The Myth of Body Language

Image © Jenny Rollo

For the longest time, I thought the subject of body language was a bunch of BS. Then I talked to an expert and realized that it’s not body language that’s BS, but most people’s ideas about body language.

That is, the science is valid, but the interpretation of it is a mess, she explained.

If you listened to the conventional wisdom, you’d never cross your arms or put your hands in your pockets again. (Which for me would mean the end of comfort forever.)

The other night I was speaking to a group and asked them what it means when someone crosses their arms. They said, “defensive,” “closed off” and “negative.” So I crossed my arms and proceeded to talk for a moment and asked them if I seemed defensive, closed off and negative.

They said no.

“How can that be?” I asked. “My arms are crossed.” And they told me that I was smiling, upbeat, approaching them in an open, friendly way and with a positive tone of voice.

And that’s the point. It’s not any one isolated gesture that has meaning, it’s the whole picture, the context.

So if someone’s crossing their arms, it may just mean they’re cold. Or they’re comfortable that way.

And if you’re paranoid about ever crossing your arms in a meeting or when you’re giving a presentation, stop worrying about it. It’s the intention that counts. Control for that. Be warm, friendly and positive and nobody’s going to care about how you hold your arms.

Or as communication expert Nick Morgan puts it:

[I]f you’re going to give a speech, decide beforehand that you’re thrilled to have the opportunity to present to this great group of people … think first about what the purpose of the interaction is, what you want to get out of it, and what your attitude toward it is. If you focus your emotions in this way, your gestures will take care of themselves.

This all stems from a larger myth that 93% of all communication is nonverbal. That kind of thinking leads to the dangerous assumption that it doesn’t matter what you say, so long as you gesticulate just right.

And it gives outsized meaning to ordinary, everyday gestures. Which can lead to all kinds of crazy nonsense.

I’m Not Angry

In the hours after the September 11 attacks, I was furious. I wanted revenge — and if the pursuit of that resulted in some measure of justice, so be it. But justice was not the first thing on my mind.

We still don’t know who was responsible for the attacks in Boston, but it strikes a sickly familiar chord. Only this time around I feel more sadness than anger. (And I don’t feel like writing about writing or communications or related topics this morning.)

Maybe it’s because I’m older. Maybe because after more than a decade of this we are all just war-weary. I am, at least. Some still seem caught up in fury — I’m not sure where they get the energy for that particular emotion.

We declared and waged a war on terror, and so much violence has occurred as a result. We’ve achieved justice in some cases and sometimes we’ve committed grievous errors. I’m saddened by it all.

So much blood has been spilled, and yet relatively little on our own shores — and most of that by our own hand and for reasons that have nothing to do with politics.

I (and others, I’m sure) expected a lot more violence here. In the months after September 11, I just assumed we were relegated to a life where shopping mall, hotel and restaurant bombings would be a sad, inevitable part of our daily life. That never happened and I still can’t quite believe it. (Though, of course, random gun violence has become a part of the fabric.)

So for that reason I wasn’t shocked by yesterday’s bombing. It was still terrible to see, especially in mesmerizing and endless television replay. And I’m saddened, of course — for the people, for the city of Boston, for our country.

But I’m not fearful and I’m not angry. Whoever was behind this, whether domestic or foreign, will be revealed and maybe caught. Justice, or the satisfaction that’s supposed to come with it, will probably be elusive as always.

And we will all move on and carry on and we will be all right.

3 Quick Tips for Presenters and Public Speakers

Speaking at Loyola University

I love public speaking. I spoke to a couple of groups of college students this week and it was a lot of fun. (And if it’s not fun, why do it?)

Here are some quick tips that came to mind.

1. Write your own introduction

Sometimes the person who introduces you will put something together on their own, and sometimes they’ll just recite your entire LinkedIn profile verbatim. So just to be safe, prepare a standard intro and give it to the organizers ahead of time. And if you’ve got a funny name like mine, include a pronunciation key. Pro tip: your intro should not be longer than your speech. Limit it to a few sentences, or less than 30 seconds.

2. Interact the right way

To get the audience involved, ask specific questions. “Does anybody have any questions” is not a specific question, and many audiences just shrug in response. I still find myself doing that once in a while, but it should be avoided. Better to phrase things this way: “Some speakers wait until the end to take questions and others take questions throughout their presentation. Which do you prefer? Why?”

Or if you’re about to make several points, let the audience take the first crack at doing the list: “Words are just one way to get your point across. What are some others?”

And under no circumstances, do not ever attempt to rally the crowd with, “How are we doing this morning?? [audience groans] What was that? I can’t hear you! HOW ARE WE DOING THIS MORNING????” [audience groans more loudly].

3. Make eye contact

Some speakers say they get rattled when they make eye contact. They may even attempt the old ”stare at a point on the back wall” trick. It doesn’t work. The only way to know how you’re doing is to be looking people in the eye. If they’re bored, switch it up — ditch your agenda, start a conversation, amp up your energy. But when they’re on your side, when they’re unconsciously nodding along, smiling and even spontaneously verbalizing their agreement? Nothing beats it. Feed off that energy.

By the way, this article, 7 Lessons from the World’s Most Captivating Presenters, has been making the rounds, and it is full of really, really useful tips, which I plan to come back to in another post.

The Secret to Being a Better Editor (Plus 5 Essential Tips)

When you’re providing feedback on other people’s writing, do you ever get a nagging feeling that they’re angry or resentful? It may be because you’re being a jerk.

You can’t help it. You weren’t trained to be an editor. People who hold that title in media companies and publishing houses toil for years to perfect those skills.

Yet every day we’re called upon to review and comment on an employee or colleague’s memo, report, presentation or other document. Much of that feedback is done without a lot of thought — and it shows.

In The 7 Habits of Highly Incompetent Editors, I wrote about the ways editors routinely demoralize writers — which, of course, ultimately makes the work product suffer.

But here I’m going to flip that around and offer some positive things you can do to have a better, more constructive relationship with the people whose work you’re editing. First, though, I’m going to let you in on a little secret:

Being a good editor is about being a good human being.

That’s right, it’s deceptively simple to grasp and really difficult to execute. So here are five tips that will help you become not just a better editor, but a better person.

1. Let it Go — You Delegated for a Reason

I think the biggest source of stress in the editor/writer relationship is when the editor has a rigid vision of what the end product should look like. When the document fails to live up to that vision, there’s a tendency to lash out and blame the writer.

But there’s probably a reason you’re not writing this particular document — most likely you don’t have the time to do it. So step back and recognize that different people are going to approach a writing task in different ways. And the only way to get it 100% your way is to do it yourself. (Which I don’t recommend.)

2. Explain What You Want

If you think the writing is seriously off-track, you need to clearly explain what you want. Comments along the lines of “this is wrong” and “change this” aren’t very helpful.

So make liberal use of the comments function, and go see the writer in person if necessary. If you’re unable to articulate what you want, it’s not a just a writer you need — call a psychic. (Or a really intuitive writer.)

3. Take Responsibility

Want to earn some goodwill with a writer? (And you should want to.) Acknowledge when you’re at fault. This happens all the time with me. I’ve asked for something in a previous draft and when I see it on paper I realize it was a mistake — it just doesn’t work.

So I acknowledge that: “I know I asked for this, but on second look it was probably the wrong call.” Too often the instinct is to blame the writer for doing her best to make the most of our half-baked suggestions.

4. Be Nice

I hate the notion in business that kindness is somehow softness. It shouldn’t take a lot of effort to exercise a little common courtesy and treat the writer with respect. When a writer (or anyone) feels valued — like a partner and not a servant — you’ll get better work out of her.

5. Know When Enough is Enough

There comes a dangerous point in the editor/writer relationship when the writer becomes so demoralized by all the changes that she surrenders accountability. She feels like nothing she’s doing is right, so why bother anymore? “He’ll just change it again anyway. “

Which, of course, creates a vicious circle of bad writing and careless editing that ends in mediocre, error-riddled work.

(By the way, these tips apply for any creative people you’re working with — graphic designers, video editors, web programmers.)

So be fair, be decent, keep the lines of communication open and, most of all, take emotion out of the equation. After all, your goal should be to give that person useful guidance and development so she can learn to be a better writer — which will ultimately make your job easier, and make everyone happier.

Stop Misusing This Everyday Word!

I’m fixing to jump, people!

I wrote about this issue nearly a year ago. And still, it persists.

To review:

Everyday means ordinary or commonly occurring while every day means each and every single day. Sly Stone assures us that in spite of his fame and lifestyle, he is simply “everyday people.” Elvis Costello, unfortunately, gets it wrong when he sings, “Everyday I write the book.” Clearly he means “every day.” Who knows how many record sales this cost him?

What do I have to do? Throw myself off those rocks? Move on to something more substantive? (Right. Like that’s gonna happen …)

And, yes, technically this is not a matter of grammar. But “usage” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

Sharpen Your Storytelling — A Quick Lesson from Ronald Reagan

Whether you think Ronald Reagan was a great communicator or THE great communicator or simply a decent one, the man knew how to tell a story and land a joke.

A great example is the now-legendary moment during a 1984 debate with Walter Mondale. For those who weren’t alive or sentient then, there was a question about Reagan’s fitness for office, particularly after a poor showing in the first debate. At 73, a full 17 years older than Mondale, was Reagan getting too old to be president?

He deftly put the question to rest in the second debate with this perfectly delivered zinger:

“I will not make age an issue of this campaign. I am not going to exploit for political purposes my opponent’s youth and inexperience.”

It brought the house down and even Mondale couldn’t help giving the “old man” his due.

But did you see what he did there? If you were writing that second sentence purely for purposes of simplicity, you’d shift it around to something like this: “I’m not going to exploit my opponent’s youth and inexperience for political purposes.”

That sounds a lot more natural. But it’s not as funny, because the punch line is buried in the middle of the sentence, with the prepositional phrase dangling awkwardly at the end.

I’ve talked before about the suspense sentence. As Robert McKee, author of the screenwriting manual Story, put it:

“In ill-written dialogue, useless words, especially prepositional phrases, float to the ends of sentences. Consequently, meaning sits somewhere in the middle.”

By putting the most important and powerful idea at the end, you keep the audience hanging on your words. And that’s important whether you’re telling a joke or a story or writing marketing copy or composing a memo. If you want your ideas to land, save the best for last.

Do People Text While You Talk? Maybe It’s Not Them, It’s You

Image via me

Business presenters often complain about the sight of audience members texting and tweeting away while they speak. I choose to see it as a challenge instead of an annoyance.

First, let’s be clear: distracted audiences are nothing new. I remember a college professor kicking a student out of class for reading a newspaper as nonchalantly as if he were at the breakfast table.

(Other students were more subtle. I worked on the school paper and we caught hell from readers when we failed to place the crossword in the corner of the page, which made it fit neatly and discretely when the broadsheet is folded in quarters.)

And just because somebody’s watching your presentation with no devices in hand doesn’t mean they’re paying attention to what you’re saying. For all you know, behind that steady gaze they could be planning their dinner menu or their to-do list or their escape route.

So when you’re confronted with a sea of glowing screens, try upping your game: increase the energy and pace, cut material, ask a question, shake things up — whatever it takes to get the audience’s attention back on the subject at hand.

And if that doesn’t work, assume they’re live-tweeting your speech and urging all their colleagues to rush to Conference Room B to hear it themselves.

Or, just possibly, it might mean you’re not as fascinating as you think you are. I know I’ve been on the audience side plenty of times, and my phone has saved me from many a dull and dreary presentation.

Which is why I sit in the back of the room — I mean, you don’t want to be obnoxious about it.