We have all seen people speak or perform when it’s apparent that they’ve done this same piece the same way dozens of times. The voice finds a certain cadence and they anticipate specific audience reactions. There is a filter between themselves and the audience. They are watching  themselves perform. These folks are practiced. 

They get the job done, more or less, but they don’t have enough distance from their work to view it objectively. They do their piece the same way every time, and they get nice comments afterwards, so it’s fine. And yeah, maybe it’s fine.

But what you can create, what waits on the other side of practiced, is present. And this is so much more interesting, and contains so much more possibility, than fine. 

The way you get to present is through such familiarity with your content that you don’t have to think about it. There is no part of you that is wondering what you’ll say next; you are riding the wave of your intention and practice, and they are going to carry you to the shore of present.

Did your mother ever tell you to sit up straight?

My mom did, and I hear myself saying it to my own kids now. Here’s why–

Sitting up straight is a movement that immediately changes other physical behaviors, too. Your eyes look up and out, your shoulders roll back, and your neck straightens. You’re ready for action.  This sends the message to others that you’re alert, you’re engaged, and you’re paying attention.

Even more important, sitting up straight sends yourself the signal that you’re alert and engaged. Sometimes choosing the behavior of attention is the first step to actually being more attentive.

The street I live on doesn’t have a sidewalk. Runners, people walking to the bus, drivers, and cyclists share the same road. Traffic is relatively sparse; there are seldom several cars at once going in either direction.

When I’m walking on the road outside my house and a car is coming towards me, one of two things happens. Either the driver slows down and pulls way over into the opposite lane, giving me almost my whole lane to myself, or the driver maintains their speed and swerves just enough not to hit me.

Both actions keep me alive and the driver from going to jail. But the first choice demonstrates that the driver is aware that I’m a person, in the road, and that I’ll probably feel safer if they do more than required. Slowing down, giving room—these are ways we signal that we’re willing to go the extra mile (or in this case, a few yards) to ensure that others feel safe around us.

It’s thoughtful to let other people know you notice them, and that you’re being safe on their behalf. Let’s do all we can to take care of each other.

A few years ago I watched a remarkable documentary called 20 Feet from Stardom. This film follows the careers of several back-up singers—men and women whose names you probably don’t know, but who had enormous influence on music you’ve heard all your life.

They sang with the Rolling Stones, Elton John, Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, Sting, Bruce Springsteen, and many others. As we hear through interviews and archival footage in the film, their talent, skill, and craft transformed the songs they worked on. These iconic songs simply would not have been as rich, as full, or as good without the back-up singers.

We work with other people, even if we work alone. There are elements of our jobs that we do with others, whether they are back-up singers, editors, co-workers, partners, virtual assistants, outside vendors, the UPS guy, or the barista who keeps us caffeinated. Take time to notice what layers and levels they add to your work. Should they be singing lead?

And if you’re in that role, (sometimes we sing lead and other times backup, even in the same job), notice how important your note, your harmony line, and your choreography are to the whole of what your team does. 

A new friend of mine, Ginger Davis Allman, wrote something really smart recently that she said I could borrow for you. Here it is:

There’s a difference between SKILL and INFORMATION. My students often assume something is a talent, so they seek information, not realizing that what they’re missing is a skill. Skills come from practice. Doing the thing. 

The other Ignite coaches and I joke that many of our clients would rather do almost anything than practice the skills we’re coaching. They don’t mind talking about being better public speakers. They don’t mind looking at their slides or notes. They’ll discuss the theory of being a good speaker, and they’ll even talk about great ways to practice.  But when the moment comes to stand up and actually “do the thing” as Ginger says, they say, “What, right now? You want me to just…do it?”

Yes.  All the other stuff is just information. Information is helpful, but you have to apply it by actually doing. 

Practice is the link between information and skill.

Learn more about Ginger’s work here: www.thebluebottletree.com

And read what she wrote about information, practice, and skill here: https://mailchi.mp/543c4c90bd5f/the-muse-skill-is-a-choice

Every time we interact with another person, that experience adds to their cumulative understanding of who we are. If we behave, on balance, with impatience more than with empathy, that’s who we become to others.

It doesn’t matter if I don’t think of myself as an impatient person if that’s how I behave. 

This matters most with those closest to us. The people who love us are most likely to forgive us our lapses, but there is more at stake with those relationships.  What’s the average of their experience with you? Looking at your interactions from their perspective, how would they describe you?

What we do matters, especially over time.

We are often hired to coach people who have been told they need more “executive presence.” 

This is one of those pieces of feedback that is completely in the eye of the beholder; it’s a moving target. Often, “improving executive presence” simply means “look and act more like the person giving the feedback.”

If that’s the case, then, how do we define executive presence in a way that’s helpful? Most often, people describe presence by saying how the person who has it “seems.” They seem confident, they own the room, they aren’t nervous.

It’s a subjective quality that we can only coach by getting specific—we have to get down to behaviors. When we really look at what makes certain people have presence, it’s a combination of things they actually do.

In general: the behaviors that create the feeling of executive presence include having appropriate volume for the room, good eye contact, no vocal rushing, and no distracting movements that seem nervous or agitated.

And all of these behaviors are linked to intention. When you have an appropriate volume for the room, that means you want to reach and connect with all the people there. When your eye contact includes everyone but doesn’t sweep the room, never resting, it means you’re taking the time to make sure your message is landing. When you don’t rush, it means you’re glad to be there and you aren’t trying  to get it over with. When you’re composed and not prone to distracting movement, that means you’re channeling your energy towards your audience.

The link between intention and alignment is profound. What you are telling yourself about why you’re there is the primary driver of your behavior. And the combination of intention and alignment is presence.

On this Labor Day in the United States, I’m curious.

What is your labor? I don’t mean “what work do you do,” but instead “what feels like labor to you?” Another way to think about this is: what work do you do that you need respite from?

This question is coming up for me because of how often I am hearing people–friends, family, clients, colleagues–say that they are weary. Something in their work is draining, is unfulfilling, is sapping their energy.

As you look at your workday, can you identify the tasks, projects, and even people who feel like labor to you? What can you do to mitigate that sense of work? It’s not always possible to outsource or delegate the laborious tasks, but we can be intentional about how we think about them, and how much mental space we allow them to have.

This insight is crazy, I know. But I mention it because it seems to me that even though we know this, in our brains, we still struggle to really take it in.  Different people…like different things. 

For us as communicators, this can be confusing because we succeed with one group and then fail with others. “Why didn’t that joke work this time? Why did that story fall flat? Why did this audience seem impatient to leave and the next one wanted to ask a million questions?” 

And this uncertainty is uncomfortable, so we look for solutions. 

Appeal to all the learning styles. 

Have visuals for the visual people. 

Tell a story. 

Make sure there are charts for the more linear thinkers. 

These are all good suggestions, by the way. But they don’t really get to the heart of what’s going on here, which is that there are always going to be variables that are outside of your control. There is no way to dislike-proof your speech or presentation. You cannot create the ideal experience for all audience members—it’s not possible. 

So what to do? Stay true to your message and your intention. Keep it short. Remember that people can’t recall a lot of information without a structure, so give them the structure.

And most important, make sure you give them a reason to care.