“Where can we see one of your talks, Clementina?” Two business-friends asked in unison.
We were all at a conference where I’d become known for helping people write talks. I’d seen these two gentlemen at the bar and had gone over to say hello. They complimented my work, shared some great feedback they’d heard about me, and then promptly put me on the spot.
Hummna-hummna, hummna, hum.
“I don’t have a talk you can see. I mean…I was a professor for twenty years. I can…I have, I, I, I…”
Oh this sucks.
“Shall we get another drink?” One said to the other who agreed. Even their gracious exit was an act of generosity. I thanked them both, said I’d see them later, and excused myself for the ladies room so I could let the enormity of the gift I’d just been given sink in.
Truth be told, I also needed to regain my composure.
In my work with others, a big part of my job is pointing out gaps; to think I’d missed such a huge one in my own was unsettling.
These friends of mine have been coaches for years. They’re astute. The message I heard from them loud and clear was this: If I was going to continue to grow, if I was going to be a sought-after speech-writing coach, if I was going to reach more people, I was going to have to walk my talk. I was going to have to create talks people could see.
I was going to have to make myself more visible because they were going to have to see it to believe it.
In other words, I was going to have to speak to the skeptics who could have easily accused me of being one of those teachers who taught because she couldn’t do.
How about you?
Got something like this going on?
Know speaking is part of your evolution and, yet, you’re not doing it?
Or maybe you started…then stalled out.
Worst part is you know there are people out there who would benefit from what you have to say… If only you could teach them what you know.
Let me guess, you dream up collaborations with people you haven’t met yet and you don’t know how you’re ever going to make your vision a reality without ideal people becoming aware of who you are and what you do.
You’re on an emotional roller-coaster ride between exhilaration at what you know you can achieve and how daunting your own destiny feels.
Resonate?
Dimi Tutto. It’s an Italian phrase; the closest I can give you to a translation is tell me all. Wish we had something so handy, so beloved, so compact and open in two English words but we don’t.
I’m interested in knowing as much as I can about your experience wanting to do the thing you’re not doing. What’s standing in your way? If you were accepted to a Ted or Tedx tomorrow, would you be ready?
E-mail me or reach out to set up a call. I promise not to judge. We may be able to help each other.
I’ve known speaking to large audiences is part of my destiny for a long, long, time. As early as four or five years old, whenever I’d feel particularly lonely or left out (which was a lot of the time), I’d go to the basement of my grandmother’s house and talk to my audiences.
They always understood me
But for reasons I won’t get deep into right here, right now, I’ve struggled to step into this inevitability. I’m much more comfortable here behind the keyboard or in a radio-format where people can listen to my voice and not see me.
Suffice it to say, historically, the idea of putting myself out-there to an audience comprised largely of strangers, and the camera itself, have felt potentially predatory.
Turns out Greek Gods, Goddesses, and Super-Heroes of all kinds have had good reason to don invisibility caps and cloaks to protect themselves.
But invisibility doesn’t pay the bills, or get the message out, or create inspired change. It won’t bring you closer to your dreams.
So many of us layer on superficial excuses about why we’re not ready. We blame our bodies, or our budgets, or our businesses. Sometimes, when I try to out my fears, people respond by telling me not to worry. “You’re photogenic, the camera loves you,” they say. While these are kind responses, they don’t do much good because we’re usually not even in the ballpark of talking about what any of this is really about.
Even after years of working on it, it’s challenging for me to have a camera, and thousands of eyes watching. That said, I’ve come to the place in my life where I care more about accomplishing what I’m here to do than standing on the sidelines wishing it would magically come true.
As long as I’ve focused on my fears, I’ve wanted to move forward but I’ve stood still. The gap between where I was and where I knew I wanted to be, a chasm I was too reluctant to cross.
Friends and family who were watching–especially those who’ve seen me speak–seemed pained too. “Do you know what it’s like for the people in the room when you stand up and speak?” my husband asked me last year when I told him I’d signed up for yet another speaker training.
“I know that my students get a life-changing when they need one.”
“Focus on that,” Dominic said.
Or my friend Meaghan, she came to see me do a small gig on body image and professional development a few years ago. Said she went home and told her husband she’d buy whatever I was selling. I wasn’t selling anything but here’s the kicker: She wished I were selling something! She said, “I’ve had coffee with you like every day for the last six years, and I had no idea you could do that.”
At the urging of people who know me best, I went back to my teaching roots, to the reasons I do what I do. I remembered my first year. Recently heartbroken, recently recovered from a freak accident, I was a mess. I cried every day on my way to class. I kept a package of face wipes and my make-up case in the front seat of my car. I’d always park facing the reservoir, and I’d take a few minutes to look out at it and meditate on my students. Like I’d been only a few years before, many of them were first generation college kids. Their success was high-stakes. As far as I was concerned, their lives depended on it. When I thought about that, I’d wipe off my face, apply moisturizer and makeup, take a deep breath, and walk up to the third floor.
Ready or not, here I come.
Something miraculous always happened when I walked into class, put my preparation behind me, and turned myself over to my student’s learning: My preparation met my presence.
It was like a space on the top of my head opened up and a powerful energy came through me. The energy wasn’t a substitute for preparation; I was prepared. It was an addition to it and in order for that addition to happen both parties had to be there.
Teaching to a live audience always makes me feel strong.
Perhaps you’ve heard what Lao Tzu wrote, “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” I fell in love with that saying my first year teaching. And it was only this last year I learned that there was a second part I never knew, “When the student is really ready, the teacher will disappear.”
I love it even more now. When I think of all the teachers I’ve loved and lost, all the students that have come and gone, well it makes so much sense to me now.
Don’t you just love the idea that it’s the student’s readiness that creates the teacher? The idea that the teacher doesn’t exist without the student, that the student creates the teacher–not the other way around–it’s such a beautiful re-frame.
I don’t know about you, but I always root for the underdog.
I studied teaching, prepped and aimed for perfect pedagogy (no such thing) but none of it compared to my time in the trenches actually doing the work with real live people.
If you want to speak, know this: Your audience is everything.
There were around 365 people in my keynote audience for the Society of Research Administrators International. It was my largest audience to date and here’s what I took away:
When I turn myself over to my audience’s learning, speaking is teaching.
When I turn myself over to my audience’s learning, there’s no difference between 30 or 365.
When I turn myself over to my audience’s learning, I don’t care that the cameras are there or that eyes are on me; the more the merrier.
When I turn myself over to my audience’s learning, I am free.
Want to see what I mean? Watch this 5 minute, 4-part video that my sweet, smart, and talented new business-friends at EmVision created for me to celebrate and share with you.
“I’ve seen hundreds of keynotes, yours was among the top five,” said Brian Squilla, VP of Administration at Thomas Jefferson University.
Niem-Tzu “Rebecca” Chen–MS, MEd, CCRP Human Subjects Protection Senior Analyst at Rutgers–said she was “profoundly moved.” That the “navigation” my talk provided made her “aspire to aim higher and be more grateful.” She said it was the “tone, heart, and lens” I shared that ushered in the realization that she could “expand her view of life and the world.”
Higher aims, more gratitude, expanded worldview: three reasons why I do what I do. Feedback like this, that’s so aligned with my intentions, makes all the preparation worth it.
Want to cross the chasm too? I’m creating a class called Walk Your Talk where I’ll help you do just that because I can’t stand the thought of you standing there all invisible when people need to see you, hear you, learn from you.
No more excuses. No more fear. I’ll have you feeling the freedom in twelve short weeks + a live event at the end where you’ll cross the chasm with a real live audience.
Interested in more details?
Interested in being part of my creative process?
If so, email me and we’ll set up a time to talk.
And, hey, even if you’re not at all interested in the course but you’ve got something you want to communicate to me about what you’ve just seen, or read, or about what you’re working on, please write. I ALWAYS LOVE hearing from YOU.
Ciao for now!