Originally published at: https://boingboing.net/2019/01/29/how-to-avoid-a-thin-shaky-voi.html
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Of course we wish you to roar. All great orators roar before commencing their speeches. It is the way of things. Mr Keanrick, from your Hamlet, please.
I might need to try this. I’ve given so many talks and presentations but every once in a while I “choke.” Not sure why it happens but my throat constricts, my voice gets thready and I can’t remember to take a breath so I run out of air.
I’ve done a lot of speaking, and the thing that really helps me is knowing what I’m talking about. This may sound like a joke, but you would be amazed.
Being prepared, practiced, knowing what you are doing with your hands, the tech, the way the room is set up. Control as much as you can.
That said, I’m going to try this. Because sometimes there is very little you can control in advance.
This is all in your head! People with thin, reedy, shaky voices should be given all the stature and authority of people not so blessed. You are trying to impose your own normative values on others? Why should people have to change their presentation to meet artificial values that you impose? Why should you feel obligated to change your behavior based on the expectations of others?
The bit about the blowing-and-saying-woo exercise could have been expanded a bit. How do they know it works, and what do they suppose the underlying mechanism is?
The rest of the talk could have been condensed to about a minute and a half. I didn’t know that the vocal cords are properly called “vocal folds”, or that they keep water out of the windpipe, but I didn’t need so much convincing that drowning is bad, or that people can hear it in your voice when you’re nervous, or that that affects their perception of you.
Tighten that up a bit, Dr. Gartner-Schmidt!
This happens to me before singing, especially songs with sad themes. It’s like the way Barbra Streisand started off performing “My Man” in Funny Girl. I’m going to try this technique to see if it makes a difference.
If I could just spit out
that lump in my throat…
I let someone else supply the voice
This. I spent years in school terrified to stand up and speak in front of a crowd (i.e. more than two people). It wasn’t until I started a PhD, where I had to present my own work, that I realised I can actually present pretty reasonably, and enjoy it. I always remind my students that they know more about the work they present than anyone else in the room (and that it’s perfectly okay not to know the answer to every question from the audience).
I never practice too much, because I hate those ‘stiff’ presentations where the presenter sounds like they’re reading the back of a cereal box. But there was the time I stood up and couldn’t think of anything to say. No words. That was a long pause. I always prepare the first line now.
Vocal warmups feel good to do, but the silver bullet for anxiety that interferes with daily activities (like speaking) is therapy.
Never give a speech. Problem solved.
This reminds me a lot of the vocal warmups we do in my community chorus, though we tend to do that to stretch our range.
But, then again, so is the entirety of our perception of the universe, so, that doesn’t really narrow things down. I appreciate your sentiment quite a bit, but until we are able to reach universal (or at least herd-immunity levels) of self-actualization, the sqeaky-voiced still need tools to beat back the hordes of chauvinistic sociopaths.
and the award for username and comment juxtaposition for the thread goes to…
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