Did you know that fear of public speaking is, at least according to some sources, the number one fear in America? I was reminded of this strange fact by today’s podcast of “Happier in Hollywood” that is hosted by Liz Craft (Gretchen Rubin’s sister) and her writing partner Sarah Fain. They interviewed a consultant who works with speakers, especially those who are going to appear at TED Talks. The consultant is very funny and helpful, with some really great insights. I’d encourage you to listen to the episode, especially if you suffer from and struggle with this fear.
BUT—I’m not interested in discussing stage fright strategies, mainly because I don’t need them, at least for public speaking. I love, love, love getting up in front of people and telling them something they don’t know. I love playing with ideas about how to get people engaged and interested in what I have to say. I love interacting with the audience afterwards in question-and-answer periods. I don’t miss classroom teaching at all with its discipline problems and its lesson plans to be turned in ahead of time and its papergrading and its gradebooks. All of that went by the wayside very easily for me. I do miss getting to stand up and tell stories, though. And since I’ve been out of the classroom I’ve had to grapple with finding opportunities to speak. They’re few and far between. (That’s why I’m planning to start a podcast, just like about 50% of the known world. But I don’t have anything ready on that front yet. Stay tuned!)
So I have a hard time understanding why someone would dread, fear and loathe any kind of presentation. This week Liz revisits how nervous she gets when she and Sarah are doing a “pitch” for a story idea. Think about it: You’ve spent months, probably, coming up with a great idea for a TV series (or a movie, but Liz is a TV writer), and now you have to put it over to a group of executives who’ll decide whether or not it’s worth making into a pilot. What could be more fun? It’s not as if there’s anything hanging on it, right? Just months of your life. Liz gets so nervous that her hands shake and she feels dizzy, and she often takes a drug called a beta-blocker that slows down your heart rate and lowers blood pressure. (I think I may have written about this before, but I can’t find it, and it struck me all over again today, so, so be it.)
When I hear Liz talking about her agonies over pitches I’m not too sympathetic. Why isn’t she excited about getting to present her ideas to people who might actually make it possible for those ideas to come to fruition? (She and Sarah along with Marcia Clark—yes, that Marcia Clark—have had a pilot approved for a possible show called “The Fix.” They’ll find out in May if it will go to series.) Come on, Liz! But you know what? The very same symptoms she describes having at a pitch have hit me like a ton of bricks when I’ve been up for playing the piano in front of people. Even five people. There have been times when I’ve been playing a little three-minute offertory and my hands have been shaking so badly that I could hardly play. And let’s not get started on the sweaty palms! When I foolishly, foolishly signed myself up to play in a piano recital over 20 years ago I sat there clutching a kleenex and wiping my palms off with it through the whole first part of the evening. Somehow I’d ended up near the end of the program, which only prolonged the agony. But if I’d been a speaker instead of a player, I’d have been sitting there champing at the bit to get up there in front of everybody.
Why is this? I honestly don’t know. I’ve often thought that it’s because I messed up on “The Skater’s Waltz” in a piano recital when I was 12 years old. I still carry that dreadful memory even to this day. But you know what? I totally and completely forgot the words in the middle of a poem I performed at my high school’s spring concert when I was 18. Just blanked out. (It was Alfred Noyes’ “The Highwayman,” in case you’re interested.) Eventually I remembered and went on, and that experience should have scarred me for life and made me worry about forgetting every time after that. But it didn’t. I went on to major in speech when I went to college, and I remember being pretty nonchalant about my memory lapse even at the time. I don’t recall being particularly embarrassed. Hey! These things happen! But I was totally humiliated about the piano recital. What made the difference? Again, it’s a mystery to me.
In my particular instance I was perfectly free to just give up playing the piano. That activity was never anything vital. I wasn’t making a living by playing, or anything like that. (I would have starved.) So one day I just said, “This isn’t worth it” and quit playing (or trying to play) for church. Liz can’t do that, though. She has to keep soldiering on if she wants to continue with her career. Doing pitches is just part of the package, and she can’t make Sarah do all of them. (It isn’t clear whether or not Sarah gets quite as nervous as Liz.) What should she do? Well, following the excellent advice from the coach in this podcast is a good place to start.
As I said, though, my point here isn’t really how to overcome stage fright. It’s the question of how individuals react differently in the same situations and how we can be helpful to each other. It’s going to do less than no good at all for me to say to someone sweating out a presentation, “Oh, I love public speaking.” I’ll be lucky if I don’t get a ball-point pen thrust through my heart! Kind, calm sympathy is always in vogue, with perhaps a specific offer to help: “Would you like to tell me your introduction?” Something. Anything. Just a recognition that sometimes life is hard can be soothing. I’ve been struck before with how different my attitude is about a special meal or party depending on whether or not I’m in charge. If it’s on me, I find it impossible not to worry some, even though this is another activity I enjoy.
In the end, we all have to deal with our own demons. But after being reminded once again of Liz’s nervous breakdowns I’m going to look for more situations where I can be a lifeline, where I can perhaps take some of the burden away from someone’s shoulders. How about you? Is there someone you could help through a stressful situation?