From barely looking at the room to getting applause. It took 48 hours.
Well this surprised me.
In the span of a single weekend, I went from standing at the front of a room barely able to make eye contact with the audience — to nailing a pitch so cleanly that the room burst into applause.
Same person. Same voice. Forty-eight hours apart.
Here's what happened.
Back in April, I attended Elevate & Inspire, Elizabeth Henson’s conference for entrepreneurs. On the drive down to Virginia Beach, I promised myself I was going to wring as much out of this as possible. Which meant saying yes to every uncomfortable opportunity that presented itself.
The first one came fast.
Day one, morning session: volunteers needed to workshop their "what I do" statement. Or, as Elizabeth put it: to come up and get roasted.
I raised my hand, walked to the front, and had to force myself to try to look at the crowd.
It was so uncomfortable I wanted to evaporate. But that's exactly what I signed up for.
That afternoon, I was on a panel about community-based marketing. Better than the morning — I could sort of look at the room — but I rushed my words, made apologies I didn't need to make, hedged when I should have stood firm. Still uncomfortable. Still worth it.
Then day two.
Beth Nydick was having us workshop calls to action to deliver on a podcast. When it was time for volunteers, my hand shot up, again. But this time, I wasn't looking at the floor. I wasn't apologizing. I was looking around the room, landing the words, meaning every one of them.
The room burst into applause.
Less than forty-eight hours. Three reps. Completely different woman at the mic.
A few weeks later, I spoke at Good Energy Only — a special edition of The Portal where I presented about the most powerful way to receive feedback and then moderated a discussion with Deniz Artemel, owner and editor of The Scout Guide DC.
Speaking to that room, I knew I could deliver. I felt like I as exactly where I belonged, doing exactly what I was meant to do.
I didn't get better at public speaking over years of slow, steady practice. I got better in a weekend because I welcomed maximum discomfort — on purpose, repeatedly, without waiting to feel ready.
Waiting to feel ready is a trap. The reps create the readiness.
The women I work with know this intellectually. Most of you are already doing hard things. Two things are getting in the way:
Lack of practice with someone who will give you loving feedback
The story running underneath, saying you need to wait until you're more polished, more prepared, more certain. The one that turns discomfort into a stop sign instead of a green light.
That story is costing you reps. And reps are the only thing that gets you to the applause.
I am hungry for more rooms. More mics. More opportunities to share what I've been learning — about feedback, about power, about what becomes possible when you stop waiting and start showing up.
If you know of a podcast, an event, an organization, a conference, a room full of brilliant women who would benefit from this kind of conversation — I would love an introduction. Hit reply and If you know of a podcast, an event, an organization, a conference, a room full of brilliant women who would benefit from this kind of conversation — I would love an introduction. Hit reply and tell me about it. Make Your Move May might be over, but we’re still putting ourselves out there, right?
