spend half of your allotted time discussing the problem in as much detail as you can (which is not much).  Heretical mice are running amok throughout the Vatican.  This deplorable plague has led to illness, destruction of some of the Vatican's most precious artifacts, and the discomfort of many visitors and residents....About half way through your total time, switch to the solution and buttress that with as much logic and passion as you can muster.  I recommend beginning with an excommunication, followed by mice traps, poison, and the playing of Barry Manilow recordings in the basement.... 

That's really all there is to it.  Keep it simple.  If you want to conclude by describing the benefits of your solution, then go ahead, in a sentence or two. 

Repetition and simplicity will help you keep your remarks organized and under control, and will help your listeners follow you. 

How to write a great speech -- 1

I'm going to write a series of blogs on how to put together a great speech, since I've heard a number of bad ones lately. 

Let's begin with first principles.  A great speech puts the occasion, the audience, and the speaker together in an unforgettable way.  All three pieces of the rhetorical puzzle are important. 

When Churchill was going to give his famous 'Iron Curtain' speech after WW II, he didn't go over to the House of Commons, where he delivered most of his orations.  Churchill knew that the speech would be controversial, since the post-war world was not in the mood to hear that war-time ally Stalin was launching the Cold War.  So instead, Churchill traveled to Fulton, Missouri, Harry Truman’s home turf, with the President in tow.  He wanted the imprimatur of the U. S. Presidency so that people would be forced to take the speech seriously. 

The gambit worked.  The speech took a pasting in the press, as Churchill knew it would, but it began a discussion that alerted the world to the dangers of the USSR.  And Churchill’s prescient words remained relevant until the Berlin Wall came down, more than 4 decades later. 

But what if you have to give a speech and you want it to be well-received now, not forty years after the fact? 

You need to consider the audience’s needs.  A great speechmaker possesses great tact.  You have to be prepared to speak to a particular audience on a particular occasion.  Ultimately, then, a great speech is only partially about you.  It’s also about the audience and the occasion.

If you keep that rule in mind, you won’t go wrong.  Ask yourself, who is this audience?  What does it want?  What does it fear?  Why has it invited me to speak to it?  What aspect of my message is relevant to it? 

And then ponder the occasion.  What’s happening right now that will be on the minds of everyone in the room?  What should I not talk about?  What does that audience need to hear?

The first rule of great speechmaking:  consider the audience.

I'm Giving a Speech Tomorrow

I'm in the unusual position of having to take my own advice -- I'm giving a new speech tomorrow.  I usually talk on individual communications, but this time the topic is communicating brands.  That's a subject I've worked on with companies over the years, but I don't usually lecture on the subject.

I rehearsed on Friday, and it did not go very well.  I realized that I need to take my own advice, and quickly.  So here are my three most essential rules for fixing a speech and getting it ready to go, when you're facing a deadline.

First, focus on one message and one message only.  I realized during rehearsal that I was trying to do too many things.  I need to whittle the speech down to one clear message:  Why each employee must become a passionate storyteller on behalf of the company brand in today's marketplace.  I'm going back to the draft to eliminate everything that doesn't support that one point.  Focus is essential for successful public speaking. 

Second, find a good hook that frames the message of the speech so that your audience is intrigued and brought into the discussion.  I've been trying out several openings, one a story, one a question, and a few others.  I've got to pick the one that best answers the question, why are we here?, for the audience. 

Third, deliver the speech in the problem-solution format.  The rehearsal made clear that I was trying to be too clever with my structure.  The only one that makes sense, when you're trying to persuade the audience of something, is problem-solution.  That's because our minds are structured to solve problems, and when we hear one presented to us, we automatically begin to think about how to solve it.  The structure follows our natural thinking processes, so we're happy. 

So I've got some work to do, to repair the speech, simplify it, and focus it on the audience.  Then, I'll be ready for another rehearsal.  The deadline approaches!

What Is the Secret Language of Leadership?

I picked up Stephen Denning's The Secret Language of Leadership with great interest.  It's a provocative title.  Curious minds want to know, just what is the secret language leaders use, or should use? 

Denning sets up a straw man, an uninspiring leader who tries to lead through logic.  This (imaginary) leader presents facts and expects people to follow.  But they don't. 

Why?  Because we're distracted and it takes more than facts to get us to pay attention. 

What does it take?  It takes emotion, and an understanding of our needs as followers.  Beyond that, it takes a dollop of authenticity and a sprinkling of charisma. 

Here's my take on the secret language leaders should use:  begin by realizing that followers need to be respected, and they have to decide to follow a leader, to enlist in the cause the leader is espousing.

A decision is a measurable activity.  It follows certain steps.  And it's emotional.  Here's how it works. 

First, something has to get our attention:  let's say our car breaks down on the highway for the umpteenth time.

We've had it with the old clunker!  We go through an emotional reaction to the misery of finding ourselves stuck on the highway.  That's what motivates us to change.  We wait for AAA to tow us to safety.  Time to research new models -- and our ability to pay for them.

Eventually, we close in on a model.  We convince ourselves it's the best thing on wheels.  We find a dealer, and grimly haggle over a price, expecting to get taken to the automotive cleaners. 

But eventually we end up with a new car, and leaders should use the equivalent of this secret language when persuading followers of the importance of the cause. 

Get our attention.  Get emotional; persuade us that there's something wrong, or that something could be better, or both.  Help us explore the problem and look for alternatives.  Settle in on a new way forward.  Then, talk up the benefits of that way, so we can get over the hurdle of changing our minds.  Then, get us moving on the new path. 

That's the secret language:  Attention, problem, emotion, decision-making, and action.  Understand your followers and your ideas from that point of view, and you can be a leader.  Add in authenticity and charisma, and you can be a great one. 

How powerful is a story?

Just how powerful is a story?  Jim Loehr addresses that question in his book, The Power of Story:  Rewrite Your Destiny in Business and Life.  Loehr thinks about stories the way psychologists do:  as governering narratives that you tell about yourself, your life, your relationships, and that come to have a self-fulfilling aspect to them.  If you believe that you are always fated to screw up intimate relationships, for example, you will do so because you believe it.  Or, if you believe that you will be the next Bill Gates.....maybe you will. 

I don't dispute that what we believe about ourselves often 'comes true' if only because that belief is based on past experience.  But I think a more interesting way to think about stories -- for both individuals and companies -- is to look at how they frame your experiences and thus your life.

If you tell yourself you're on a quest to build the best new little company since Microsoft, for example, then every roadblock you encounter along the way is an obstacle to overcome on your path to the goal.  You'll get past those roadblock with ease because you know the story -- that's what heroes do, they get past roadblock and win through to the goal in the end.  That's a familiar narrative. 

The trick is to psych yourself (and your employees and colleagues) into believing this group hallucination long enough for it to become true.  History is littered with folks who struggled too long, lost hope, and gave up.  In addition to a good story, you need stick-to-it-iveness. 

Yes, stories are important.  They shape how we think about ourselves, our lives, and our work.  But character is also important, and without that the greatest stories in the world will never be lived to be told. 

Storytelling as a functional business art

I read What's Your Story?  Storytelling to move markets, audiences, people, and brands by Ryan Mathews and Watts Wacker with high expectations.  Wacker has been a futurist for a number of years, and his trendspotting is always interesting and illuminating.  The book is most useful when it gives practical advice on how to tell stories that will resonate with other people, your public, your customers, or any other audience you have in mind. 

The basic point is incontrovertible, that dull recitations of facts can't compete with a good story, whether it's to a friend, an audience, or a legion of customers.  There's not much news here.  But what can stories do for you and your company?  Mathews and Wacker are strong on the how-to.  I'll give a couple of examples.

Stories can explain origins.  Did your vision begin with personal computers in a garage, nerdy and high-tech, or did you have an idea about saving money?  Don't give us the facts, give us the story.  Give us the essential Truth, in other words, not the details.  If your origin was with Bill Gates or Steve Jobs, you'll get one kind of (high-tech) story; if it was with Sam Walton and saving money, you'll get another.  Make sure your story is appropriate to the history you're relating.  Wal-Mart actually leads the way in some areas of automation, pushing suppliers relentlessly to achieve maximum efficiency from supply chain wizardry, but you'd never know it when the company talks about Sam Walton's founding vision about small town America and saving pennies. 

Stories can communicate complicated histories concisely.  One of the beauties of a good story is that it can condense a lot of messy facts into a tidy, digestible story.  And that's all most of us have time for nowadays.  We don't want the legal brief, we want to get the emotional underpinnings and the gist of it.  Mathews and Wacker used the example of Charmin and Mr. Whipple -- all of the science, if that's the right word, of making toilet paper soft is summarized neatly and memorably in the silly story of Mr. Whipple trying to stop people (and himself) from squeezing the Charmin.  Brilliant. 

Stories can model behavior appropriately.  Stories become great shorthand for telling us how to behave.  Adam and Eve, the Buddha, the Tortoise and the Hare, Midas, Icarus -- our culture is full of ancient stories that have the aspect of cautionary tales.  Each of these stories lets us know the risks of behaving in certain ways and the opportunities inherent in certain situations.  Companies can use stories in the same ways to show employees how to behave or even to educate customers. 

Stories work well because they respect the way our minds deal with reality.  We've learned from an early age that there are actors, actions, and results.  If you push the glass over, the milk spills on the floor, and the parent rushes around to clean it up.  That's a very simple story, and it's where we begin to make sense of the world.  We get more sophisticated as time goes on, but it's the same thought process. 

We are all storytellers; it's how we make sense of the world.  Effective communication means taking advantage of the power of storytelling to make connections with people, with audiences, and with the public. 

Storytelling -- 3

I've been working hard lately on my new book, tentatively entitled Being Real:  The Four Steps to Authentic Communication, and so I've been slacking off on the blogs.  But here goes on storytelling:  the basic themes.

I've talked and written quite a bit about the basic stories, because understanding them is key to understanding why some stories grab you and some don't.  We have 5 stories hard-wired into us from an early age, because they're fundamental to Western culture and thus the way we think about ourselves. 

The most fundamental is the quest.  We're ready to go off on a quest at the drop of an even slightly possible hat.  We cast ourselves in the role of the hero, we charge off, encountering obstacles and help -- and mentors -- along the way, and then we finally reach our goal and the celebration we're entitled to.  It's so fundamental, in fact, that we don't think of it as a story, but more like a frame of mind, a way of thinking about reality.  They say fish don't see the water they swim in; we're that way when we're on a quest.  It's just what we do. 

So when you're telling a story, if you can turn it into a quest, everyone will get it and your work will be that much easier -- and more successful.

After the quest, there's the love story (LS), stranger in a strange land (SIASL), revenge (R), and rags to riches (RTR).  Each has its own structure and emotional states associated with it; you know these stories deeply if you've watched TV, read books, gone to the movies, and listened to politicians at some point in your life. 

The love story is again one that we don't see as a story, but as a part of life -- it's what happens to us (or doesn't).  We fall in love, we fall out of love, we're happy, we're sad -- it's what we do. 

The other stories are equally basic -- we've all been thrown into a new situation where we don't know the rules (SIASL), wanted to get back at someone who's wronged us (R), and many of us have worked our way up from nothing to something (RTR).  The point is that, in addition to being life experiences, these are stories, which means we will shape our experiences, and certainly our memories of our experiences, to fit the conventions these stories demand.  If you doubt that, listen to yourself the next time you tell one of those tales to your friends that you've told many times.  Where does the exact truth lie, and where do you start to shade things ever so slightly?  Around the conventions that the stories demand, that's where.  You'll find yourself shaping life to fit the construct.

All of which is simply to say that these basic stories are powerful, people get them, and therefore you should structure your presentations around them, because they will make your speeches much more memorable, easy to grasp, and satisfying for your audiences. 

Storytelling -- 2

The next thing to think about when telling a story is structure.  And here again you've heard some pretty useless advice.  A story has to have a beginning, middle, and end, say the geniuses giving out that advice.

But what does that mean?  To the extent that it's true, it's true in a meaningless way.  Just by virtue of the fact that it's linear, a story has to have a beginning, middle, and end.  But you could just as well say it has to have a beginning and an end.  What goes in these crucial spots?  What does it mean to begin a story?  How do you do that?  How do you end with a bang, that's satisfying, surprising enough to keep your audience's attention, and yet not unbelievable?  And so on.

A good story has moments in it that I call points of no return.  In other words, something happens that can't be undone.  Many classic stories begin with a meeting, for example.  Once two people have met, they can't 'unmeet'.  It's a point of no return, and a good way to begin a story.  Love stories pretty much have to begin with the two lovers-to-be meeting.  Many quests begin with the hero meeting someone who changes his or her life.  A mentor, a stranger, an evil demon -- you name it.  Meetings often start things off in interesting ways.  One famous hollywood scriptwriter once said that all his stories either start with 'a stranger comes into town' or 'the hero leaves home'.  The former necessarily involves at least one meeting, and the latter typically involves more than one.

Other good beginnings that are points of no return include murders and other sorts of mayhem.  Until they regularly start bringing people back from the dead, murder is a point of no return.   

Once you've had that beginning action, you've got to raise the stakes.  Star Wars begins with the murder of Luke's relatives, setting up a 'hero leaves home' situation.  He meets his mentor, Obi Wan, right away, but the second crucial scene doesn't come until he finds R2D2 and the intriguing message about plans and rebels that enlists him in the cause against the Empire.  Cleverly, this scene also begins the apparent love story between Luke and the Princess.  A great story often has 2 story lines interwoven, and Star Wars is a good example of this. 

Finally, you have to offer the reader/viewer a scene that brings about a showdown, so that the audience is fascinated with the question, will the hero (Luke) overcome the obstacles (the Empire's forces) and win the prize (defeating the Empire's forces and becoming a leader of the rebel alliance)?  In this case, Luke breaks away from his training with Yoda to help his friends, thus precipitating the showdown. 

Of course, Star Wars is also a longer revenge story involving Darth Vader, but that's for another day.  For now, a great story has three pieces.  Not beginning, middle, and end, but 3 points of no return -- a meeting, raised stakes, and a showdown.

Storytelling -- 1

I'm going to write a few blogs on storytelling, because it's so often talked about and so rarely gotten right.  Most of the time, when people talk about storytelling, they talk about the details -- being vivid, concrete, and specific -- as if that were all there was to it. 

The gun she was holding was still smoking slightly from the barrel, and her hand didn't quite close around it, as if she was reluctant to grasp it, and reluctant to let go.

Is that sentence interesting because of the detail?  Partly, but it's also interesting because of the gun, obviously just fired (who got shot?), and the emotion hinted at in the reluctance passage. 

The point is that there is a lot to telling a story beyond detail. 

And too much detail can kill a story: 

It was last Tuesday, I remember because it was bowling night, and I was wearing my bowling shoes -- the ones with the purple laces so I can find them in a crowd of bowling shoes -- when I was driving to the Lanes. 

I guarantee you're not interested in hearing more of that one.  Am I right?

So the first lesson in storytelling is that detail does matter, but only if it's important to forwarding the story.  Detail isn't inherently interesting. 

And the second lesson in storytelling is that the stakes (for the characters) have to be high enough to hold our interest.  E. F. Benson built a whole mock epic around two people who lived in a tiny English town where nothing ever happened -- and everything.  The battles royale over who was invited to what party and the decisions to snub so and so -- all of this becomes fascinating because it's so important to the characters involved. 

The third lesson is, when in doubt, add a gun.  That almost always ratchets up the fascination. 

Next time I'll talk about structure. 

Take a lesson from Achilles

When it comes to thinking about how to present your material in a speech, take a lesson from Achilles.

Let me tell you the story.  There came a time during the Trojan War when things were not going well for the Greeks, camped in the plain outside Troy.  Achilles, who was a bit of a manic depressive, had taken to his tent, feeling blue.  As the Greeks' principal hero, he was getting bored slaughtering Trojans, and he was feeling underappreciated by his colleagues.  He thought he was doing all the work -- and indeed he was. 

But with Achilles out of the action, the Greeks were losing badly.  Soon, they were desperate.  So they sent an envoy to Achilles, to beg him to come back to the fray. 

Now, because the Greeks were clever, and had invented rhetoric, they were too smart to do what most speakers do -- start dumping information on the audience.  Did they whine to Achilles?  Did they say, "hey, we're getting creamed without you -- help"? 

They did not.  Instead, they framed their message in terms of the audience's interest and needs.  They understood that Achilles was a prima donna who was feeling underappreciated.  So they began their presentation with egregious flattery, reciting all of Achilles' feats of war and telling him what a wonderful fighter he was.  Then they got into the teensy-weensy problem they had, that the Greek war machine was nothing without him. 

Soon Achilles was back on his feet, killing Trojans left and right.  The Greeks were back on top, and the denouement was not far off. 

The point is, frame your message in terms that matter to the audience.  Does that mean you should always begin with flattery?  No, not unless your audience happens to be an aging warrior with self-esteem issues.  Frame your message in terms that matter to your audience.  That's how you create a successful speech.

Storytelling

A lot of ink and electrons have been spilled (if that's the word) on storytelling.  Surprisingly little of it is helpful.  How do you tell a good story?  The advice varies, from useful-sounding stuff like, include the telling detail to focus on what you know.  The best book on storytelling is one about myth, Joseph Campbell's The Hero with a Thousand Faces.  It's an exploration of the power of the quest in our culture. 

But even Campbell doesn't tell you how to structure a story.  How do you put together a narrative so that people will want to listen to it?  Better yet, how do you keep them on the edge of their seats? 

Here's how.  A good story has three elements.  Call them plot points if you like.  Three things have to happen in a story in order to make it interesting. 

First, there has to be an incident that gets things started.  It has to be an irrevocable incident -- something that, when done, can't be undone.  Most great stories in our literature, movies, and plays start with a meeting.  Once two people meet, they can't 'unmeet'.  Another way to go is to subject the hero to some event that suddenly thrusts her out of her usual world into a new (and typically dangerous) place.  One of my favorites -- I forget the story -- was very simple.  The heroine returned from some ordinary activity only to find a note that said Don't go home.  That's a great starter, because it raises the stakes and a thousand questions.

Second, there has to be a further incident that raises the stakes.  Romeo and Juliet meet and fall in love.  Great.  But then they get married, secretly.  Suddenly the stakes are raised, because in that era a marriage was final.  And now the feud between the two families will find unbearable tension in their joining.  Exciting stuff.  We want to find out how they're going to manage it. 

Finally, there has to be a third incident that brings about a showdown of some sort involving at least one of the main characters.  In Romeo and Juliet, Romeo duels with and kills Tybalt, a young man from the other clan, and this leads to a showdown -- either Romeo stays and faces murder one, or he flees. 

That third incident then precipitates the rest of the story.  We want to know, how will Romeo resolve this dilemma?  And how will Juliet react?  The great stories reveal the true characters of their heroes in these moments.  Both Juliet and Romeo kill themselves when they believe that the other is dead.  That's why they are icons of true love forever in our culture.

That's all there is to good storytelling -- 3 crucial incidents.   It's that simple.  And that hard:  the art is in picking the right incidents.  Craft them cleverly and you will be a storytelling master.   

Who is the hero of a speech?

Most of us are accustomed, whether we acknowledge it or not, to cast ourselves in the role of hero of our own life.  Apologies to Dickens and David Copperfield, but for most of us, it's a foregone conclusion. 

What happens when we give a speech?  The temptation becomes irresistable.  After all, you are the one who is standing up in front of everyone else, talking, laying bare your feelings, moving the audience to action.  If ever there were a heroic moment, that's it, right?

Wrong.  Think instead of casting the audience members in the role of the hero.  They are the ones going on the journey -- if the speech is to be successful.  They are the ones who will learn something, change their minds, decide to act, become inspired.  They are the ones in whom the speech will live, if it does.

So make the smartest move of your public speaking life and allow the audience to shine.  Allow that sea of faces out there to become the hero.  It will change how you think about public speaking, for the better.

How does it work in practice?  Spend your time developing the speech with the audience in mind.  Ask yourself, where are they at the beginning of the speech, before the journey?  How can I persuade them to pay attention, realize that something has to change, begin the journey with me?  What shall I say for their ears, not for my ego?

When you're giving the speech, focus on the audience.  Make it about them.  Ask them how they're doing.  Interact with them.  Challenge them at appropriate moments of your presentation. 

And after the speech is done, follow up.  What did they get out of the experience?  What feedback do they have for you?  How can you make the journey more compelling the next time?

The audience is the true hero.  Pay attention to its story. 

Take your audience on a quest

Life is a quest, and so is a good speech.  Quests are something we understand; they are deeply imbedded in us from an early age from movies, books, games and stories our elders tell us, if you were lucky enough to have an elder who told stories.

Because we understand the genre, it's a great advantage when we're working our way through a speech.  It's hard to retain information aurally; we need all the help we can get.  If we have generic expectations, then we can match the information coming in with our expectations.  That's an easier way to retain things than if all the material coming at us is a complete surprise. 

So take your audience on a quest.  How do you do that?  A quest has a hero, an initial challenge or problem to get things rolling, and a journey in search of something -- a cure, a magic bean, a lover, a kingdom -- almost anything is possible -- and a final goal.  Quests work well in business presentations when you're trying to take a division somewhere, launch a new product, or business, enter a new marketplace, achieve a quarterly, yearly, or any kind of goal, and so on.  And doesn't that describe most of business activity?

Cast your audience as the hero, not yourself.  The challenge is whatever you're hoping to achieve, overcome, put an end to, or begin.  And the journey involves lots of sacrifices -- all the sacrifices the audience will have to make in order to reach the goal.  But they'll expect -- even demand -- to have sacrifices, because that's what heroes on quests do. 

An audience on a quest is a happy audience.  Don't let them down.  Challenge them and they will not disappoint you.