Communicating your research effectively is a major part being an academic: for your professional success, the transmission of your ideas, and the health of those ideas themselves. It's standard practice in academia before publishing anything to present the work to an audience for feedback. If you discover that you overlooked a crucial question, collapsed an important distinction, made an error in your argument, and so on, better to be so in front of 20–40 people rather than an indefinite number of readers. More than this, discussions can be immensely useful and rewarding.
What Format?
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Traditionally in philosophy, presentations have followed this pattern: a speaker sits at the end of a long table or stands at a podium and reads a paper he or she has written (either apologizing for why it's not as good as it could be or suggesting that the real action is in a longer and better paper on another continent), then a designator commentator (the only one who's read the paper before) spends a fraction of that time commenting (usually by reading from her or his script). Next, the author is hammered with questions/objections from the few members of the audience who managed to follow more than five consecutive minutes of the presentation and who have been rehearsing their point in their heads for the remainder of the talk. After this, all retire to the local pub (or the hotel mini bar in their rooms) to drown their sorrows. I overstate things a bit, and the tradition is gradually being dislodged by more flexible and informal models, but that's the dreary backdrop. Let's do better.
This raises a perennial question, however, as to the format of one's presentation. Reading a paper, though it may seem strange, can be done well if the paper is written to be read. The flip side of this coin of course is that speaking off-the-cuff is difficult and not for everyone. I distinctly remember giving my first real presentation early in my graduate career at a grad conference: I decided not to read a paper (since I thought it was silly) and felt like I knew the material backwards and forwards (which I did). Yet when I got up there and faced the crowd I found that I could barely remember my name; I got myself turned around and badly confused (I had not practiced) and hit my time-limit without saying everything I wanted to say. Not good. . . . Having a written paper to read from gives you a safety net in case you blank like this. But it need not constrain you. My practice when I read (which I do occasionally) is to make sure I look up and speak casually pretty often, building in this time expectation. This serves several purposes: (1) It makes you more human, helps you come off as the actual author of the paper and not, say, a badly-paid actor reading someone else's work. (2) It allows you to repeat a point or put something in different way (sometimes I'll actually mark in my paper: 'Say this again in different words' or 'summarize the argument'). The major failing of reading a paper is that everything goes by too fast for your audience to grasp it very well. Moreover, speaking and writing are different forms of communication and must be conducted differently. Read slowly and repeat yourself. (3) It gives you a chance to read your audience. Are you boring them? Is your point coming across? Do they follow? The hard thing to do with a paper is to react accordingly. I encourage you to try to present without reading (e.g., from notes or a powerpoint presentation) in the privacy of your own home, or better yet to friends or family. Talking to yourself in this case doesn't make you crazy; talking to your friends/family may be painful, but it's usually enlightening (if you can effectively present difficult philosophical ideas to non-philosophers, you're doing very well). If it works, great; if you are more comfortable reading, stick with that. |
"Writers often claim that they never write something that they would not say. It is hard to know how this could be literally true. Speech is somatic, a bodily function, and it is accompanied by physical inflections—tone of voice, winks, smiles, raised eyebrows, hand gestures—that are not reproducible in writing. Spoken language is repetitive, fragmentary, contradictory, limited in vocabulary, loaded down with space holders (“like,” “um,” “you know”)—all the things writing teachers tell students not to do. And yet people can generally make themselves understood right away. As a medium, writing is a million times weaker than speech. It’s a hieroglyph competing with a symphony." |
Powerpoint — or other slide presentation apps — present to some a happy medium, if used well. But using them well is critical. Sometimes people read everything on their slides verbatim (making for ugly slides and a puzzling redundancy); sometimes they read nothing on their slides, raising the question of their purpose. Somewhere in the middle is probably best. But you need to ask yourself: what is the value added for using slides? What is my audience getting out of them that they wouldn't get otherwise? If the answer is that they are mainly for your own memory and organization, consider speaking from notes instead. If the answer is that you just think that the snappy transitions and whooshing effects (e.g., of Prezi) are cool, then I'd urge you to exercise some restraint and aim for a minimalist aesthetic.
Another alternative that can be used very effectively — again, if handled judiciously — is to design a compact handout (ideally, a single sheet). This can serve both your needs and your audience's, e.g., presenting longer quotations you want listeners to have access to, schematizing important arguments, or presenting ideas/data visually. |
"Power corrupts. Powerpoint corrupts pointlessly."
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General Guidelines & Suggestions
Know your audience. Who are you presenting to? Are they professionals, peers, students, prisoners, school children, &c.? What can I expect of them? Have they read the same material? Are they specialists in the field? Make sure you presume the right knowledge/familiarity. In this context, you ought to presume that the relevant material will have been read, but perhaps not thought about as deeply as you have. By choosing to present on a certain topic, you are undertaking the project of becoming an expert.
Speak slowly and repeat yourself. Ordinarily, when we read an essay at our leisure, we pause to think, go back and reread something, skip ahead to see what's coming, put it down and scratch our heads, &c. Your audience doesn't have these luxuries, so you must make it easy on them. Read your audience. Get a sense of whether they are following you and be ready to adjust your strategy in midstream.
Don't be boring. There's no one way to avoid this and there are many bad ways of trying to avoid it. You want to repeat yourself when it's necessary; repeating everything will make you seem pedantic and you'll lose the audience's attention. Don't summarize except as needed to set up your point. See below about relaxing too much.
Focus. Make sure you choose a topic that can be conveyed in the time allotted, taking into account the sort of pauses, repetitions you're likely to need. Get to the point quickly.
Relax. While presentations are often formal occasions, you don't necessarily want to come off as stiff. Try to relax. It's not an exam (generally); it's a valuable opportunity for you to get some feedback from others. Try to enjoy it.
Don't relax too much. Telling bad jokes or amusing anecdotes can break things up and help hold your audience's interest, but this is can be overdone. Depending on your audience's mood, they may hate you for wasting their time. I've attended some talks (by quite well-known and well-respected philosophers, mind you) which, though entertaining, were so shallow that I left irritated. I want to learn something at a lecture, not be entertained. Comedy is comedy; philosophy is philosophy (an informative tautology?).
Use your time effectively. You should maximize your time by getting to the interesting stuff as quickly as possible, minimizing the jokes, stories, and autobiography, and repeating yourself only as needed. If you use up too much time early on, you'll have to race at the end where the most interesting stuff typically is (many strictly enforce time limits, as we will; and even if they don't, it will irritate your audience and cut into valuable discussion time). No one is upset at attending a talk that is shorter than expected (if it is interesting); attending at talk that is much longer than expected can be vexing.
Don't cram. Though assignment vary, classroom presentations (in my classes, anyway) will rarely exceed ten minutes. This isn't very long at all to present an argument (which is what you should be doing). Make it easy on yourself by resisting the urge to talk about everything. Resist the urge even to say what it is you're not going to talk about, unless it'd seem a glaring omission or you want someone to bring it up in discussion.
Don't cram. You may think that you have the right amount of material to present, but make sure. Give yourself time to practice your presentation so you can feel confident that you can make it through in the time-limit (not to mention so you feel comfortable presenting the material). Audiences can usually tell the difference between a talk that's been practiced ahead of time and one that was cobbled together on the spot or in the plane-ride over (even if it's to present a paper that's already written).
No self-deprecation. Some people feel compelled to lower expectations prior to their talk ("I'm not sure any of this is right", "I only started thinking about this material two weeks ago", "I don't have time to get into the really interesting stuff", "most of my arguments are in the longer version of this paper to which I will refer throughout this presentation"). This drives me crazy. The problem is that your audience will almost certainly believe you when you make these claims — then they'll think to themselves, "Well, what the hell am I doing here, then? Is it too late to sneak out? (Perhaps I'll pretend that my phone just vibrated!)" Skip the prelude unless is really necessary. Just jump in. Let the audience give you the benefit of the doubt (even if you don't think you deserve it).
Nervousness. It's natural that we sometimes get nervous speaking in front of people — strangely, even those we've been in a seminar with for an entire term and especially if we know we're being assessed. Expect this and be ready to resist its common side effects (speaking way too quickly or too quietly). If it doesn't happen, then great. I've heard stories of people just acknowledging their nervousness (≠ self-deprecation), which tends to make the audience more sympathetic and (for some reason) calms them down. Your mileage may vary. But know that it's a completely natural and common reaction, even for experienced public speakers.
Speak slowly and repeat yourself. Ordinarily, when we read an essay at our leisure, we pause to think, go back and reread something, skip ahead to see what's coming, put it down and scratch our heads, &c. Your audience doesn't have these luxuries, so you must make it easy on them. Read your audience. Get a sense of whether they are following you and be ready to adjust your strategy in midstream.
Don't be boring. There's no one way to avoid this and there are many bad ways of trying to avoid it. You want to repeat yourself when it's necessary; repeating everything will make you seem pedantic and you'll lose the audience's attention. Don't summarize except as needed to set up your point. See below about relaxing too much.
Focus. Make sure you choose a topic that can be conveyed in the time allotted, taking into account the sort of pauses, repetitions you're likely to need. Get to the point quickly.
Relax. While presentations are often formal occasions, you don't necessarily want to come off as stiff. Try to relax. It's not an exam (generally); it's a valuable opportunity for you to get some feedback from others. Try to enjoy it.
Don't relax too much. Telling bad jokes or amusing anecdotes can break things up and help hold your audience's interest, but this is can be overdone. Depending on your audience's mood, they may hate you for wasting their time. I've attended some talks (by quite well-known and well-respected philosophers, mind you) which, though entertaining, were so shallow that I left irritated. I want to learn something at a lecture, not be entertained. Comedy is comedy; philosophy is philosophy (an informative tautology?).
Use your time effectively. You should maximize your time by getting to the interesting stuff as quickly as possible, minimizing the jokes, stories, and autobiography, and repeating yourself only as needed. If you use up too much time early on, you'll have to race at the end where the most interesting stuff typically is (many strictly enforce time limits, as we will; and even if they don't, it will irritate your audience and cut into valuable discussion time). No one is upset at attending a talk that is shorter than expected (if it is interesting); attending at talk that is much longer than expected can be vexing.
Don't cram. Though assignment vary, classroom presentations (in my classes, anyway) will rarely exceed ten minutes. This isn't very long at all to present an argument (which is what you should be doing). Make it easy on yourself by resisting the urge to talk about everything. Resist the urge even to say what it is you're not going to talk about, unless it'd seem a glaring omission or you want someone to bring it up in discussion.
Don't cram. You may think that you have the right amount of material to present, but make sure. Give yourself time to practice your presentation so you can feel confident that you can make it through in the time-limit (not to mention so you feel comfortable presenting the material). Audiences can usually tell the difference between a talk that's been practiced ahead of time and one that was cobbled together on the spot or in the plane-ride over (even if it's to present a paper that's already written).
No self-deprecation. Some people feel compelled to lower expectations prior to their talk ("I'm not sure any of this is right", "I only started thinking about this material two weeks ago", "I don't have time to get into the really interesting stuff", "most of my arguments are in the longer version of this paper to which I will refer throughout this presentation"). This drives me crazy. The problem is that your audience will almost certainly believe you when you make these claims — then they'll think to themselves, "Well, what the hell am I doing here, then? Is it too late to sneak out? (Perhaps I'll pretend that my phone just vibrated!)" Skip the prelude unless is really necessary. Just jump in. Let the audience give you the benefit of the doubt (even if you don't think you deserve it).
Nervousness. It's natural that we sometimes get nervous speaking in front of people — strangely, even those we've been in a seminar with for an entire term and especially if we know we're being assessed. Expect this and be ready to resist its common side effects (speaking way too quickly or too quietly). If it doesn't happen, then great. I've heard stories of people just acknowledging their nervousness (≠ self-deprecation), which tends to make the audience more sympathetic and (for some reason) calms them down. Your mileage may vary. But know that it's a completely natural and common reaction, even for experienced public speakers.
