4.6. ABRAHAM LINCOLN, PRESENTATION COACH
If you're cowering in anticipation of yet another one of those Lincoln-did-it-reading-by-candlelight-so-why-can't-you-get-the-Nike-account talks so often given by bosses, you can relax. Though I advocate the pursuit of excellence in all areas, I realize that encouraging people to shoot for Lincolnesque historical significance will make us more likely to end up paralyzed in our closets, sucking our thumbs rather than standing on stage with confidence. I'm not saying there are limits to your greatness; it's just best not to compare yourself with Lincoln in a competitive manner. It's not that he was a better person than any of us. Well, he was sort of.
How surprising! We have lessons to learn from our nation's most lauded public speaker and arguably most important president. During times of war we venerate Washington, but this year would have been Lincoln's 200th birthday if people lived that long. Thus, he's on our minds. Something of our current president, Barack Obama, calls to mind the echoing orations of Lincoln as well. They share a command of the inspirational, a penchant for cadence and word choice that seems to grip an audience's ears, and a height advantage over most of their peers. Obama scorns the top hat—evidently a decision that may ultimately be the deciding difference between the two men. Time will tell.
Modern media coverage makes it possible for us to view and review speeches, isolating with sterile precision the intonations, facial gestures, and enunciations that make or break good communication. We can record a voice and digitally compare it with the cadence of another until we grasp what it is that is so aurally arresting about the sound. Yet for all our science, at the end of the day, there is one plain and simple reality: Either we join the speaker's plea, or we don't. No amount of technical tweaking can trump the movements of the heart.
Thus, 200 years after his birth—with no video, no recordings, and few pictures—we are still able to reconstruct the singular talents of an incredible president. By distilling them down to the actionable steps we all can take, we can perhaps elevate ourselves on his example, even if we cannot equal his unparalleled strength. The following are some of the ultimate presentation god's best-known tactics.
4.6.1. Abe the Beanstalk
Of course, from a physical standpoint, Lincoln stood out in a way that only tall people can—that is, by being tall. But he didn't rely solely on this natural endowment to deliver the full effect of his stature: he added a top hat. He had height, so he underlined it 20 times and drew arrows all around it. He was an outsider, a country boy of sorts, and he combined this reputation with his physical originality to suggest that he was a solid, immovable force. In the end, his character and bearing backed up every perceptual promise several times over.
We can't all be taller than everyone in a room, but the lesson to be learned from Lincoln isn't "be tall"; it is "accentuate your strengths." Think of Woody Allen's hyper-nerd glasses: they force us to see him as the character he so often is. What about Jim Cramer? His shtick is the up-all-night frenzied stock trader, and his outfit—coat off, suspenders, tie on but loosened, sleeves rolled up—makes you feel like he's talking to you in the 11th hour of the best or worst day in history. Granted, the standard for entertainers is different than for the average presenter, but everyone has an opportunity to use appearance to help deliver the message. Is your style quirky and offbeat? Try an outfit that's just a little step apart from the norm, with a bowtie or silly cufflinks. Are you a driver, using build-up and energy to ram your point home? Trademark powerful dress, coordinate ties with your slide deck, and make the presentation a train that people must board before you run them over.
Every presentation god follows Lincoln's example here. To be the best, we must be magnetic and commanding. Lincoln was a farm boy. I can promise you he did not feel magnetic when he began to raise his ambitions. He took stock of his assets, from physical to mental to ideological, and turned every aspect up as loud as it would go. It's a good thing he did, too: Otherwise, can you imagine what the import taxes for sending this book from New York to Georgia would be?
4.6.2. Stutter Suppression
Presenting puts you up on a pedestal; it produces a feeling in most people akin to reliving, in slow motion, the most humiliating moment of adolescence. In our personal terror, we often forget that this pedestal simultaneously engenders feelings of admiration, envy, and submission in the audience, essentially forming an impenetrable barrier against embarrassment on our behalf. Until we stutter 43 times between the words, "Good afternoon," that is. The wall can come down, but it is there.
For all we know, Abe Lincoln may have spent 10 minutes behind an oak tree puking his guts out before delivering the Gettysburg Address. But from the moment he opened his mouth, he proceeded as if he was ordained by God Almighty to save the nation.
You need not be bold, courageous, or decisive in the face of challenges and deadlines, or possess any other admirable quality to be a stellar presenter. You may find it difficult to be invited on stage without these qualities, but once there, you only have to convey those qualities. For the other 23 hours of every day spent off stage, you can cry into pillows, ask for your mother, and drink out of bottles and Sippy-cups. When you step on stage, though, it's time to channel Lincoln: Think calm and composed. Imagine that the entire universe is aligned to support your every effort. Audiences know far less about us than we think. Take solace in that fact—and get that bottle out of your mouth!
4.6.3. Preparation Proclamation
Even if you can stand flat-footed, stare directly into the eyes of a giraffe, and ask, "How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?" without stuttering while watching someone take the thing you love the most—say, a childhood blanket—and tear it in two, you are not automatically walking among gods. That is, physical presence and cool delivery in the face of enormous pressure don't make you a star. When it comes down to it, audiences do two things: watch and listen. Because of this, you'll need to actually say something meaningful at some point. This is one of those pesky little truths about public speaking.
Abraham Lincoln agonized over his content. His ideas were born out of genuine reflection during long, long walks. He scribbled his nebulous thoughts on scrap pieces of paper, contemplated, wrote, and revised them. His raised his content with meticulous deliberation out of the hatchery of his mind. By the time he gave a speech, the ideas were fully formed, distilled from raw ingredients into potently influential monologues.
True preparation goes beyond memorization. It is the pursuit of such thorough familiarity with every facet of your content that you go far beyond merely delivering a message; you personally represent it with your heart, mind, and body.