Garr Reynolds's Blog, page 4

Norm Macdonald: A profile of authenticity on stage

Last Friday, viewers of David Letterman's Late Show witnessed one of the finest, heartfelt monologues ever on American late-night TV, by an emotional Norm Macdonald. A few years ago, I wrote a piece called We don't seek your perfection, only your authenticity, featuring a TED talk by Brene Brown. Brown says in her book The Gifts of Imperfection that, "Staying vulnerable is a risk we have to take if we want to experience connection." What Norm Macdonald did in his final appearance on the Late Show was beautiful, honest, and as authentic as it gets on stage. Comedian Rob Schneider called Macdonald's performance "...comic perfection and grace." I don't want to give anything away, but if you have eight minutes, please watch the monologue below.



I've long been a fan of Norm Macdonald. He's always seemed to be the most genuine of standup comedians. He never became a household name, though he is certainly successful by any definition. The comedian from Ottawa may best be known for his five years as an SNL cast member and anchor for Weekend Update. Clearly the standup community respect and admire him. As with standup, so it is in life: the most genuine and the most authentic people are the ones who touch us the most and are the ones we remember.

Thank you, Norm, for showing us how it's done.

B.B. King (1925–2015): Incomparable Bluesman, Masterful Storyteller

 

View image | gettyimages.com

One of the greatest storytellers of our time has died. B.B. King passed away today in Las Vegas. The legendary blues musician was 89. Please allow me to quote from presentationzen.com. This excerpt is from a post I wrote ten years ago called Presentation, blues, and tapping into your creative soul:

B.B. King is a legend. No one does it like he does. He's not flashy and he doesn't try to impress with speed or technique. That's not what it's about. That's not what the blues is about. It's about telling a story and making a connection in a way that can not be duplicated by anyone else. If you are being true to yourself and the audience, if you are authentic, how could it possibly be duplicated?

Many people can play good technique. With study, technique is not too difficult for many people. Computers, for example, can play "perfect technique." But even with perfect technique, computer-generated blues would lack substance and would seem empty. It would seem empty because there is no "feel" to it. To me "feel" is that kind of perfectly imperfect human quality that conveys emotion and the spontaneity of the time. That one moment in time that can not be repeated the same way again. And that's beautiful.

Five hundred years from now—a thousand years from now—they will still be playing B.B. King songs and paying tributes. B.B. King masterfully told stories with his songs, but rather than link to one of his legendary hits here, please take a look at this short video featuring B.B. King sharing a story from his younger days, with another legend Buddy Guy. It's beautiful.



The Thrill is Gone
Here's B.B. King from 1993 storytelling through one of his classics. Put the headphones on and crank up the volume. It's wonderful. As Jimi Hendrix said, "Blues is easy to play, but hard to feel." Is there anyone who played and sang more evocatively than B.B. King? He was the true master of communicating feelings.



Long live the King.

Shokunin Kishitsu & The five elements of true mastery

Last November I dined in Tokyo with a friend who was here in Japan on business from California. My friend is the CEO of a multi-billion dollar tech company with offices worldwide, including in Japan. He's someone I greatly admire and look up to for advice, wisdom, and inspiration. He's a powerful leader, a successful business person, and a nice guy to boot. So when he said that he was absolutely shocked that I had not seen the film Jiro Dreams of Sushi, I felt ashamed of my failing and placed an order for the DVD immediately on Amazon. "I can't believe you have not seen this movie!" he said. "I must have seen it 5-6 times by now and there's always something to learn." Here it is a few months later and in that time I too have seen the movie 5-6 times. My friend was right, there are many valuable lessons in this documentary. I recommend the movie to anyone who is interested in a beautiful visual narrative that is a mix of innovation insights and inspiration.

Shokunin Kishitsu
Shokunin kishitsu (職人気質) translates roughly as the “craftsman spirit." The movie, in spite of its title, is not about sushi, it's really about how to be a master shokunin, how to become truly great as a master craftsman. Yes, if you like sushi—and beautiful cinematography of sushi—then you'll not be disappointed. But even if you have zero interest in sushi, you will be motivated and inspired by this film. The film is not perfect, of course. For example, the narrative could use more objectivity and a more critical eye. There are surely more downsides to Jiro's approach (not to mention the issue of over fishing which is touched only very superficially). Yet, on the whole, it's a wonderful documentary. No matter your job or your dreams, there may be a valuable lesson or two in this gem of a film that will help you in your pursuit of mastery. Checkout the trailer below for the feel of the film.

Five elements of Mastery
There are many lessons from the film, but I will focus here on five main points that the film makes early on. Food critic Masuhiro Yamamoto speaks of what makes Jiro a true master at his art. "He sets the standard for self-discipline," Yamamoto says. "He is always looking ahead. He's never satisfied with his work. He's always trying to find ways to make the sushi better, or to improve his skills. Even now, that's what he thinks about all day, every day."   

What does any of these points below have to do with presentation? Well, public speaking, including presentation given with the aid of multimedia, is an art. It may be a big aspect of your life and career, or it may play a very minor role. But the art of presentation, and the art of communication in general, is something worthy of an obsessive pursuit of excellence. No matter how good you are today, you can get better.

Below are the five attributes, according to Yamamoto, that are found in any great chef. Think about how you—or your team—can apply these to your own work (art).

1. Majime (真面目). A true master is serious about the art. He or she strives for the highest level possible always. The commitment to hard work is strong. The level of dedication is constant. As Jiro's older son says in the film, "We're not trying to be exclusive or elite. The techniques we use are no big secret. It's just about making an effort and repeating the same thing every day." Their approach may be simple but their dedication and execution is what sets them apart.

2. Kojoshin (向上心). Always aspire to improve oneself and one's work. There is an old Zen adage that says once you think you have arrived, you have already begun your descent. One must never think they "have arrived." One of the shokunin at the fish market touches on this theme in the film while searching for the perfect fish. "...Just when you think you know it all, you realize that you're just fooling yourself," he says. One must always try to improve. "I do the same thing over and over, improving bit by bit, says Jiro. "There is always a yearning to achieve more."

3. Seiketsukan (清潔感). Cleanliness, freshness. "If the restaurant doesn't feel clean, the food isn't going to taste good," Yamamoto says. One can not prepare and perform well if the environment is cluttered, messy, or dirty. Some people say that a disorganized work space is liberating. I am not in that camp. For me at least, a dirty, cluttered office decreases my creativity and increases my anxiety. I am not a neat freak by any means, but when my office is cluttered, my mind is cluttered too (and often vice versa). This article touches on this issue outside the kitchen (A Tidy Office Space is the Key to Creative Thinking.)

4. Ganko (頑固). Stubbornness, obstinacy. The fourth attribute is...Impatience, Yamamoto says. "They are better leaders than collaborators. They're stubborn and insist on having it their way." Jiro is an individualist in pursuit of excellence rather than a team player in search of consensus. This does not mean he does not rely on his team or listen to them, but his team is hand picked and trained by him. In the end it is his vision and his responsibility.

5. Jyonetsu (情熱). Passion, enthusiasm. From the very first moments of the film: "Once you decide on your occupation...you must immerse yourself in your work. You have to fall in love with your work. Never complain about your job. You must dedicate your life to mastering your skill. That's the secret of success...and is the key to being regarded honorably." No passion, no art.

Your work, your art
The spirit of the shokunin is the pursuit of perfection. The pursuit is hard and the journey long, never ending in fact. But you love what you do in spite of the hardships. The work is not at all about the money. "Shokunin try to get the highest quality fish and apply their technique to it," Jiro's oldest son says. "We don't care about money. All I want to do is make better sushi." 

Remember that the shokunin lessons here are not only for chefs or artists such as painters, musicians, dancers, etc. In the book Linchpin: Are You Indispensable? famed business guru Seth Godin makes the case that many dedicated professionals are doing art: “Art isn't only a painting. Art is anything that's creative, passionate, and personal. And great art resonates with the viewer, not only with the creator." An artist, says Godin, "is someone who uses bravery, insight, creativity, and boldness to challenge the status quo. And an artists takes it personally." You must throw yourself into it, suggest, Godin, "Art is a personal act of courage, something one human does that creates change in another.”

"I'll continue to climb, trying to reach the top...but no one knows where the top is." — Jiro Ono

The final few lines from the film Jiro Dreams of Sushi sum up the lessons from the master shokunin.

Always...
look ahead and above yourself.
Always try...
to improve on yourself.
Always strive to elevate your craft.
That's what he taught me.

Star Wars VII trailer: Storytelling & the invisible structure

The Star Wars storytelling universe has always provided many lessons for storytellers of all kinds. Over the years I've often referenced characters from the series or story advice from George Lucas (here, and here, and here, for example). Obviously we are all very excited about Star Wars: The Force Awakens, coming to theatres this December. On April 16, the second trailer to Star Wars VII was released and was viewed a staggering 88 million times in the first 24 hours. When the trailer was shown live to the audience at the Star Wars Celebration event that day in California, the crowd went nuts, according to Lucasfilm president Kathleen Kennedy. "When Harrison [Han Solo] and Chewie come on screen and he says 'Chewie, we're home!' and the entire room of almost eight thousand people just leapt to their feet and roared, I mean I can't think of anything I've ever been to—other than a rock concert—that felt quite like that." I also got a big kick out of the trailer and have seen it now dozens of times. One reason the trailer is so good, I think, is because it is laid over a clear organizational structure. So yes, even a 2-minute movie trailer can teach us a thing or two about organizing and presenting information. I'll deconstruct the trailer just a bit below, but first take a look at the trailer if you have not seen it yet (and once more even if you have).

The art of tapping emotions
Shortly after the trailer was released this month, the internet was abuzz with this clip below of Catholic priest and Star Wars über fan Father Roderick who decided to film his reaction to watching the much-anticipated clip for the first time. His reaction is beautiful, heartfelt, and honest. When we see authentic joy like this, we can't help but feel that joy ourselves. Emotions, good or bad, are contagious (see mirror neurons). I have shown this clip to two classes of Japanese college students, and both classes were filled with uproarious laughter of delight as they were moved by the pure childlike joy of Fr. Roderick.

Lessons from a trailer
Trailers often follow the traditional three-act structure of traditional storytelling. Act I provides the setting, and the set-up or premise. Act II reveals a bit of the conflict including the element which the hero must struggle. Act III of a trailer usually is an upbeat, dynamic mix of climax elements, characters, chaos, rich sounds, etc. that hint of the excitement in the film without ever giving the story away. In the six-minute video presentation below, Father Roderick does an excellent job of deconstructing the trailer and hints at some lessons that we can apply to our own presentation or storytelling projects. As Father Roderick notes, the latest Star Wars trailer is not just a collection of random cool images. Instead, he says, "there is a very deliberate structure and narrative to this trailer—that's why it's so good." He breaks the trailer down not into the three parts of exposition/conflict/resolution, but instead he looks at how the structure of the 2-minute visual narrative takes us from the familiar to the new, from the new to the familiar, and then home. Father Roderick's presentation and delivery are excellent and well worth a look. Following the video I highlight some of his points and add some of my own.

ACT I: Setting. (Familiar, but a new time)
Familiar elements such an X-wing fighter and a Star Destroyer. While they are familiar, they have crashed a long time ago, suggesting the passage of some time. The planet looks like the familiar Tatooine, but it's not (there must be many planets with harsh desert climates in the galaxy. Why not?).


This scene pans to pull off a beautiful slow reveal. The novice presenter is similar to the novice writer in that both will tend to reveal too much too quickly. A slow reveal spurs questions, questions create tension, and tension is a key element of the conflict. Though this scene is only a few seconds long, the slow pan brings us in, then surprises us. "Oh wow!" is the usual reaction to this bit.


Darth Vader's mask is again a familiar element but it's burnt, a relic from another era. We even hear the faint sound of Vader's breathing. What could this mean?
 

R2-D2 and what appears to be Luke Skywalker. Luke's bionic hand lacks skin and the scene is unsettling. It feels familiar, but clearly great changes have taken place. These are new times. All of this stimulates our curiosity and makes want to know what this is all about.


The passing of the lightsaber, symbolic of transition from the old to a new mission and a new generation (remember than Luke received what appears to be the same lightsaber from Obi-wan Kenobi). 

ACT II: Conflict (New, but also familiar)
Introducing the new characters, new protagonists, new antagonists, and elements of a new conflict. These are familiar archetypes and the familiar age-old battle of the little guy standing up to the powerful. Father Roderick calls it the old David and Goliath battle. Weak vs. the powerful, the oppressed vs. the oppressor, the rebels vs. the empire.


Familiar X-wing fighters but with slight modifications.


Again, a familiar element of a pilot in an X-wing fighter, but it's a new character.


Rey, Finn, and BB-8. Young, small, fragile vs. powerful explosion and TIE Starfighters in pursuit. Great example of contrast.


An antagonistic force. Kylo Ren, the force that will try to prevent our heroes from reaching their objective.


Another projection of the power that our heroes are up against. An amazing shot with great visual contrast.


Another example of great Contrast. A close up of Rey. A lone, young individual is a stark contrast to the preceding images of the evil power of a menacing army. A wonderful juxtaposition.


Rey's image is contrasted again with the projection of power from the Empire in the form of a battle scene.


A threatening, chrome trooper. All slick, clean, and menacing.


A great contrast from the chrome trooper scene. The grimy insides of the Falcon, and the tiny, innocent looking BB-8.


An important symbolic image. Rey reaching out to Finn. How will the weak beat the powerful? Fr. Roderick speculates that it is the force of friendship that helps them defeat the enemy. While the Empire is based on fear, the resistance is based on something far stronger.


Classic David vs Goliath. The Falcon vs. massive Star Destroyer (with a TIE fighter on its tail).

ACT III: Climax (New, yes, but don't worry, we're coming home.)
Returning home. While the prequels were often sterile and filled with soulless CGI, coming home here can also mean that the movie will a return to the original, more lifelike, imperfect, grimy world, symbolized by the Falcon.


Talk about saving the best for last. Just as you think the trailer is over as the screen fades to black, they hit you with this. "Chewie, we're home." This reminds me of Steve Jobs's "One more thing." Not only is it the climax, it is also a clear theme to the trailer. That is, this is a new Star Wars, but it's also the old Star Wars that the fan base so dearly loves. Take a look at this compilation of fan reactions to this last scene. Clearly the fan reaction is positive, to say the least.


When viewers are at their peak excitement—bam! The familiar Star Wars logo and music.

Restraint
While most trailers today are filled with so much detail from the story that you often feel deflated, feeling that you now have no reason to go see the film, this Star Wars trailer shows great restraint. Although it's based on a clear structure and builds excitement with each clip, it leaves the audience both satisfied *and* desperately yearning to see more. A quintessential teaser. December can't get here fast enough.

 

Architect Takaharu Tezuka creates imaginative learning spaces

TEDxKyoto has emerged as one of the premiere TEDx events in the world. I've attended every one of the Kyoto events (and spoken at two), and I am blown away by the outstanding job they have done. Superbly organized, professional, and inspiring. TEDxKyoto was founded in 2011 by Jay Klaphake, a TEDster and Professor at Kyoto University of Foreign Studies. Through his leadership and the incredible hard work of a dedicated all-volunteer staff numbering in the hundreds, TEDxKyoto has become a very hot ticket indeed. Although TEDxKyoto has held only a few major events so far, already two of its talks have been picked up by TED and featured on the front page of TED.com. The first TEDxKyoto talk picked up by TED was the special presentation by George Takei. And last week architect Takaharu Tezuka's 2014 TEDxKyoto talk was placed on the front page of TED's website. Tezuka's presentation was one of my favorites last year, although all of the presentations were fantastic.

Everyone will probably find the talk below interesting, but it is surely of special interest to educators and parents and anyone interested in the design of spaces for living and learning.

Below are some of the more salient points in Tezuka's talk from my point of view.

Silence is not always golden
In the 21st-century we are still using classroom designs that were essentially formulated in the 19th century. Many classrooms today are just boxes in which children are suppose to sit and play or listen quietly.

"This kindergarten is completely open, most of the year. And there is no boundary between inside and outside....also there is no boundary between classrooms. So there is no acoustic barrier at all. When you put many children in a quiet box, some of them get really nervous. But in this kindergarten, there is no reason they get nervous. Because there is no boundary."

"...our [human] kind grew up in the jungle with noise. They [children] need noise.... You are not supposed to be in silence."

This reminded me of my own college experience (I'm afraid I can not remember much of grade school, let alone kindergarten ). In my first year as an undergraduate, I had a real problem trying to study. Often I would sit in the massive library at the university for hours trying to concentrate, but I always ended up feeling nervous and anxious, unable to focus well. The library was dead quite, except for the very slight hum of the florescent lights. This was not a soothing hum, by the way. The library then had little natural light (they have a much better library now). I was very unhappy studying in the library, but one day I went to the cafe called The Beanery. This was before Starbucks, but the cafe was like a Starbucks except even more comfortable, earthy, and the coffee was better too. The cafe was always abuzz with students and professors. But in the cafe I could be alone among many and I could concentrate in spite of the noisy atmosphere of people chatting and jazz playing over the stereo.


The Beanery, across from the OSU campus. (source)

Freedom to roam & explore
"...[T]hese days we are trying to make everything under control," Tezuka says. But he points out that we humans are very resilient. A little rain or a little cold never hurt any healthy child. Let them experience the elements, he says. It's natural.

"[Y]ou should know that you are waterproof. You never melt in rain. Children are supposed to be outside. So that is how we should treat them."

I share Tezuka's philosophy about encouraging children to see that they are a part of nature, not separate from it. For example, when I take my small children to school, I always do so by bicycle regardless of the weather (unless it's stormy and dangerous to do so). I think some people, including teachers, are surprised that I do not use the car on rainy days. But my children love the bike ride in the rain and do not complain. The kids actually enjoy putting on their rain gear and getting a little wet on the way to school. We stop by the creek on the way to school to see how much the ducks are enjoying the rain. My son says, "daddy, ducks and fish like rain, don't they!" And my daughter chimes in, "I like rain too, and so do the trees and the flowers!"


With the kids on the way to school on a spring day with light showers.

Learning to help each other
Next to the kindergarten is a five-meter tall, seven-floor play structure for children to play on. It is not without its small dangers or difficulties in navigating for small children. But because it is challenging, children learn to help each other up and down and the bigger kids naturally give guidance to the smaller kids. They do this with out being told to do so.

"My point is don't control them, don't protect them too much, and they need to tumble sometimes. They need to get some injury. And that makes them learn how to live in this world. I think architecture is capable of changing this world, and people's lives. And this is one of the attempts to change the lives of children."

"Now these days, kids need a small dosage of danger. And in this kind of occasion, they learn to help each other. This is society. This is the kind of opportunity we are losing these days.

This lesson resonated with me. It made me wonder if the years of being in separate classrooms with four walls did not reinforce feelings of separateness from different groups. We learn to trust our own group (class), but the kids in the class across the hall? Well, those guys are "other" and separate from us. I wonder how much of our fear of other groups is a result of years and years of studying in a competitive environment in what is essentially a box with four walls?

Link
For a longer, more detailed look at this project and others by Tezuka, see his 2013 presentation at Harvard.

 

Presentation lessons from Steve Martin's autobiography

The greatest presentation lessons will never be found in a book on using PowerPoint (or any other presentation tool). Advice and lessons are found in different places. I have always said that some of the greatest advice on presenting on stage comes from the world of stand-up comedy. In the ten years of Presentation Zen, I have often pointed to the lessons from comedians. Stand-up is the most naked and most difficult kind of public speaking gig I can think of. For every famous stand-up comedian you know, there must be ten thousand others who tried but eventually gave it up.

One of the most enjoyable auto biographies I have ever read is Steve Martin's Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life. It's brilliant. I stumbled upon the book shortly after it debuted many years ago. Recently I purchased the e-book and reread the whole book cover to cover on my the iPad and found myself highlighting over one hundred passages in the Kindle app.

Below I share just thirteen of those Steve Martin quotes while elaborating on how they relate to the world of speaking and presenting at large. Anyone who performs or otherwise makes their living presenting in front of audiences big or small will get something from Martin's account of his 20-year career as a stand-up comedian. You'll learn how he made it to the top, but also why he walked away from it. It's an inspiring story and also a cautionary tale. And there are lessons for us all.

 

View image | gettyimages.com

Success takes *a lot* of time
Before Martin became a star, he spent well over a decade struggling, just trying to get better everyday.

"I did stand-up comedy for eighteen years. Ten of those years were spent learning, four years were spent refining, and four were spent in wild success."

I found it remarkable that several months after killing it on his 16th appearance on the Tonight Show—which should be a sign that he had "made it big time"—Martin recalls in the book that he was at one of his lowest points professionally just a few months later, unsure if true success would ever be achieved.

Have a clear structure
Regardless of the length of your speech of presentation, have a solid structure on which to build your material.

"I always gave my performances, even my five-minute talk show appearances, a beginning, a middle, and an end.

One the most basic is the classic Act I, Act II, Act III (beginning, middle, end). You can also think of this in terms of exposition/background, conflict/struggle, and resolution.

Keep it moving forward
It is not hard to be interesting sometimes or engaging occasionally, the trick is to keep the audience engaged from start to finish. Over time you learn which bits work (and in what order) and which bits do not. It's often the arrangement of the content and the pace of delivery that keeps the momentum moving forward.

“Like the burlesque comedian, I am abnormally fond of that precision which creates movement.” Precision was moving the plot forward, was filling every moment with content, was keeping the audience engaged."

The right physical environment is crucial
Each audience is different. What worked for one may not work for another, even if they look similar on paper. But the atmosphere of the physical space is also crucial. Martin touches on the importance of the physical space several times in the book.

"Darkness is essential: If light is thrown on the audience, they don’t laugh; I might as well have told them to sit still and be quiet."

For keynotes or ballroom style presentations before large audiences, creating this sort of show-biz atmosphere with a well-lit stage and a darkened ballroom is good advice. It works for many conferences and events such as TED, Ignite Talks, Pecha Kucha Nights, etc. For most other types of presentations it's best to keep the lights on.

"Comedy’s enemy is distraction, and rarely do comedians get a pristine performing environment. I worried about the sound system, ambient noise, hecklers, drunks, lighting, sudden clangs, latecomers, and loud talkers, not to mention the nagging concern 'Is this funny?'."

Distraction is the enemy for presenters as well. A good tip is to arrive early to minimize any surprises and to make adjustments depending on the configuration of the room.

Dress just a bit better than the audience
In the early ’70s Martin changed his on-stage look from a casual "hippie" fashion to something much more formal. In talking about why he wore a three-piece suit (and therefore a vest), Martin states:

"How can I 'look better than they do' if my shirt was blousing out between my belt and by suit button?"

Having read books such as Showmanship for Magicians, Martin was the consummate professional and knew the old adage in show business was to dress better than the audience. This is a good general rule of thumb for speakers—and it does not hurt for students making presentations either: Always dress a little better than your audience. This does not always mean you have to be formal (or business formal), it means to know the audience and dress in a manner that is just a bit smarter fashion-wise. A tech conference in Silicon Valley is very different than a large bank in London, for example. Last summer I gave a three-hour talk for 300 managers at a famous financial firm in New York City. I wore a formal suit but not a tie (not unusual for the hot Tokyo summers). I was surprised when I got to the venue in NYC that every man and woman was dressed in formal business wear, and every man was wearing a tie. Oops. I turned it into a joke near the start of my talk, but on that day at least I did not look better than they did.

Give them something to think about later
Create messages that stick. Give them something for now and for later.

"I believed it was important to be funny now, while the audience was watching, but it was also important to be funny later, when the audience was home and thinking about it." 

We want to engage our audience in the moment. We want to have an impact immediately and give them something to think about now. The real key to success as a presenter (or a teacher, etc.) is to give them something to think about later as well. This is the difference between mere entertainment—which is engaging in the moment but does not make us think later—and an entertaining talk (or lesson) which is engaging in the moment *and* gives us something to think about and talk about long after the presentation.

There is no substitute for experience
Martin talks of looking at tapes of his earlier work and notes how he appeared overly self-aware and lacked authority in his delivery in the early days. That presence and authority on stage came, but only after years and years of working on his craft.

"My growing professionalism, founded on thousands of shows, created a subliminal sense of authority that made the audience feel they weren’t being had."

The key is to be consistently good
Martin states that it was never enough to be great some nights and mediocre on other nights. Anyone can be amazing sometimes, he suggests, but the key is to be consistently good.

"It was easy to be great. Every entertainer has a night when everything is clicking. These nights are accidental and statistical: Like lucky cards in poker, you can count on them occurring over time. What was hard was to be good, consistently good, night after night, no matter what the abominable circumstances."

The key to greatness is persistence
There are numerous examples of Martin extolling the virtues of persistence over raw talent.

"But there was a problem. At age eighteen, I had absolutely no gifts. I could not sing or dance, and the only acting I did was really just shouting. Thankfully, perseverance is a great substitute for talent."

"Despite a lack of natural ability, I did have the one element necessary to all early creativity: naïveté, that fabulous quality that keeps you from knowing just how unsuited you are for what you are about to do."

"There was a belief that one appearance on The Tonight Show made you a star. But here are the facts. The first time you do the show, nothing. The second time you do the show, nothing. The sixth time you do the show, someone might come up to you and say, 'Hi, I think we met at Harry’s Christmas party.' The tenth time you do the show, you could conceivably be remembered as being seen somewhere on television. The twelfth time you do the show, you might hear, 'Oh, I know you. You’re that guy.'"

Reinvention
One of the hardest things to do for a successful speaker—and professionals in general—is to abandon the past, even though it was successful, and move forward with something new. Martin walked away from stand-up at the height of his success.

"Moving on and not looking back, not living in the past, was a way to trick myself into further creativity."

A wonderful book
This is such a great book. So great I read it twice. In a GQ interview in 2007, Jerry Seinfeld called Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life "one of the best books about comedy and being a comedian ever written." Loads of lessons for anyone who needs to get on stage from time to time. Insightful and well written by the man himself, Steve Martin.

 My favorite line from the book:

       “I think communication is so firsbern.”

I think so too.

Advancing the narrative through first person interviews

March 11, 2015 marks four years since our brothers and sisters up in Tohoku (northeast Japan) experienced the devastating impact of not one, but three disasters. In the past I have pointed to short films made by filmmakers Jeffrey Jousan, Ivan Kovac, and Paul Johannessen, such as in this piece Storytelling that grabs the heart as well as the head. And in this piece Storytelling, POV, & the power of first-person narrative. Today, as a way of commemorating the Tohoku disaster and remembering the great struggle that people face in such places as Ishinomaki, please take a look at a followup film below. In this example too there is no narration. Moving a narrative forward through the thoughtful compilation of first person interviews has long been one of my favorite documentary storytelling styles. This is a very interesting, provocative, and evocative film.

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The key to storytelling is in the giving, not the getting

The key to success with presentation—and storytelling in general—is to focus not on getting approval or a particular response from the audience, but on giving something meaningful to them. That is, it’s not about getting but about giving. Many years ago I was inspired by the approach to performance by the conductor Benjamin Zander. In his teachings, and in his book The Art of Possibilities, Zander encourages us to move the focus from ourselves —“Am I good enough? Will they like me?”—and instead to turn our attention to the audience and ask the question “How can I make a contribution?” Rather than thinking about success or failure, we shift focus to making a contribution for the audience. When you make that shift it’s liberating, you are no longer distracted and weighed down by self-doubt and insecurities. You can focus on something bigger. I came across this short film below by comedian Michael Jr. which reminded me of that spirit and the importance of finding your own way of creating a mind shift from "getting from" to "giving to."

The setup & the punchline
Michael Jr. talks about having a mind shift from wanting to get laughs from people to wanting to give the audience an opportunity to laugh. "Now I’m not looking to take,” Michael says. "I’m looking for an opportunity to give.” This simple shift in focus, says Michael Jr., changed everything. His engagement with his audiences improved, but his real lesson is that this approach is something that can impact your life far beyond the stage. Michael uses the analogy from comedy and storytelling of the setup and the punchline. Michael says that his career is really the setup, and his punchline is something much bigger than performing or professional success. “My punchline,” Michael says in the short film, “is to make laughter common in uncommon places.” To illustrate what he is talking about he tells of one particular encounter with a little boy who attended one of his performances. I won’t give it away here, but please watch the short film clip below.

"If we could just stop asking the question ‘What could I get for myself?’ and start asking the question, 'What could I give from myself?" I think people would learn that you don't have to be a comedian to deliver a punchline.” — Michael Jr.

• Michael Jr. on Twitter
• Book: I like Giving (by Brad Formsma)

Imperfections, mistakes, & the courage to overcome them

The power of a live performance is not in the perfection of the mechanics but rather in the sincerity, authenticity, and quality of the contribution in the moment. This is not to suggest that one does not need great content — or in the case of a musical performance, great talent — but intangibles are important too. With a live performance, just as in a live talk, imperfections will show themselves. But it's our imperfections that make us human, and it's one's humanity that connects with and engages an audience. When there is a genuine connection and honest, engagement with the audience, little imperfections are not noticed, or they at least do not get in the way of the message. A live musical performance can never be as perfect or as polished as the recording, but often the live performance is even better in spite of (or even because of) the minor imperfections.

Idina Menzel singing "Let it Go" live in Times Square on New Year's Eve

Just keep moving forward
You may have heard by now that the Tony Award-winning singer and actress sang "Let it Go" live in New York City's Times Square on New Year's eve. Menzel was a bit pitching on this frigid night, but I thought her live performance was fine, though there is no denying that the last note, the climax to the song, was off. It was obvious to anyone watching live on TV, though from the amateur video I saw posted to YouTube, it's not obvious that the crowd really noticed or cared. Billboard writer Michele Amabile Angermiller reported for Billboard.com that "She [Menzel] may not have hit the big note, but she hit all the emotional ones. Young kids in the audience were all so joyful singing along with her."

In the days before social media, people who witness such a thing may have just shrugged their shoulders and forgot bout it. It's hardly news. Professional singers sometimes miss notes, just as professional football players sometimes drop easy passes. But this is 2015, so of course the twitterverse erupted in condemnation (and support) for the Broadway star who botched the final note of one of the year's most familiar songs. People can be cruel. But that is not the point of this story. The lesson here is in Menzel's response. Rather than get defensive, she just let it go (sorry) and pointed followers via a tweet (see original tweet below) to something she said in a recent interview months before the New Year's Eve show which sums up how she feels about perfectionism, mistakes, and moving forward. Her message is spot on and is applicable to just about anyone, certainly to performers or anyone else who has to present themselves in front of an audience. (Emphasis in the text is mine.)

"There are about 
3 million notes in a two-and-a-half-hour musical; being a perfectionist, it took me a long time 
to realize that if I'm hitting 75 percent of them, 
I'm succeeding. Performing isn't only about
 the acrobatics and the high notes: It's staying in the moment, connecting with the audience 
in an authentic way, and making yourself 
real to them through the music. I am more than the notes I hit, and that's how I try to approach my life. You can't get it all right all the time, but 
you can try your best. If you've done that, all 
that's left is to accept your shortcomings and have 
the courage to try to overcome them."

This is something I said in an interview a few months ago. pic.twitter.com/J63wLZJHnp

— Idina Menzel (@idinamenzel)

 

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Happy holidays, everyone. Below is a little video montage I put together just for family and friends a couple of years ago that captures a lot of the feeling of Christmases I had as a child. These images are from my grandma's 8mm film camera shot in 1958. This was a few years before I was born, but in the film you can see my three brothers, Mark, Matt, and Todd. Both my mom and dad are in there as are three of my grandparents. You never see my dad's mom because it was her camera and she shot all the film.

My mom's birthday is December 24, so you can see some birthday clips in there too when she was about 30-years old. (My mom passed away in 2010; my father died when I was a kid.) The tradition then was to go over to the grandparents house for Christmas presents on Christmas eve (and also have birthday cake). I never knew my grandfathers as both of them died just a couple of years after these shots were taken, so I never experienced "going to grandmother's house for Christmas". My grandmother (the woman behind the camera) committed suicide when I was just a baby so I never knew her, though I am sure she held me and kissed me as grandmothers do to little baby grandsons — but those memories are gone of course. This makes these video images just that bit more bitter sweet (for me at least).

The footage has no special effects — the poor lighting, poor camera work, over exposure, etc. are all just part of it, but they add to the nostalgic feel. (The song in the montage is Driving Home for Christmas by Chris Rea available on iTunes.)

Christmas is my favorite holiday and the most sentimental time of the year. I dig it now, but as you can see from the photo below, my first experience meeting Santa did not go so well.

Merry Christmas! Or as we say here in Japan, メリー クリスマス!