MumblingYou’ve now identified your point, learned how to convey it and stick to it, and realized the imperative of selling it versus sharing it. That knowledge alone puts you way ahead of your competitors and colleagues.
Now it’s time for extra credit: strengthening your point through key presentational understandings and techniques.
Many people—people you know, people you report to, even people you admire—end their declarations as if they’re questions, using a higher pitch at the end, even though no question was posed. It’s often called uptalk or upspeak.
Listen for it by saying these two sentences aloud, with particular attention to the punctuation:
“Our customer base has tripled in size?”
“Our customer base has tripled in size.”
Some people have an innate ability to end their talks with periods; others can’t help but uptalk everything out of their mouths. It’s not even connected to experience or other communication skill sets. Some of the most accomplished public speakers are chronic uptalkers, and some of the least experienced speakers I know can easily end their sentences with periods. Whether or not you’re a natural uptalker, the habit can be very destructive to the successful conveyance of your point. When you ask a question—even if it only sounds like a question—you’re indicating “I’m not sure.” But when you end with a period, you’re saying, “This I know.”
To test this, I have my students listen to me count from one to five two different ways. Afterward, I ask them to tell me which presentation of numbers conveyed the most strength, confidence, and authority.
I say the first line like this:
1?
2?
3?
5?
I say the second line like this:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
Of the thousands of students who’ve taken this admittedly unscientific test, an overwhelming majority have felt the second group—the ones ending in periods—sounded stronger, more confident, and more authoritative merely on the basis of ending on a period versus a question mark. Nothing else changed, and keep in mind these weren’t even words or ideas—just numbers. The mere sound of a question dramatically reduced the strength of the conveyance. This is why correcting uptalk is important.
The first step in shifting from uptalk to what I call “power periods” is training your ear to recognize the question mark. Listen to bosses and colleagues. Listen to news anchors and television hosts. If you can stand it, listen to politicians. Train your ear to listen for uptalk in others, then in yourself.
When you reach the point where you can catch yourself engaging in uptalk, you’re at the point where you can train yourself to use a power period instead, especially if your pace is slow enough to take that deliberate step.
The goal isn’t to have all of your sentences end with power periods. But can you guess what part of your presentation benefits most from a power period (hint: the most important part of your presentation)?
That’s right. Your point.
Three of the best power period users I’ve ever seen were Presidents Ronald Reagan, Bill Clinton, and Barack Obama. Imagine each of them saying these lines in office:
“This economic package will dramatically improve the lives of middle-class Americans.”
“These laws will strengthen our homeland security.”
“The state of our union is strong.”
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that these former presidents were—and for Clinton and Obama, still are—among our most admired public speakers. It’s not because they were presidents; it’s because they each knew how to convey “this I believe.”
Intimate conversations are always more compelling than distant ones. This means speakers should get as close to their audiences as they can (without falling into their laps). President Clinton used this tactic during town hall debates when he physically approached the individuals he was engaging. The big idea is not just moving closer to your audience, but removing obstacles between yourself and them. Those obstacles include podiums, tables, clipboards, iPads, pens, pointers, clickers, and even your hands.
Truth be told, the reason most speakers hold things in their hands or clasp their hands together is so they can transfer nervous energy onto those objects. Indeed, holding an object can feel very comforting. But the detriments outweigh the benefits when you realize these props are distracting your audience from your point.
This is why TED speakers reject podiums and tables and generally keep their hands separated. It’s also why you should move closer to your audience if and when you can, and always speak in the light (even when sharing a projected presentation). Yes, darkness is an obstacle too—how can you champion your point if the audience can’t even see you?
Speaking of not being seen, people who call in to business meetings suffer the greatest handicap in successfully making their points. This handicap is somewhat reduced in video meetings, but video callers typically look at their screens, not into their cameras, and thus rarely connect directly to their audiences. If you care about making your point to an individual or a group, it’s important to be present, both psychologically and physically.
When I stand to speak, I remove everything from my hands and my pockets, move podiums and tables aside, and even take off my glasses. Basically, I do everything I can to avoid distractions, reduce indications of nervous energy, and create more direct connections between me and my audience. I know these measures will strengthen my point, or at least reduce the number of obstacles in front of it.
The simple act of increasing volume reaps tremendous benefits for anyone trying to convey a point. Yet when I ask my students to deliberately “speak too loudly”—without shouting—they rarely do. Most simply can’t bring themselves to speak too loudly, even when I beg them. At best, they’re a little louder than they normally are, and only for the first few words.
The rare few who can speak inappropriately loudly on command are never able to keep it up. By the sixth word, they’re generally either at a perfect volume or still too soft.
So let’s first dismiss the notion that you will ever speak too loudly. Most people either can’t do it or won’t allow themselves to do it because of the self-conscious alarm bells it will set off.
Now consider all of the public speaking errors corrected merely by increasing volume:
Mumbling
Speaking too quickly
Ending sentences with question marks instead of periods
Talking too quietly
Volume is truly a public speaking gift that keeps giving. When my students simply raise their volume, that change alone makes a profound difference in their projections of strength, competence, and authority.
Speaking loudly not only boosts your points, it can also boost your career. It makes interns sound like managers, and managers sound like vice presidents. And counseling an unassertive employee to be louder is a much more actionable request than asking him to “demonstrate more leadership.”
If you’re on a microphone or on a teleconference, maintain a loud, strong voice. Too many speakers in these situations drop their voices to a conversational volume, not realizing they’re reducing the power of their points as well.
Finally, remind yourself and your staff that the burden of making sure everyone can hear the speaker is entirely on the speaker, not on the audience. This is true even in large rooms and for speakers phoning in. No speaker is entitled to extra accommodation because he happens to be “a quiet person.”
The benefits of volume should apply to both genders equally, but occasionally a female student shares a fear that if she increases her volume, she’ll be perceived as “aggressive” or “shrill,” which she believes might turn an audience against her.
I don’t pretend to be a scholar on the subject of gender bias, but when this happens, I’ll often ask her and other female students to share their points at a decibel they consider “inappropriately and uncomfortably loud.” Then I survey the room: “Does she sound aggressive?” I ask.
The typical response: a unanimous “no.” Are her classmates being politically correct? Perhaps, so I ask another question:
“How did she sound?”
Answers that come back usually include these descriptors: “strong,” “confident,” and “assertive”—all indicators of a well-conveyed point.
This doesn’t mean there isn’t gender bias out there or that you’ll never run into it; there is, and you will. But I believe these biased judgments happen most often when communicators are on the defensive, or on the attack—not when they’re busy making their most substantive points. Conversely, the more focused you are on your affirmative point, the less likely you’ll be accused of seeming aggressive. And consider recent passionate speeches by women who were universally judged as nothing short of powerful:
Michelle Obama’s speech at the 2016 Democratic National Convention. If I’ve ever seen a perfect speech—from the first word to last—that’s the one.
Meryl Streep’s acceptance speech for the Cecil B. DeMille Award at the 2017 Golden Globe Awards. If that award sounds familiar, it was the same honor bestowed in 2016 on Denzel Washington, whose acceptance “speech” we looked at in Chapter 2.
Viola Davis’s moving acceptance speech while receiving the 2017 Academy Award for Best Actress in a Supporting Role.
If you fear being considered shrill or aggressive, and are considering going softer or “more casual” to avoid it, Google and watch these speeches for inspiration.
My overall suggestion to those who fear such perceptions is to ignore them. Don’t customize your conveyance to match unfair biases in your audience—that’s their problem, not yours. Your job is to step up, even when your audience’s job is to grow up.
Another peril of low volume is falling into a pattern of “croaking.” This is often called vocal fry, and many people do it subconsciously. Some even do it consciously. If you’re unfamiliar with the sound of vocal fry, Google “Faith Salie Vocal Fry” and watch Faith’s 2013 YouTube video, featuring textbook vocal fry by the Kardashian sisters. Another famous vocal fryer: Bill Clinton.
It’s unclear why some people order up more vocal fry than others, but one of the biggest causes is power failure—lackluster energy directed to your voice. So one antidote is energy in the form of volume. Applying energy and strong articulation are probably the two most effective ways to overcome power failure and vocal fry. In fact, I often tell my clients this before their big speeches: “If you’re not tired at the end of this speech, you haven’t given it enough power.” That doesn’t mean you should shout your speeches; it means you should simply put enough strength and air behind your points to give them the power they deserve.
This energy can come from sheer will or a deliberate sugar rush, but it’s also boosted by a good night’s sleep and a good meal—a lesson you should have learned the hard way in college. Nothing puts an audience to sleep faster than a low-energy speech—regardless of point or subject matter—and vocal fry is a strong indicator of that.
It’s tempting to believe that, if you pause, the audience will think you’ve forgotten what you were going to say, like an actor who’s forgotten his lines. The pause also feels awkward—your mind is thinking: “Shouldn’t I be speaking right now? Shouldn’t someone be speaking?”
But in reality, pauses are not your enemy; they are your ally.
First, recognize that it takes twice as long for your audience to process a thought as it takes for you to say it. Pauses create important gaps during which that critical understanding can sink in. Consider your points like water being poured into the soil of a potted plant—it takes time for the water to be absorbed and go deep.
When you pause, you also create useful dramatic suspense for your audience—“What will happen next?” The audience will then stay tuned in until your very next word. This is one reason good speakers often pause just before conveying their points.
Handled confidently, pausing also tells your audience, “I’m thinking right now, in front of you,” which is very exciting for them. Audiences like “live” experiences, including plays or sporting events, and pausing gives your presentation a spontaneous—versus canned—feel.
Pauses are also the proper substitute for nonsense crutch words like “umm,” “ahh,” and “uhh.” It’s hard to simply stop saying those words, but pauses give us an alternative. With practice, you can effect a successful transplant.
But the best reason by far to pause is that it buys you the time you need to construct precise statements. For many of us, our mouths run ahead of our brains, meaning you’re saying things before you’ve fully conceived them. Pausing reverses the order, so that your mind is in front of your mouth, enabling you to fully conceive that idea before conveying it.
Here’s a way to test this. Right now, out loud, describe one of the things you most appreciate about your job and why that aspect fulfills you. Begin it like this: “One of the things I most like about being an X is. . . .” (If you hate your job, imagine a better one—this is just an exercise, not a performance review.)
Done?
Now do it again. But this time, keep this in mind:
I have all the time in the world and can pause as many times as I need to, and for as long as I need to, to say exactly what I mean.
Embrace that concept of no-penalty pausing, and try again.
Was there a difference? The pauses should have helped by giving you time to prepare your phrases. If your pauses were very long, practice will help bring them down to a manageable size. And if you’re worried about the impact of those pauses, know that an audience rarely says, “That was a great presentation . . . except for all the pausing.”
Pauses are rarely remembered by the audience, because, simply, it’s hard to remember a moment of nothing. So use pauses to build suspense, to leverage spontaneity, and to create points with precision. It will take some practice, but when you ultimately embrace the pause, it can be one of your point’s best friends.
