I think we need to stop calling them presentations.
Because the word itself gives us permission to do something pretty average.
We “present” the information.
We put some slides together.
We stand at the front.
We talk through them.
And when we get to the end, we’ve technically done what we were asked to do.
But if you want to hold an audience’s attention, influence how they think and actually make them feel something?
It’s not a presentation. It’s a performance.
That distinction matters.
A performance is supposed to be different
When I’m on stage, I’m not exactly the same Michael you’d get at home.
That would be weird.
I don’t walk into a room at home and announce:
“WELCOME! IT IS SO GREAT TO SEE YOU!”
Well, not normally.
There’s a difference between having a conversation with someone in your kitchen and communicating with hundreds of people from a stage.
The stage requires more.
More energy.
More expression.
More movement.
More vocal variation.
More of you.
That doesn’t mean becoming somebody else.
It means understanding that the version of you that works perfectly well across the dinner table might not be enough to reach the person sitting at the back of an auditorium.
Performance doesn't mean fake
This is where people can get uncomfortable.
“I don’t want to perform. I just want to be authentic.”
Good.
So do I.
But why have we decided those things are opposites?
Performance doesn’t mean putting on a fake personality.
It doesn’t mean adopting some ridiculous speaker voice.
And it definitely doesn’t mean copying someone else.
The goal is to find you and make that person bigger.
I describe it as being:
Confidently, unrestrictedly you.
That's very different from pretending.
I'm an introvert
People sometimes assume that because I speak for a living, I must naturally want to be the centre of attention.
No.
I’m super introverted.
After events, I need time to recharge.
But introversion doesn’t stop me performing.
Because the energy I bring to a stage isn't about whether I want to spend the rest of the evening talking to 200 people.
It’s about recognising what the audience needs from me while I’m up there.
They’ve given me their attention.
My responsibility is to do something worthwhile with it.
Your audience needs more than information
This is where a lot of presentations fall over.
The speaker knows their stuff.
The information is good.
The slides contain everything they’re supposed to contain.
But there’s no performance.
And information alone doesn't automatically hold attention.
Your audience can read information.
If you’re going to stand in front of them and deliver it, you have an opportunity to do something a document can't.
Use your voice.
Use your face.
Use your body.
Create emotion.
Build tension.
Make them laugh.
Pause.
Move.
Give the information life.
That's what performance adds.
Be you. Just bigger.
The next time you practise a presentation, pay attention to how much of yourself you're actually allowing into it.
Are you speaking the way you normally speak?
Are you using your face?
Are you moving naturally?
Are you letting your personality come through?
Or have you suddenly become “Presentation You”?
You know the one.
“Good morning. Today I'm going to talk to you about…”
Where did you go?
The answer isn't to manufacture a different personality.
It's to bring more of your actual personality into the room.
Bigger.
Bolder.
More expressive.
More committed.
That takes courage.
Because being confidently, unrestrictedly yourself in front of an audience can feel incredibly exposing.
But that's also where the power comes from.
So the next time someone asks you to give a presentation, perhaps change the language in your own head.
You're not there simply to present information.
You're there to perform it.
