In what feels like short order, two of my best mates are getting married. Not to each other. That would be amazing though. It'd be like some sort of LOTR slash fic because they're both beardy hobbits.

No, they're each marrying wonderful women who are truly well-suited to them and vice versa, genuinely good stuff. One wedding is happening in July of this year, so about 3 months from now, and the other is 'scheduled' for the year 2020.

I've been asked to be Best Man at both, which is a very touching honour. It means I get to plan two Stag Parties, which I'm very excited about (I love planning things like that)!

It also means I have two speeches to write. Speeches which matter; which will be to a room full of people, most of whom I won't know; which must be well received by all, while still being funny, slightly mean to my pal, but heartfelt and congratulatory to the Bridge and Groom. So...no pressure...


To some people, the idea of speaking to a crowd is terrifying. They'll actively avoid it at all cost, and if forced into it will go to pieces. 'Stage fright' doesn't need a stage.

Others seem to handle it with ease, without a second thought. Politicians, training providers, actors and comedians/-ennes, and those who find it thrust upon them in the heat of the moment, such as emergency services personnel.

It seems to me that these people who find it easier are split into two groups, and while there will certainly be some overlap, each group has a different reason for success and/or comfort in their oratory role.


Preparation, and Distraction.


Preparation:

Benjamin Franklin, a Founding Father of the USA and generally clever chap

"By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail," Benjamin Franklin.

If one finds oneself having to give a speech in a couple of weeks to a team, or a board, or a congregation, one will most likely rehearse the speech several times in private, time it, and perhaps amend the written copy with notes such as "pause for emphasis", "take a breath here" etc. One will also probably find a friend/relative or two to take on the role of a dummy audience. By the time the real speech is to be delivered, every conceivable angle has been analysed and tweaks have been tweaked. There remains no logical reason to be worried. Now, our amygdala and the emotional responses it elicits from us tend to laugh at logic and make rude gestures towards it, but nevertheless preparedness is a very strong crutch to lean on when nerves might otherwise be one's undoing.

Distraction:

Douglas Adams, The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy

"You have to have your attention suddenly distracted by something else when you're halfway there, so that you are no longer thinking about falling, or about the ground, or about how much it's going to hurt if you fail to miss it," Douglas Adams, in The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

Distraction has a lot going for it as a method of avoiding nerves. I'm not suggesting that by being distracted while falling we can instead become able to fly, but who am I to argue with the great Mr Adams?
Obviously, if what you're most focused on is something other than the address you must make to the crowd of people before you, your fear of making that address will be lessened. We are simple creatures, and we prioritise our concerns subconsciously. We're so good at harnessing distraction, at utilising 'Mind Over Matter', that we can fool our own proprioception, we can be made to feel better with a placebo, we can even walk on hot coals (no, I haven't tried this myself yet but I probably will at some point). If you are first on scene at a traffic collision there will be so much going through your head that the gathering throng of onlookers won't even rank as a concern. At best they'll register as an annoyance, and you'll have no problem announcing to them that they must keep back a safe distance. In less extreme circumstances, there are those who must deliver a line or a running commentary as they carry out a complicated task, perhaps talking to a camera whilst driving or giving a combined tutorial and demonstration in the use of a piece of equipment or software. The act of giving the speech is lessened in it's associated intimidation by the other things going on around the speaker which demand more of their attention. You might be thinking that the example of speaking to a camera ought to be less scary in and of itself regardless of distracting activity, but do you think George VI was any happier speaking into a microphone in a cosy enclosed room than he would have been standing at a pulpit when he made Britain's declaration of war on Germany?


If one is accustomed to public speaking, through repetition and long practice, much of the trepidation of a first-timer is dulled. One has learnt, through experience, that the things one might dread going wrong generally do not. One has improved pacing, volume, language, and has become more relaxed overall (which tends to be picked up on by the audience, forming a little positive feedback loop).

I began public speaking properly when I was 13 or 14, reading from Scripture to a congregation during Mass (church service). Obviously I engaged in a great deal of preparation for this, memorising what I had to say and rehearsing endlessly. I continued to give such readings until just a few years ago, and never put in any less preparation time, even though I felt increasingly confident. I have headed innumerable presentations and demonstrations, addressed teams and groups, boards and shareholders, and companies of soldiers. I have given speeches in eulogy, in congratulation at awards ceremonies, and at weddings. I have performed the duties of a Master of Ceremonies at several events and for a couple of years ran a very well-attended pub quiz.
I could definitely be said to be accustomed to public speaking.

I still, every now and then, have to stifle a little tremor of nerves or a catch in my voice.

Bloody amygdala.