There’s an idea I come back to constantly when I’m speaking, coaching or working with a room full of leaders.
You’re a conduit.
That’s all you are.
You’ve got an idea, some knowledge, an experience or a message that somebody else needs.
Your job is to get it from you to them.
Sounds simple.
Except there’s something sitting right in the middle of that conduit.
You.
Your insecurity.
Your self-doubt.
Your preparation.
Your fear of being judged.
Your need to get it right.
Your concern about forgetting something.
Your imposter syndrome.
Your internal voice wondering whether everybody else in the room is smarter than you.
The more attention all of that requires, the less attention you have available for the people you’re supposedly there to serve.
And that’s why I believe becoming a better communicator requires something that sounds almost contradictory.
Before you can stop making it about yourself, you sometimes have to do some work on yourself.
My workshops are built in three parts
There’s a structure I’ve used for years in my speaking workshops.
Three parts.
Which, appropriately enough, is itself one of the Charismatic Leadership Tactics.
1. Part One:
You.
2. Part Two:
Your audience.
3. Part Three:
Your performance.
And that order matters.
We don’t start with:
“Here’s what to do with your hands.”
We start with you.
Where are you struggling?
What’s the problem?
What pain is that creating?
What are the ripple effects?
What needs to change?
What becomes possible when it does?
And what positive impact could that have, not only at work, but in your actual life?
Because before I can help somebody become more valuable to an audience, I need to understand what’s currently getting in their way.
Don’t tell me where you want to be. Tell me where you are.
I had a conversation recently with somebody who wanted to improve their communication.
That’s a perfectly reasonable goal.
But “I want to be a better communicator” doesn’t tell me very much.
So I kept digging.
What actually happens when you’re speaking?
What do you experience?
When does it happen?
Eventually:
“My heart races. I get really nervous.”
Better.
Does that happen whenever you’re speaking to people at work?
“No.”
When does it happen?
After some more digging, we got there.
Senior executives.
That changed the problem completely.
They didn’t have a general fear of communication.
Something was happening when they communicated with people they perceived as having greater status or authority.
Now we have somewhere useful to start.
Because until we understand the actual behaviour, we’re trying to solve a blurry problem.
Part One: It’s all about you
I deliberately make the first part of my workshops about the speaker.
Because sometimes the conduit needs maintenance.
If you’re standing in front of an audience thinking:
Do I look nervous?
What comes next?
What if I forget something?
Do they think I know what I’m talking about?
Why is that person looking at me like that?
Oh shit, where am I in my slides?
then physically you’re in the room.
Mentally?
You’re somewhere inside your own head.
Your attention has turned inward.
And that’s incredibly restrictive.
It’s difficult to notice an audience when you’re busy monitoring yourself.
It’s difficult to listen when you’re busy judging yourself.
It’s difficult to be responsive when you’re desperately trying to remember your next sentence.
It’s difficult to create connection when most of your cognitive capacity is being used to manage threat.
So we work on you first.
Not because you’re the most important person in the room.
Almost the opposite.
We work on you so eventually you can stop thinking so much about you.
Part Two: It’s not about you anymore
Once we’ve begun dealing with those barriers, the attention can move outward.
Now it’s about them.
Your audience.
What do they already know?
What don’t they know?
What do they care about?
What are they worried about?
What problem are they trying to solve?
What language will make this easiest to understand?
What story might help them recognise themselves?
What metaphor could make a complicated idea simple?
How are they feeling about the change you’re asking them to make?
What do they need from you before they’ll trust where you’re taking them?
This connects beautifully with something I’ve spent years studying: charismatic leadership.
A surprising amount of charismatic communication is fundamentally audience-focused.
Stories.
Metaphors.
Rhetorical questions.
Reflecting a group’s sentiments.
Three-part lists.
Setting high goals and communicating confidence that those goals can be achieved.
Even simplifying your language is an act of service.
You’re doing work so the person receiving your message doesn’t have to.
That’s a very different mindset from:
How do I look impressive?
Part Three: It’s not a presentation. It’s a performance.
Only then do we really turn our attention towards performance.
Your voice.
Your face.
Your gestures.
Your movement.
Your pauses.
Your physical presence.
Your stories.
Your slides.
Your delivery.
Because now we’ve got something worth performing.
We’ve dealt with some of the noise inside you.
We’ve thought deeply about the people in front of you.
Now we can ask:
How do I deliver this in a way that gives them the best possible chance of receiving it?
That’s performance in service of an audience.
And that’s a very different thing from performing for attention.
Insecurity constricts the conduit
This is also why preparation matters so much.
Imagine I haven’t prepared properly.
Part of my brain now needs to remember what I’m supposed to say.
Part needs to work out where I am.
Part is monitoring time.
Part is operating slides.
Part is dealing with the physical effects of nerves.
Part is worrying about whether you can see that I’m nervous.
There’s not much processing power left for you.
Preparation removes some of that load.
Practice removes some more.
Skill removes some more.
Experience removes some more.
And gradually I become more available to the audience.
The conduit opens.
This is why the work I do on myself before walking onto a stage ultimately isn’t about me.
I prepare myself so I can forget myself.
Confidence isn’t the destination
We talk a lot about confidence in speaking.
I understand why.
People want to feel comfortable.
But confidence isn’t particularly useful if it only makes you feel better.
The interesting question is:
What does your increased confidence allow you to give somebody else?
If I’m more confident, perhaps I can hold eye contact rather than retreating into my slides.
If I’m more prepared, perhaps I can notice when the audience isn’t following me.
If I’m more concise, perhaps I can make an important idea easier to understand.
If I’m more congruent, perhaps people find it easier to trust me.
If I’ve developed greater charismatic range, perhaps I can give the room the energy it needs rather than the energy that feels safest to me.
That’s when personal development becomes valuable.
It changes what becomes available to other people.
The work and life distinction is mostly bullshit
This is another thing I’ve noticed after years of coaching people.
We like separating “professional communication” from “personal communication.”
I’m not convinced the human brain is particularly interested in our organisational chart.
When somebody learns to communicate more clearly at work, they don’t suddenly lose that ability when they walk through their front door.
When somebody learns to listen properly, that affects more than meetings.
When somebody becomes more comfortable expressing themselves, that can change conversations with colleagues, partners, friends and family.
Confidence ripples.
Clarity ripples.
Congruence ripples.
Charisma ripples.
So when I’m helping somebody identify what they want to change, I’ll often ask what positive impact that change could have professionally.
And then I’ll effectively ask:
What about in your real life?
Because this stuff shouldn’t only make you better in a boardroom.
You’re still you when you leave it.
Self-awareness isn’t self-obsession
There’s an important distinction here.
Becoming less self-focused doesn’t mean ignoring yourself.
It requires knowing yourself.
Where do I become insecure?
What triggers me?
When do I shrink?
Where am I underprepared?
What behaviours appear when I’m under pressure?
What am I avoiding?
Where am I getting in my own way?
That’s self-awareness.
Then comes self-development.
What can I learn?
What can I practise?
What range can I develop?
Then self-management.
Can I access those skills when I actually need them?
I’ve used a line around this idea for years:
Mastery of ourselves is forged in the fiery crucible of self-reflection, self-awareness, self-development and self-management.
A little dramatic?
Absolutely.
I am a keynote speaker.
But the principle matters.
You can’t manage what you’re unwilling to notice.
Get out of the way
Some of the best moments I’ve experienced on stage are the ones where I’m barely thinking about myself at all.
I’m in the room.
I’m watching people.
I’m feeling the response.
I’m present.
The preparation has been done.
The content is there.
The performance skills are available.
And my attention can go where it should have been all along.
Outward.
Towards them.
That’s the goal.
Not becoming so confident that you think you’re the most important person in the room.
Becoming skilled enough, prepared enough and self-aware enough that you don’t need to be.
Because you have something worth sharing.
And somebody else might genuinely benefit from receiving it.
So do the work on yourself.
Understand your fears.
Deal with your insecurities.
Develop your skills.
Prepare properly.
Practise.
Build your range.
Then get the hell out of the way.
You’re a conduit.
Let the message through.
