I used to be utterly, cripplingly terrified of public speaking. With a bit of training and practice, I’ve come to really enjoy it, and I reckon pretty much anyone can have that same change.1
On Saturday I was at a Society of Authors event in Norwich called ‘Building a presence online’, speaking on a panel alongside author
and head of Salt Publishing Christopher Hamilton-Emery.I’m including a video of my presentation with today’s newsletter, but have put it behind the paywall: given that the attendees on the day were required to buy tickets to the event, it would seem unfair to them if I put the video up for free.2 In recording it I cleverly obscured some of the slides with my own daft face, but I don’t think it gets in the way of any of the points being made… 🤦
What I really want to write about today is public speaking, and on presenting as ‘an author’ in front of other people without cringing.
Saturday’s event was a full room of switched-on and engaged writers from the region, all of us gathered in a 16th century medieval merchant hall.3 A nice cross-section of ages and genders, fiction and non-fiction. Beginners and seasoned pros.
Doing an author event is an odd experience, in that you’re suddenly thrust into a position of authority. The assumption is that you’re the expert in the room, and you then feel compelled to evidence that in some way by not proving to be an idiot. For writers, who are used to writing in solitude and quiet, it can be a startling shift into a very public space. It’s an awful lot of eyes on you.
In a previous life, many years ago, I once attended a training session delivered by the extremely Californian John Bates on public speaking.4 It’s probably the best training I’ve ever done, and transformed my perception of doing this sort of thing. He talked about all sorts, but the most useful tips were:
An audience will reflect the emotions of the speaker. If you’re visibly nervous, the audience will feel uncomfortable. If you’re enthusiastic and friendly, they’ll return that sensibility. Even if you walk in a room and the attendees are clearly wanting to be somewhere else (not an issue on Saturday!), as long as you commit to the right attitude you’ll likely turn them around as they absorb your optimism. This process starts from the moment you enter the room, not when you start your talk.
You’ve been invited to talk for a reason. Don’t doubt or second-guess yourself. You have a unique perspective on the topic that will be useful and of interest.
Use slides as a memory aide for the audience: don’t just read from them. If you have entire paragraphs on your slides, you’re doing it wrong. Ideally you want a word, or a sentence, or an image.
Don’t use bullet points. Bullets are for the enemy.
Something I’ve found useful over the years is to think of my writing as a distinct entity, as if it were a business. That creates a slight distance between me and it, and makes it easier to talk about my books without feeling like I’m showing off or being narcissistic. It becomes easier to promote your work when you shift the thinking towards the work itself. Nobody likes doing self-promotion, but promoting a book your created feels more acceptable. Book-promotion instead of self-promotion.
This was the first author event I’ve done since I self-published my book No Adults Allowed. I had half a dozen copies out on a table, but didn’t push them to the attendees. They weren’t there to see me or buy my stuff; they were there to learn about the topic at hand. What I did do was point out some mini business cards I’d had made, with my newsletter URL printed on:
What I found interesting was how I had to really force myself to suggest that people grab a card. There’s still a part of me that recoils at the idea of ‘selling’ my own stuff, even though this was just a pointer to the website. Even though the point was so that people could contact me afterwards if they had further questions.
None of this comes easily.
The point, though, is that it was a fantastic and rewarding event. Not because of us three panellists (although I like to think we did a good job), but because the audience was so engaged. The questions at the end of the session were exactly the sort of questions everyone should be asking when thinking of writing a newsletter.
Talking about writing with other writers is so enervating — that’s why I enjoy writing this newsletter, about why Notes is currently a very rewarding place to hang out online. Nothing quite compares to being in a room with people, though, and sharing in that collective dedication to creativity.
If you get a chance to talk, take it. You never know who you’re going to meet. If you’re writing, you’re a writer, and you will have a valuable point of view to share. And there’s a very good chance that you’ll learn all sorts of thing from the other people in the room.
I hope that was useful, especially for anyone in the same place I was 15-20 years ago when the idea of standing up in front of people and talking about what I do was the most terrifying thing imaginable.
(because this post has a paid element, comments are forced to paid subscribers only, which is really annoying. If you have questions on any of the above, but can’t comment, come find me on Notes)
I’ll see some of you on Wednesday for the next Babylon 5 rewatch episode (it’s a big one), and everyone else on Friday for a new Tales from the Triverse chapter (it’s an ever bigger one).
Finally, here’s me getting excited by a box of books:
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