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There’s a moment at conferences that always makes me shift in my seat. It’s not the talk. The chairperson steps up, clears their throat, and begins reading a bio the speaker has… generously prepared for them. Then it starts. Titles, awards, committees, fellowships, affiliations, achievements… The audience listens politely, the way you listen to someone else’s dream: supportive, but not entirely sure what’s going on. And something subtle happens in the room. Everyone recognises the subtext: But the irony is that the more you try to prove your credibility upfront, the less the audience feels it. 💡 ONE IDEA WELLHere’s the quiet truth at the heart of all this: If your talk needs your introduction to prove your credibility, something’s off. Your authority should emerge naturally — from clarity, relevance, and the way you hold the room — not from a verbal trophy cabinet. This isn’t just feel-good philosophy. There’s real psychology behind it. 1. The Pratfall Effect (Aronson, 1966) 2. Self-promotion backfires (Rudman, 1998) 3. Warmth before competence (Cuddy, Fiske, Glick, 2008) Put simply: It’s like turning up to a first date with a list of reasons why you’re the one. 🧰 LESS MESS, MORE MESSAGEA good introduction should do one thing: Clear a path for the message. Not list job titles. Just answer three questions: Why this topic? That’s enough for the audience to lean in. And when someone else is introducing you? A sentence or two about the problem you’re solving, not the accolades you’ve collected. Let the talk earn the trust. It always does. 🖋️ TRY THISFor your next talk, write your introduction like this: 1. Begin with the problem or question you’re speaking into. 2. Add one line about why you’re connected to it. 3. Stop. 🧭 ASK YOURSELF THISIf no one mentioned my titles at all, would my message still earn the room? PS If your next talk needs a tune-up — slides, story, or structure — reply and I’ll share how I work with people 1:1. |
One idea a week to help you teach and present with more clarity, confidence, and calm. No fluff. No scripts. Just practical tools that land.
I’m giving the first talk of the day soon.08:35. A general audience. Coffee not quite doing its job yet. It’s meant to be about common ENT presentations in children.Things that are better out than in ears, noses, or throats. But I’m not starting with the anatomy.I’m starting with the approach. Because first thing in the morning, people don’t need a data dump. They need orientation. And that’s not a failing of motivation or preparation. It’s biology. Early in the day, attention is still...
I finally finished Stranger Things. And like a lot of people, I felt… flat. Not because the show was bad. In fact, most of it was brilliant—especially the early seasons. The world-building. The music. The quiet moments with Steve and Dustin. The heart. The hair. The hero. But that final episode? It dragged.It fizzled.It didn’t stick the landing. And it reminded me of something I see in talks all the time. A speaker holds the room for 20 minutes—clear message, great rhythm, engaged audience....
The talk that made your brain work too hard Most presentations don’t fail because the speaker doesn’t know enough. They fail because the speaker is trying to impress you with the sheer breadth of what they know. I used to do this too. Before I started writing a talk, I’d open five tabs on my laptop and try to work out how I could cram all of that information onto the fewest possible slides. It’s easy to tell when someone has done it. They put up a slide full of dense text in a barely readable...