June
Presenting Data Vs. Telling a Story
Monday, July 9, 2007 10:04 PM (permalink)
I have been giving a lot of presentations lately--some good, some bad. In my business, clarity is Job #1. I often scour the Internet for mentions of my presentation or the data I give not out of vanity (though I have no small amount of that) but out of the fear that the data will be misrepresented, miscopied, or otherwise butchered. I always get one or two of these, and those I chalk up to the writer either reading what they wanted to into the slide, no understanding research in general, or just making a typo. When I find more than one or two specific examples, however, I know that I was the butcher.
For instance, I gave two different presentations over the past couple of weeks that came out very differently-one pretty good (at least for me) and one not really up to my standards. In both, I was presenting data-slide after slide of data. But while I left the first one, a presentation to the Country Radio Broadcasters about the state of Country Radio partisans, with a good feeling, I left the second one, to the Corporate Podcast Summit, feeling like I hadn't done my best.
For both I was well prepared, knew the data cold, spoke confidently and had few nerves. But there was a big difference in how I felt afterward, and it taught me something. In the CRB presentation, I went through about 50 slides in an hour--with only 30 or so complex data graphs. In the podcast presentation, I used 40 slides in 25 minutes, and actually skipped 4 or 5 slides as I raced to leave myself enough time for my conclusions.
I have read lots of advice about how many slides you should have in a presentation, and most of the experts say that you should count on one slide for every :45 to 1:00 of your talk. That might work for a Tom Peters-esque slide that says nothing but "FOCUS" or "WOW!" but not so much for tracking the purchasing habits of two distinct lifegroups over 4-5 years. So I think I am going to make myself a new rule. The Internets love lists, so here is my "list of two":
- 1. Allow at least three minutes per slide for a data-rich chart or graph
- 2. If you can't talk for three compelling minutes about a data-rich chart, cut it.
The last bit will be the most difficult for me--after all, I have all this great data--why not tell it all to the world? But I have learned that even in a presentation filled with exciting, really new-to-the-world data, less is more. I found myself in the podcast presentation really racing through some slides (and, in hindsight, they weren't that important) while spending 4-5 minutes on others. It is the slides that I spent 4-5 minutes on that really told the story, and are the ones that no one got wrong, miscopied or otherwise corrupted when I read the write-ups later.
I think if I have to "fill" a certain amount of time I wildly overestimate the number of charts to use, and this is, I am sure, a crutch. After all, if I run out of things to say in a 30-minute presentation, it is comforting to know that I have 60 slides of data to blow through as a safety net. Unfortunately, this results in a less-than-memorable presentation, though I used to congratulate myself for "not even using these slides--that's how great I was!" Now I see excess material as a real failure--a lack of proper planning and foresight to what the story really is.
Looking back over the podcast presentation, I had 7 or 8 really great charts, and then a bunch of charts that were best left as conversation bits at the cocktail hour. Had I gone with that, I probably would have given a 22-minute talk that told the same story, only better. That is the best 30-minute presentation advice you'll ever get!
Dealing with Air Turbulence
Monday, July 9, 2007 10:04 PM (permalink)
Somedays you get the bear, and somedays the bear gets you. When you fly a lot, you are bound to hit a day like I had today:
I used to be a pretty nervous flyer. Back in those go-go 90's, I would take the edge off with a glass of wine, but decided that was only curing the symptoms, not the problem. So I worked hard to overcome my nervousness, and am now a reasonably comfortable flyer. Still, when you get a day like today, only a small percentage of thrill-seekers really enjoy flying--the rest of us are not too happy. "Flight Attendants Please Be Seated Immediately" is quite possibly the second least desirable thing the pilot can say. Number One, of course, is "Oh, Shit." (I once flew through the edges of a tropical storm while seated next to a Continental pilot deadheading his way to Newark. At one point in the middle of a hellaciously rough ride, things got eerily quiet--as if we had all put on noise canceling headphones. The pilot next to me said, I kid you not, "this isn't gonna be good." That was about the low point of my entire life.)
Anyway, I had a pretty rough ride at 36,000 feet today (followed by a baby-smooth ride at 13,000 feet on a turboprop--go figure) and had to reach deep into my bag of travel tricks to resist the siren call of the Chardonnay. Here's how I cope with severe turbulence (and by severe, I really mean severe--the kind you get once a year or so if you fly frequently):
1. You cannot steer the plane using the armrests. They are not attached to the rudder. Let them go.
2. Instead, I put the shade down, close my eyes, and go as limp as possible. I put my hands on my knees, palms up (so I am not squeezing the blood supply out of them) and pretty much act like a rag doll. The more tense you are, the more exaggerated the bumpiness feels.
3. Put a cup on your tray. Look at it from time to time. You will see that it barely, if at all, moves. If it is half full of water, it is likely you won't even spill a drop. This helps you to realize that it the plane isn't really moving as much as you think it is.
4. Still don't believe me? Try this someday (this fascinates me, by the way). Go to the airport on a windy day and watch the planes land. A landing plane has its flaps fully extended, and is basically a gigantic parachute to catch wind. If you have ever landed in high winds and felt the plane get jerked all over the place, you feel like you are getting kicked down a flight of stairs. But watch a plane land in this kind of weather, and you may see the wings dip occasionally--but you won't see it getting the crap kicked out of it. Again, it feels worse than it really is.
5. Gravity and Physics don't just stop working. They are laws. You will not fall from the sky.
6. Music helps me, but it really has to be relaxing and familiar. Today's selection was Aphex Twin's Selected Ambient Works Vol II. Your mileage may vary. Anything with a beat, or that gets me pumped up for the gym or raises my blood pressure in any way is to be avoided. Noise canceling headphones or in-ear monitors are great, because they block out the rushing of the wind and the sounds of other passengers expressing their own discomfort. Just imagine you are in a cocoon.
7. Smile. Really. Unscrew your face and you will relax more.
8. Keep your eyes closed--not looking out the window really helps avoid overreacting. Your frame of reference is such that when the plane dips or banks a few feet, your view of the outside world changes dramatically. Close your eyes, block out the light, and you will see that you are actually not moving as much as you think.
9. The wings of a Boeing 747 can be bent to almost 90 degrees before they fail. Your wimpy turbulence won't do it.
10. When all else fails, go ahead and have that drink.
