When we watch American Idol, we may talk about the competitors’ singing skills, but what we really care about is whether or not they created a little moment of magic for us.
When we go to the symphony or the opera, we may discuss the mechanics of the fingering required of the first violinist in Bach’s B Minor Mass, but what we really care about is the enchantment we experienced, the transport we felt as we were taken out of ourselves by the music.
When we attend a business presentation, we may momentarily think about the presenter’s ease and comfort at the front of the room, but what we care about, and remember, is the value of the experience, what we learned, and how much it shed new light on an issue important to us.
Our audiences want to get our big idea, and have that idea illuminate their battlefield like a flare, so they can do business better, or make a better decision. They don’t give a hoot about our presentation skills unless they’re having trouble grasping what we’re trying to say. They’re looking for an “Aha!” moment, not for body language or eye contact.
It reminds me of my transition from theater into business. In theater we spoke about the truthfulness of the moment, about what the actor was trying to say with the words, about his expression of intention, his ability to be in the moment – responsive and alive to the immediate circumstances.
In business, I was suddenly engulfed in conversations about the mechanics of speaking – how to stand, gesture, move, and use your eyes. It was all about appearing, and not about being – being enthusiastic, being full of conviction, being able to bring new ideas to life.
I recognize that actors have scripts written for them – scripts they memorize, and that they are pretending to be passionate, or ambitious, or sly. So do we. But the audience doesn’t want to see acting skills. Acting skills are a given. The audience wants to be deceived to such an extent that they believe that what is happening on the stage is really happening. That it’s real. We want to suspend our disbelief, and live vicariously through the dramatic (or comedic) struggle to which we are witnesses. Otherwise, without the illusion, we don’t get the emotional kick. When we see the mechanics, the illusion is destroyed.
The art of presenting lies in hiding the art. As long as you can suspend the audience’s disbelief – in other words, get them to believe in you and your message, you’re doing your job.
Your skills are in service to the creation of value for the audience, and like all good servants, they’re at their best when they don’t draw attention to themselves.