Giving a speech yesterday I was reminded of the enormous psychic cost of standing up in front of a group of people to share your passion with them. Yes, the adrenaline feels great while it’s there; yes, it’s a privilege; and yes, you’re the center of attention for a while. But sooner or later after the speech the adrenaline is going to fade like the spotlight, and you’re going to be left with your self-critiques, your might-have-beens, and your fears.
How did my speech go? I had recently been working on the first half of the speech, setting up the problem statement, and I was trying something new, so I was not as comfortable as I normally am with stuff that I’ve delivered a number of times before. That and a series of last-minute logistics challenges added to unusual stress at the start, and so it was a while before I settled into my normal jolly speech persona. Set against that a great, involved audience that asked wonderful questions throughout, and I truly can say that the audience made the occasion fun for me. The first comment came about 1.5 minutes into the talk, and we were off and running. All the interactivity derailed my timing until I stopped fighting the flow and remembered that speeches are about audiences and not about speakers’ agendas. Overall, I'd give myself a solid 'B' with thanks to a very lively audience.
Then came the aftermath. The adrenaline does leave you. Fatigue mixes with self-criticism in equal measure, and the result is not necessarily a pretty picture. So following are steps you can take to survive the inevitable letdown after the speech is over.
1. Leave the scene. As soon as you can politely and politically manage it, leave the scene for a quieter place where you can let your hair down, preferably in the company of a close companion or two. You’re going to be vulnerable, and the last thing you need is the well-intentioned critiques of people who have attended the event and who want to tell you how adding in their particular issue will strengthen your talk.
2. Don’t ask for critiques for at least 24 hours. Don’t fall for the “while it’s fresh in my mind” trap. It’s too fresh in your mind. You need to get a little distance so that you can hear the suggestions for improvement with dispassion and clarity.
3. Don’t rewrite the speech for at least 48 hours. Again, you need a little distance. The urge to fix all the moments that felt awkward need to be set against a better understanding of what happened with the particular audience and setting. Will the speech (for good and ill) go the same way again, or was it something special to the evening? You can’t effectively make that judgment for at least 48 hours.
4. Change the subject. Watch a movie, a favorite TV show, read a book, go for a walk in tranquil – or distracting – surroundings. Whatever appeals to you most, do it, as long as it doesn’t involve The Topic or The Instant Replay.
5. Let it go. If you’re a frequent speaker, get ready for the next speech by going over the critiques and necessary changes once enough time has gone by, but let go of the event itself. There’s nothing to do at this point about the past except celebrate and take your next opportunity with all the energy and optimism you’ve got.
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