The art of public speaking is passion, not performance

Ten years ago, I gave a lecture at MIT. I stepped onto the stage and looked back at the many pairs of eager eyes staring back at me. Distracted by what they thought of me, I froze – and when I started to introduce myself, I quite literally forgot my name.

Thankfully, it was emblazoned on my first slide. Although, for a panicky second, I did think ‘Solitaire? That sounds a bit weird.’

Fast forward to today, and I’ve given hundreds of talks to audiences all over the world. Most recently, I made a TED talk that’s been watched by over 800,000 people and counting. When waited in the wings of the TED stage, the nerves hadn’t gone anywhere – but happily, I didn’t forget my name (or my lines!). The difference was that I know something now that, all those years ago at MIT, I hadn’t learned yet: that being a good speaker is not about my performance or my confidence. It’s about my passion.

My TED talk is on a topic I am deeply worried about, angered and inspired by. I describe the enormous power wielded by advertisers and lobbyists who grease the wheels of the oil and gas industry. How they exert their enormous influence will determine whether we tackle the climate crisis, or fuel it.

The idea I shared in my TED talk was the culmination of 20 years of working in and thinking about sustainability communications. It’s an issue that matters to me, and one that I desperately wanted to share with the world. To do that well, it was crucial that I do one thing: focus on my message, not on myself.

An actor performs for their audience; a speaker is in service to their idea. Giving a lot of talks also means seeing a lot of talks, so I’ve watched my fair share over the years. I’ve noticed that while those who speak confidently, project their voice, and have charisma on stage are enjoyable to watch, their ideas are not necessarily the ones I remember. The ideas that have stuck with me, that have excited me and changed my thinking, often came from speakers who clutched nervously at their notes or looked at the floor. These speakers weren’t comfortable on stage, but their content was something they cared about and understood in depth.

Of course, forgetting yourself in service of your message is a whole lot easier said than done. TED was perhaps my greatest test. The cameras, the professional hair and make-up artists, the TED uniform (which I learned only at the last minute requires jeans and a jacket) – all turned the spotlight onto me, not my idea. But experience told me to focus on the topic, not my top. And when I did, my talk flowed much more naturally. So much so that someone noticed my childhood accent, from a Bedford council estate, slip into my speech as I relaxed into sharing my message. I reconnected with my emotions on my topic – my fears, concerns and hopes surrounding the future of advertising – and became a vessel for my idea

We should all consider this when congratulating a speaker after their talk: it’s nice to be told you’ve given a great talk, but it’s far more exciting to be asked questions that engage with the content. Walking off stage to find viewers leaving comments on the TED app and meeting requests from people inspired by my content is what mattered most to me.

So, if you have an idea that needs sharing, forget about how to perform it on stage – instead, let your passion make you an advocate for it. You are already the best channel for an issue that is important to you. The world is waiting to listen.