#39 Give a Talk? How About a Conversation Instead?
There I was. On stage in Stockholm. Halfway through the session. Mouth dry. Water. I reached for the glass, but had to set it back down. My hands were trembling too much to drink. I'd have to use both hands, and that's not something I want to show my audience.
Late last week, one of the speakers at the Ambition Conference canceled at the last minute. My colleagues Pontus Wärnestål and Nathalie Tindsjö, who were moderating, asked if I could jump in. As a semi-public figure within the design field, people generally assume I'm comfortable with public speaking. The truth is, I hate it.
A hundred thoughts raced through my mind. Recruiting a relevant speaker for a 15-minute ignite talk in Stockholm with only a few days' notice is incredibly difficult, even with a wide network of experts. I've spoken in front of large audiences before, so the question made sense. I wanted to say yes. But I also knew that agreeing would mean sleepless nights, severe self-doubt, and mild panic attacks.
The Cognitive Cost
The stress from formal speaking situations turn me into a diminished version of myself. Words I know suddenly become strangers. Ideas that flow naturally in conversation get trapped behind a wall of self-consciousness.
When the spotlight hits, I lose about 30% of my cognitive capacity. Deduct another 20% for speaking in English instead of my native language, and suddenly I'm operating at half speed. My normally clear thoughts become a tangled mess.
It's even worse when I can't see or interact with the audience. Speaking to audiences online can feel like talking into a void, especially when everyone's cameras are off. On stage, bright lights often make it hard to see faces clearly. I need to look people in the eyes, see their smiles, their confusion, or their nodding heads.
To me, there's a huge difference between giving these formal talks, which I genuinely dread, and participating in discussions, which I truly love.
Moving to Conversations
"You know what's interesting? You're so much better when you’re answering questions, or when you’re just speaking from the heart. It's like watching a different person emerge."
A while back, I worked closely with David de Leon, a great designer, a good friend, and someone who's truly mastered public speaking. We often supported each other by critiquing our performances. After one particularly stressful presentation, he pointed out that I'm generally better unscripted.
He was right. Reflecting on my past experiences, my best performances were always in interactive formats.
When Pontus and Nathalie asked me to step in, Pontus suggested a Q&A format right from the start. That suited me much better than a talk and it finally tipped the scales in favor of saying yes.
Interestingly, even with all the stress I experience on a stage, when I'm focused on conversation, my brain shifts resources away from anxiously monitoring myself and towards exploring ideas I'm genuinely interested in. Suddenly, I regain at least some cognitive capacity.
Nowadays, on the rare occasions when I do give presentations, I've developed a strategy: I turn them into conversations. I pause to ask questions. I invite challenges. I openly admit uncertainty and ask for input. This not only ensures that everyone is engaged but also significantly reduces my anxiety by shifting the attention away from me alone.
Choosing My Battles
So why do I still give presentations? Honestly, I don't. At least not very often. I've accepted it's simply not my format. I much prefer discussions or writing. If I do agree to present, it's because I feel it's "necessary" (whatever that means) or because I have a message that I really want to share.
I take comfort in knowing I’m in good company. Many years ago, when I tried to get sci-fi writer William Gibson to speak at From Business to Buttons, he gracefully declined, explaining he doesn't give talks but could participate in a Q&A. The same happened with Steve Wozniak. While scheduling conflicts prevented Gibson's session, the Q&A that Jan Wifstrand moderated with Woz was truly enjoyable for everyone involved.
I’m sure their reasons differ from mine, but perhaps this is what I'll do as well. No more talks, but the occasional Q&A would be, if not enjoyable, so at least manageable.
So, for now, I’ll keep choosing my battles. I’ll say yes when it truly matters, lean into formats that play to my strengths, and remind myself that even some of the greats prefer a good conversation over a formal talk. Public speaking might not be my thing — and that’s ok. Until the day I decide to tackle it head-on, I’ll keep coping the best I can.
And... the next time I’m on stage, I’ll be sure to bring a bottle. Because when my hands are shaking, it’s just easier to drink from a bottle than a glass.