According to this source, approximately 75% of all people experience public speaking anxiety. Of course there are varying levels of glossophobia and it manifests differently for everyone. Whether your fear of public speaking is linked to worrying about how your words are going to received, or it results in a heat rash on your neck and chest, there is one huge action step that will absolutely move you through your fear: Do. Get up in front of people and let go of outcomes.
Do it. The public speaking. Speak in front of the public. Just do it.
Let’s jump into this further. I’m going to walk you through my stage fright journey and share the ways I was able to overcome the anxiety and get to a place where I can communicate with confidence, ease and JOY.
What My Public Speaking Anxiety Looked Like
I went to New York University and studied vocal performance with a specialization in musical theater. This was a music degree with a heavy focus on acting and singing. I remember the day that everyone in my Freshman class had to get up, one at a time, and sing in front of each other for the first time. A knot hardened in my throat before even getting up in front of the group. I started to compare myself to every other person in my class. And over the next four years, slowly, the doubt of my own talent and abilities grew so large that I developed severe stage fright.
I am sharing this with you from a place of perspective. At the time I had no idea what was happening to my body and mind. I knew I was afraid to be in front of an audience but I did not know why. Yes I had thoughts like "Oh wow, she is my new favorite singer." or "I wish I could belt those high notes." but I didn't see this as an early form of Imposter Syndrome. (Uh, it totally Imposter Syndrome before the term became a buzz word/ended up on my radar.) And the more competitive my program became, the more scared I was to get up in front of people and use my voice. My voice teachers were trying to fix my shallow breathing and my register cracking from a technical standpoint and they never once tried to address it from a psychological standpoint. If I had had the wisdom and foreshadowing to know that my mindset needed to change before my vocal technique, I would have asked for a different kind of help.
After graduating college and a summer of open call auditions in NYC, I really did not want to continue putting myself out there and singing in a way that made me feel queasy and insecure. It felt like all of my joy and passion had been taken away and also like I did not have the singing voice that aligned with who I was as a person. I sang in a band for a bit, thinking that being a “rock star” would ease the nerves and allow me to find myself on stage. But it still made me question who I was and whether my voice was worth hearing.
I remember first moving back to Philadelphia as a 26 year-old and seeing a new doctor for my annual physical. Somehow my musical theater background came up and I mentioned my stage fright. My PCP said "Why didn't you take a beta blocker?" I had no clue what this was or that it was an option. She explained that she had many musical theater students from a local college going through the same type for performance anxiety that I did and that the beta blockers helped with the physical manifestations of stage fright.
If I had learned in college that there was a magic pill to get rid of the fear I had when using my voice? I would have run to the nearest doctor and CVS and been well on my way. But the pill does not solve all public speaking problems. And luckily, before seeing that doctor I had moved through some of my fear. By doing it.
Do Part One: Teaching (and singing) in Japan
After a few years in NYC working in an administrative role for theater companies, I moved to Japan to teach English. It had always been a goal of mine to live there and landing a solid teaching gig was the best way to make that happen. At the time I had no desire to teach children and the idea of it frightened me even more than moving to a foreign country with hardly enough of the language under my belt.
I ended up living in a very rural area in the Northern island of Hokkaido. And I taught English at 25 schools in a school district with very little money, very little students, and schools spread out for miles and miles. I spent more time in my day traveling to each school than teaching. Most of the schools on my roster only had room for me to come once or twice throughout the school year. This made me more of a special guest than an educator. And often the resident English teacher wanted me there to teach the kids about America. I would present to them in English and they could learn the language by learning more about who I was.
My school visits began to feel like a year-long artist-in-residency program for my one woman show. I had a series of poster boards with my life and my geography told in pictures. I came up with simple ways of describing my journey and showed up to each classroom with a performative energy. And in the beginning, I was terrified about how the kids would respond to me, my presentations, and worried about whether or not they'd understand it all. A familiar sort of terror. The first few school visits were as fear inducing as singing in front of my classmates in college. The same lump would form in my throat, the same shallow breathing and shaky hands. But I had no choice but to move through it. It was my job. I had to do it. The English teachers were relying on me. And the kids eager to learn. I couldn't let anyone down.
And because I was accountable in a high stakes way, I moved through the fear.
Each presentation got easier. The focus was on getting the students to understand me and understand my English not on my personality or life experience. But with that pressure removed, my personality and life experience came to the forefront and could be used as a magical teaching tool.
I even sang some musical theater songs in the classroom to teach them about my music background. I waited for my speaking comfort levels to rise before jumping into the singing. And the biggest difference when singing for these students was that it wasn't about how I sounded or whether they liked the way I sing and so much more about getting them to understand what I was singing and why I was singing it.
Do Part Two: The never-ending curtain speech
After a year in Japan I returned to my hometown of Philadelphia for a year-long apprenticeship at Arden Theatre Company. Arden apprentices work six 10 hour days a week within every department of the company. One day I was building sets, another day I was writing grants, teaching acting classes, understudying, working in the box office and cleaning the theater. I also had to take on an assistant stage manager position for one of the shows. I was working in the smaller of the two theaters, which meant a longer run of the show/more time as ASM. In addition to all of my backstage duties, I had to give a curtain speech at the top of every performance.
My speech was attached to a clipboard that I could carry out with me each night and the main talking points had to do with turning off cell phones, emergency exits, and a warning about no intermission. Yet somehow the idea of getting out in front of an audience to make this speech brought me right back to my college stage fright.
What if I mess up?
What if the audience hates the show because of me?
What if I need to look down at the paper?
What if my hands shake?
I remember hiding in a corner backstage before the very first preview - whispering the curtain speech over and over while clinging on to the clipboard for dear life. The first time I walked out center stage to deliver the speech I was shaking and sweating and the knot came back to my throat. But I muscled through.
And then I had to do it again. And again. And again.
For 100 or so performances. And with every curtain speech, the public speaking anxiety lessened. I started to feel in my body, grounded. I could breathe and project my voice. Eventually I smiled and made eye contact with the audience. I could ad lib some of the talking points because I knew what information needed to come out and I found ways to deliver in my own style. Did that curtain speech have any impact on the audience's experience seeing the play? I doubt it. But it had a huge impact on my personal and professional growth.
Do Part Three: Live Storytelling Events
I continued to teach theater and performed a bit in smaller productions and as an understudy in bigger ones. When understudying I prayed I'd never ever have to go on stage — nervous that my old stage fright would return and destroy an entire professional production. But I still had a passion for being on stage and knew that the freedom and joy I found when teaching English in Japan, and when delivering that curtain speech, must translate to something beyond teaching and announcement making.
And so I tried comedy. I found that by sharing funny stories from my life I could feel at ease in front of an audience and feel like I was in my own skin. And through comedy I found live storytelling events. The first few storytelling shows that I went to were competition style events. Anyone could put their name in the bag for a chance to get randomly selected by the show's host to tell a 5 minute story and get judged and scored by audience members.
The first time I ever attended, my name was drawn out of the bag first. I had to get up and tell a story in this very specific format with no example to follow. Once my name was called, there was no way of backing out. So I got up on stage and went for it. I still remember the feeling of being on that stage and sharing the story of how I failed my driving test. I felt present, grounded, fully myself, and I could feel this deep connection with the audience. They were listening, laughing, and connecting. It was magic. And I was shaking. I forgot a bunch of what I wanted to say. And my breathing was shallow. But half way through I started to feel comfortable and then all of the other feelings I mentioned above. And most importantly I felt like I wanted to do it again!
Why I'm No Longer Afraid of Public Speaking
From that moment on I shared stories on stage. And by consistently telling stories I moved through almost all of my public speaking fear. And if I ever do get pre-performance jitters, they go away within 10 seconds of being in front of an audience. With my singing, it's still a steeper hill to climb. I don't have the same self-doubt and lack of confidence that I did in college, but singing in front of an audience still feels way too vulnerable and tenuous. But with all of the techniques that I've built as a public speaker and storyteller, and with my increased confidence in who I am as a human being (thanks to storytelling), I know that I can overcome my mental obstacles when it comes to singing. It's something I plan on working through in the near future.
When I get up in front of an audience to speak and tell stories, I feel joy and freedom. I am planted and present and open to the possibility of play. I can show up in this celebratory way because I have prepped and I have practiced in a very specific way. Through preparation, practice, repetition, and trusting to let go, I've honed a storytelling and speaking technique that enables me to dance with being strategic with my communication and letting go in the moment.
You can get to this place, too! The first step is DO.
Do it. The public speaking. Speak in front of the public. Just do it.
Find a public speaking opportunity that will enable you to move through the fear. Or find a a public speaking workshop that will give you a platform and tools to develop your true voice and story.
A note from TMAS Founder, Hillary Rea: I'd love to help you overcome your public speaking fear — no matter how big or small. If the fear is rooted in wanting to take your communication to the next level and expanding your public speaking platform, storytelling will help you to get there. You can learn more about how I work with clients here.