Structure Archive - This Moment Counts

Running out of time

If you know what you’re talking about, there will always be more interesting things to say than you have time to say them.

The common approach is to try anyway and fit as much of it into the talk as possible.

And it makes sense, doesn’t it?

In a way, yes.

But then again, how well does it work usually?

It risks overwhelming your audience …
… or you run out of time on stage because it took longer than the speaker expected.

I bet you’ve seen it just as often as I have.

Ultimately, it means that either the audience or time will decide on what sticks.

That’s why I think a better approach is to do the exact opposite:
Put in as few things as possible.

Put in the things that your audience absolutely has to understand.

Start with only one thing.
(Yes, only one thing!)

What is the most important thing that your audience needs to understand?

And then put in the second most important thing.

And the third.

Until you hit the time limit.

That way, what will be left out, will be the least important things (obviously) – and you’re in control of what that is.

(Btw, it will also usually make for a much more focused and engaging talk.)

At the speaker’s mercy

As a speaker, you’re in the driver’s seat.
Which can be a problem for your audience.

If you drive too fast, they’ll miss the point.
If it’s too slow, they might fall asleep.
And if you choose a bumpy road, 
they‘re probably not going to enjoy the ride.

Reading a book is different because the reader is in control of the pace with which they process the information.

They can slow down,
skip ahead,
flip a few pages back and
re-read some information.

In a speech, the audience can’t do any of that.
They’re at the speaker’s mercy.

As a speaker, being aware of that helps in making the ride more enjoyable and satisfying for your audience.

Keep in mind, though, that not everyone enjoys the same kind of ride. While some audiences love the feeling of a sports car, others prefer the feeling of a well-balanced limousine.

We need more structure

Maybe you do. But maybe you need something else. Like, for example, clarity.

The two are not to be confused.

Many websites are well structured. But they are far from clear.

Many corporate presentations are well structured. But they couldn’t be more confusing.

Many scientific papers are well structured, yet not clear at all.

A bureaucracy is often well structured. But totally confusing.

The problem with all of these examples is that they are made not for the final receiver but for a different audience. The website is made to please the board. The presentation is made to please the boss. The paper is made to please the reviewer. And the bureaucracy is made to please the system.

Don’t confuse structure with clarity.

The (real) importance of the first impression

Every once in a while a study pops up that proves the importance of the first few seconds of a speech. Often, the conclusion is that the first impression would be the most important part of your speech.

Yet, one crucial aspect usually gets overlooked by these studies: Great speeches are often great from the start. Not the other way around.

As humans, we’re quite good at estimating the quality of a talk from a few impressions. Body signals, voice signals, but also the clarity in the text. We’re super quick to make first estimations based on these signals. Amazingly often, these estimations prove to be correct.

Here’s the pitfall: The speech is not great because it begins great. The beginning is just an accurate snapshot that we base our estimation on. Judging from a short snapshot of the middle or the ending of a great speech would quite likely predict the quality of the speech just as accurately.

Great speeches are usually great throughout the entire duration of the speech. (Because the speaker cares, actually knows what they’re talking about, prepares well and rehearses thoroughly.)

It’s a mistake to focus on the beginning of a speech as the deciding factor (if only because great speeches exist that started poorly and vice versa).

The better strategy is to make a great speech and make it great from the start.

Caring on behalf of your customer

When you’ve got an important story to tell, it can be super-hard to focus on a clear and concise message. It really hurts to leave out the details. After all, it’s precisely because you care for the details that your product is so extraordinary.

It’s also the reason we buy from you. We buy from you because you care for the tiniest pieces and sweat the details.

But I myself don’t need to know all the details. I don’t need to become an expert in your craft myself to appreciate your craftsmanship. I don’t need to become an artist myself to admire your art.

On the contrary: I want you to be the expert so that I don’t have to become one. I want you to tell me the essence of your story so that I can decide for myself whether I want you to dig deeper. What’s easily overlooked: If I don’t want you to dig deeper, it might not mean that I don’t care. It might just mean that I trust you to care on behalf of me.

Juggling with thoughts

Almost anyone can juggle two balls. Many can do three. Four is rather difficult. More is impossible for most.

Juggling thoughts by keeping several things in mind at the same time is quite similar … Two? That’s easy. Three? Still easy. Four is more difficult, and then it quickly gets really difficult. The more complex the things you have to keep in mind, the more difficult it is to keep multiple things in your mind.

Of course, that’s also true for your audience. If we juggle too many balls in a speech, it will be difficult for our audience to keep track. Sooner or later they will drop a ball … and while they’re still busy picking it up again, the next thought balls are already falling to the floor.

Unfortunately, most topics – especially those worthy of being the subject of a presentation – are rather complex. Usually, three balls just won’t get the job done.

Fortunately, though, thoughts have a property that physical balls don’t have. Thoughts can combine to form larger thoughts. Thoughts can trigger other thoughts.

Apples, pears, and bananas become fruit. Fruits, vegetables and grains become vegetarian food. Vegetarian diet has effects that you first illustrate through a story and then abstract to derive a specific dietary recommendation.

Yet, at any given time, we kept a maximum of four thoughts in the air so that everyone could follow along effortlessly.

Complex in nature, yet simple in narrative.

With a clear story and a great structure, we can get extremely complex things into the minds of the audience. We just have to make sure to build the complexity step-by-step.

Thoughts on outlines

In the corporate world, outlines are still pretty much mandatory at the start of a presentation. Also, they are pretty much wasted time.

Outlines have a very simple purpose: to provide peace of mind. That’s what any audience is looking for at the start of a presentation. They want to be sure that it’s safe to follow you on your journey. Or at least that it’s worthwhile. That their time is invested well listening to you.

“What is it exactly that she is going to tell us?”, i.e. an outline, is one way of providing that peace of mind. But not the only one. Another way would be to have a strong opening that makes it totally obvious: “Where is she going with this?”.

But there are others.

What’s actually more important than how you provide that peace of mind is to make sure that i) your audience trusts you that you know where you’re going with this and ii) you’ve made it obvious to them that it’s ok to trust you, i.e. that you’re leading them to some place they actually want to arrive at.

Whether that actual place is obvious from the start is secondary. Whether you mark it using an outline or other means is secondary.

What’s primary is that you need the trust that it’s worthwhile to follow you there.

History vs. Story

It’s spelled “story” – without the “hi” at the beginning. Still, many people approach telling stories as recounting historical events. In a chronological order. Even if their audience couldn’t care less about how it all began.

It’s much more interesting to ask yourself what gets your audience most excited. What’s most surprising to them? Or most interesting. And then work from there. Once you tell them, what do they want to know next? And next. And so on.

For example, sometimes it’s more interesting to work backwards by asking “How was that possible?” or “What led to this?” Just like some of the most exciting detective stories start with knowing who the murderer was but leave the audience dying to learn why she did it.

The guiding star is our audience’s curiosity. What are they dying to know? More often than not this is different from the chronological order of events.

Don’t make your story a history lesson, make it an interesting story!

Posts in Tag: Structure