Written by Gray Rinehart
Two metaphors for speech construction . . .
About six months into my first year as a speechwriter, the boss called me in for feedback on a speech. He shook his head and said, "This rambles all over Hell."
I didn't think it rambled. I thought it conveyed the message in an effective, if not actually eloquent, way.
So I did what any speechwriter with a sense of self-preservation would do: I revised it the way he wanted. The end product was a no-frills, step-through-the-points-and-get-off-the-stage speech. It covered the same ground, but in a different way.
When it was done, I thought about our different ideas of what would make that speech effective. From observing him in other situations, I concluded that he was a very linear thinker, and I had underestimated how much that would affect his speechmaking. Then I hit upon two metaphors that illustrated our differences and gave me a better grasp of speechwriting.
* * *
To the boss, a literal and linear thinker, a speech was a simple, elegant string of pearls: each one leading directly to the next, and the next, and so on. Each pearl -- each idea or point -- might be a thing of beauty in itself; and each must be tied to the next one along a clearly defined theme.
To me, a speech was a tapestry. The theme was the warp, binding the whole together, crossed by the weft of main points, examples and illustrations. Viewed thread by thread, it may not look like much, but in the end the pattern would be visible and the picture, hopefully, clear -- and perhaps even artistic.
The process of weaving a tapestry may seem tedious, much less watching one being woven, especially when you expect to be handed a pearl necklace. Does this mean one approach is always right, and the other always wrong? No, unless it fails to meet the boss's -- and the audience's -- needs. The fact that the boss thought the "tapestry" rambled may have been due to poor execution on my part; however, even if my execution had been flawless, it might not have satisfied his expectations. This holds for even the simplest things: for instance, if you want a slice of apple pie but the restaurant just sold the last piece, you'll be a bit disappointed even if you enjoy eating their excellent chocolate cake.
The fact that the boss and I viewed speechmaking so differently drew my attention to a new aspect of audience dynamics. In addition to demographics such as education, experience, and expectations, I realized that portions of the audience would respond better to "pearls" than to "tapestries."
The pearl-by-pearl approach would resonate with some but leave others bored, their minds wandering. The tapestry approach would intrigue some but lose others in the process. No single approach would work for all members of all audiences, so the most important lesson I learned from this episode was to combine the two approaches where I could.
* * *
I now try to weave pearls into tapestries, so main points are more clearly visible. Or, when the situation calls for a pearl necklace, I pay close attention to the setting for each pearl, to better support, illuminate, or color the main points. But whether I am weaving a tapestry or stringing pearls, I use the best materials -- the finest thread, the most polished pearls -- I can find.
I find the pearl and tapestry metaphors useful in understanding what makes a speech effective; you might think of one or a dozen different metaphors that you prefer. Any metaphor may be taken too far; but it is enough if the metaphors help us visualize how to structure our speeches so they do what they need to do without rambling over the nether world.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Gray Rinehart wrote this article while a speechwriter in the Secretary and Chief of Staff of the Air Force's Executive Action Group. He is now retired from the Air Force, living and writing in North Carolina. His website is: www.graymanwrites.com
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