By Bill Dunne
The Importance of Avoiding Windbaggery
Or why the first step in preparing a successful speech is about time
Seriously: Abraham Lincoln did not deliver the Gettysburg address. He did not deliver the big speech, the featured attraction, the address with top billing. Sure, Lincoln spoke at Gettysburg, but it was Edward Everett who was elevated in the formal program as the person who would give the "oration" - the principal remarks.
So who was Edward Everett? He was an ordained minister, a Massachusetts politician, and a past president of Harvard. But more important for the people who planned the events of that day in 1863 (the invitation to Lincoln was sent out almost as an afterthought), Everett was widely regarded as the nation's greatest orator.
Yet Everett's Gettysburg Address does not ring through the ages. It is not inscribed anywhere in marble. It is not memorized by legions of schoolchildren or repeated on the lips of countless people in astonished reverence. That's because, among other reasons, Everett's Gettysburg Address went on for- count'em - two . . . hours. A hundred and twenty minutes, give or take a few. If not Gone with the Wind, then gone with the windy.
That's why the first step in preparing a memorable speech has nothing to do with thinking great thoughts or putting pen to paper. The first step has got to do with getting the allotted time within reasonable bounds.
Rule of thumb
Listen to what some noted experts have had to say about that classic type of speechification, the Sunday sermon. A senior prelate of a major Protestant denomination had a simple instruction for every new class of seminarians. "If you don't strike oil in twenty minutes," he said, "stop boring." In the same vein, Mark Twain said that "no sinner was ever saved after the first 20 minutes of a sermon." Twain knew what he was talking about. He was most popular and highest paid speech maker of his time.
The 20-minute rule of thumb, however, is only a rule of thumb. Different venues and different circumstances must have their due. Audiences differ. Topics differ. Goals differ. That said, the 20-minute limit is reasonable for most executive presentations. It means the speaker doesn't exhaust himself (or herself) talking, and the audience members don't start tuning out long before he's done.
Still, the strategy for an effective presentation must give priority to the question of time, and in that regard we should be aware of certain pitfalls.
Here is what happens in a not untypical scenario:
Weeks or months before the speech date, the CEO is in a routine staff meeting. Several matters are discussed before the subject of the upcoming speech is raised. Finally the speaking engagement comes up and gets kicked around, and at some point the CEO asks, "By the way, how long do they want me to talk?" Somebody looks at some notes and comes up with the answer: an hour. Sixty minutes.
Wrong answer.
What the staffer should have said was: "They want an hour but we'll get them down to a more reasonable time." The reason that that should be the stock answer is because many if not most speaking opportunities for executives actually do come attached to time slots of one hour or, what's not much better, 45 minutes.
That's crazy.
We'll elaborate in a minute, but first let's examine what the planners are thinking when they come up with those time slots. The simple answer is that it helps them surmount an immediate challenge.
"They", typically, are the venue producer and staff - the venue being, say, an industry conference or trade show. Their job is to plan, develop, and stage an attractive, varied, and complex program of meetings and presentations, each tailored to the interests of certain audiences. A large void of time demands to be filled - one day, two days, three days, or more. In the beginning the void is truly a void, a complete blank. So if the venue producer can fill out the program in blocks of 30 minutes each, that's good. Forty-five minutes each, better. Whole hours - the best.
Signing up
Then there's the other side of the equation that gives rise to most speech events. That's you, the would-be speaker, or perhaps your communications staff. Along comes a message informing you of a speaking opportunity, a great chance to tell your organization's story. Quickly you sign up before the slot goes to a competitor.
So the commitment is there. You have made your bed. But whether you really have to sleep in it is another matter. This is where a little negotiating can go a long way. And most times, you do have some leverage.
But one obstacle to improvement can be your very own CEO. He (or she) is tough and indefatigable. You've seen him slog through grueling talk-fests before, and he comes through fine. You know if you express concern over a 60-minute script he might say, perhaps with a touch of bravado, "I can do that." Where are you then? Should you push it?
Yes you should. The last thing a speech should be is a speaker's personal test of stamina. The only important factor is the audience. Rub them the wrong way and the value of the whole effort can be written off. Former President Bill Clinton loved to give long speeches. He gave scores of hour-long talks on the national and world stage during his eight years in office. You may be disappointed, however, if you look him up in the latest edition of Bartlett's Familiar Quotations. You'll find a mere half-dozen entries, all skimpy, and none more profound than, "It depends on what the meaning of is is," and "I didn't inhale."
Here's the problem: a large span of time practically coerces the speaker into talking about everything. And what happens when you try to say too many things? The main point, if there is one, is lost. Or as Voltaire put it: "The best way to be boring is to leave nothing out."
Two sheets
Back on that day at Gettysburg, according to the formal program, Lincoln's role was to follow Everett with a few "dedicatory remarks." And that's what he did. He pulled two sheets of paper from his pocket and read off 272 words. But what words they were. "I should be glad," Everett wrote Lincoln the next day, "if I could flatter myself that I came as near the central idea of the occasion in two hours as you did in two minutes."
So let's say you've persuaded the CEO that he probably doesn't want to go longer than 20 minutes. Now what? Well, now you have a heart-to-heart talk with the venue managers.
Don't be shy. You're in a position of strength. The last thing a venue manager wants to do is rustle up another speaker after he's had one in hand. If he seems to recoil from the notion of "only" 20 minutes, it's usually enough to offer a post-speech Q&A, bringing the presentation to, say, a more ample-sounding 30 minutes. Once you get into that neighborhood, event organizers are usually glad to adjust.
And you -- no longer obligated to stoke the clock -- can now concentrate on writing or delivering a great speech...
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bill Dunne heads a consultancy, Dunne & Partners LLC, that specializes in executive and corporate communications.
Most of his clients are in the informationtechnology, telecommunications, energy exploration, financial services, and medical industries.
Previously he was a speech writer to several top executives at IBM and drafter of hundreds of articles, position papers, and strategic communications.
Prior to IBM, Bill was a writer and editor in print and broadcast news media, including three years as an editor at Business Week.
He holds a bachelor's degree in economics, with postgraduate work in telecommunications.
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