You know what advice I used to give?
Just be yourself on stage.
It was good advice for a while. Until, trying to coach a speaker to open up, his reply was:
But I am being myself. This is what I'm like.
Oh.
Sometimes the best speaking advice for Person A is woeful for Person B.
The trick is, you usually can’t figure out which one applies when you’re the one holding the microphone.
That’s exactly why working on speaking alone is so tough.
You need someone else to see what you can’t.
That was Austin’s issue.
Austin as in Austin Church - who runs Freelance Cake, a site devoted to helping creators building sustainable businesses. He is one of the most likable humans you'll meet - friendly, funny, good listener, Tennessee accent...basically the kind of guy who could win Homecoming King without being on the football team.
Not someone you’d expect to struggle on stage.
But when it came time to deliver a speech in Speech Club last year, Austin turned into someone else entirely.
Serious.
Buttoned-up.
Like he’d put on invisible armor that blanded out everything that made him compelling in real life.
The Power of Outside Eyes And Ears
Austin was rehearsing his talk in front of the group when another Speech Clubber gave him the feedback he needed:
Austin, when I hear you give talk in class, you're likable and funny. That version of you isn't showing up in your speech.
It was the feedback he needed to hear. Austin didn't argue. Just paused for a second, then said "Yeah... that's a good point."
Like many before him, Austin was in "presentation mode." He wasn't scared of speaking, exactly. He'd done plenty of it before. But he'd convinced himself that being on stage required this more serious, more professional version of himself.
The problem? That version was boring.
Fast forward to last week, when Austin posted this on LinkedIn:
A year ago, I dreaded public speaking. Now I’m eager to be on stage.
Then he described the early days:
The butterflies I got before going up on stage were coated in fiberglass. Then, I’d be in front of the people and lights, and it was like my face was lead. I couldn’t smile.
Think about that image for a second. This guy is all smiles and laughs in regular conversation and couldn’t access that part of himself on stage.
He continued: “I can get pretty silly. I’m not above an eye-rolly pun. So why did I feel so stiff, awkward, and icky?”
The answer?
He was trying to be someone else. The person he thought belonged on stage.
When “Be Yourself” Works (And When It Doesn’t)
Now, here's the tricky part:
Sometimes the best advice is to not be yourself.
Doubt you'll hear that at any commencement address. But it's advice that might help you.
Ryan Reynolds, for instance, talked about how his anxiety was severe to the point where when he was promoting Deadpool, he did every interview in character. It was easier to be Deadpool than himself.
And your buddy Mike Pacchione would crater if he ever had to deliver a dead serious speech. His only chance would be to not be himself.
Point being:
Sometimes you need a persona. Sometimes the real you is too nervous, too scattered, or too whatever to be effective in front of an audience.
But Austin’s situation was the opposite. The real Austin was exactly what his audience needed to see. He needed permission to trust that.
The breakthrough wasn’t rewriting his content or learning new techniques. It was stopping the performance of seriousness that was hiding his actual strengths.
As Austin put it: “Mike helped me sort through some of my head trash.”
The GOAT
The reason Austin’s story matters isn’t just because he won a Best Speech award later that year (though he did).
It’s because he couldn’t see the disconnect himself.
Few of us can.
We’re too close to our own performance, our own assumptions about what “professional” looks like, our own “head trash” about who we think we need to be.
Austin needed someone else to point out that the version of himself he was hiding was actually his superpower.
I’m proud of Speech Club for a lot of reasons, and this is one of them. Cohort members who understand you well enough to say, “Umm, that doesn’t really sound like you.”
Or in Austin’s case: “We like the real you better.”
Which Version Of You?
Curious:
When you step in front of an audience, which version of yourself shows up?
Are you like Austin was, filtering out your best qualities because you think they’re not “professional” enough?
Or are you someone who will present better with an entirely different persona?
The tricky part? You probably can’t answer the question on your own. We’re all terrible judges of how we come across when the pressure’s on.
But man, is it ever worth figuring out.
Speak well, my friends!
Mike
P.S. If you want to make the leap from tolerating/hating speaking to actually enjoying it, I’m going to open up the doors soon for another round of Speech Club. Last chance in 2025. Just reply "Speech Club" and you'll know about it before anyone else