Anna S. E. Lundberg

Coach, Speaker, Writer

Lessons from a marketing conference: 5 tips for effective presentations

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Earlier this week, I went to the Digital Marketing Show in London. I didn’t have any big ahas that I can share unfortunately… (Did you know that content was important?) To be fair, the organisers had explicitly said that the show was for marketing professionals and not digital experts, but I went anyway, what a rebel I am…

Instead, I focused my attention on the style and format of the presentations, rather than the message.

It’s really not the easiest environment for a presenter: 30-minute slots in a big noisy hall, faced with an unfamiliar audience. But there are some things you can do to make it more effective for both you and your listeners. Here are my five tips for effective presentations at a conference like this:
  • Create the right setting – As our friend Maslow will tell you, people are not going to be concentrating on your great conceptual debate if their basic needs are not being met. In this case, there weren’t enough seats and so most of us were more concerned with back pain and manoeuvring into prime position when seats were liberated between presentations, than with listening to the speaker. It also meant that a lot of people couldn’t see the screen. This is really down to the organisers but it’s something you at least need to be sensitive to.
  • Know who you’re talking to – This is such a fundamental requirement of tailoring your presentation to your audience. Normally, as a presenter, I would try to get a detailed list of attendees from the organiser with information on their function, their seniority, their business focus. While such detail isn’t possible at a large conference, you can at least get a basic overview of the type of attendees. You can also ask a few quick questions in the session: Hands up if you consider yourself an SEO expert. Who has heard of Google’s Venice update? How many of you work in B2C?
  • Get the tech working – Such an obvious one, especially in digital (- it’s particularly embarrassing when you’re presenting on online marketing and you can’t get the presentation to work). Find out about the set-up and test everything in advance. Will you be presenting directly from your own computer or do you need to put it onto the main PC? Is there an internet connection? In a noisy hall like this, you probably shouldn’t rely on videos where the sound is important. Better to keep it simple than to plan lots of fancy stuff that doesn’t work.
  • Choose a clear title – At a big conference, where attendees can choose among different presentations that are happening in parallel, you need a catchy headline that will make them choose you. Catchy, but also meaningful: you may come up with a sexy-sounding name but it’s useless if it doesn’t give your potential audience an indication of what you’re going to cover. And then you actually need to cover it! The title must reflect the content of your presentation, or the audience will be left disappointed and confused. And you don’t want that, now, do you…?
  • Focus on a key message – Half an hour is not a lot of time but the solution is not to speak quickly and click through text-heavy PowerPoint slides in order to cram as much into the slot as you possibly can. It’s both exhausting and counter-productive, as your audience will never retain it all. Decide on three key points, or even better one, that you want people to walk away with. What should they do when they get back to their desks? What should they change in their marketing plans? Why should they remember what you said over all the other things they’re being told today?

Now I don’t think these presenters were chosen for their public speaking skills, rather for their technical expertise. And we’re not talking about an inspirational keynote speech in front of thousands of people here. But it’s still in the presenters’ interest, and in that of the companies they represent, to package that expertise in a way that it will be understood and remembered. Something to think about for next time…

Friday 13th: The day I auditioned to be a Disney Princess

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Yes. You read that right. I auditioned to be a Disney Princess today.

I made an actor’s CV (thanks Scott!) and printed out a headshot (thanks Christina!) and off I went to Pineapple Studios, 7 Langley Street, London.

I prepared very thoroughly by watching The Princess and the Frog, The Little Mermaid, Cinderella, and half of Mary Poppins. I also practiced my royal wave.

First, I should explain that it wasn’t actually an audition to be a Disney Princess. At least, that was only part of it. The specific audition was to be a character performer at Euro Disney, Paris. This means that you may be a princess (and that’s certainly how they advertised it) but you may also, or only, be a character in a furry suit.

Part one: turn up, get a number, and fill in the form with your basic details.

Part two: listen to a PowerPoint presentation on what it means to be a character performer with Disney. I can’t tell you any of the trade secrets, or it will forever spoil the Disney magic for you and for children around the globe. And they might sue me.

Part three: have your height measured (they don’t adjust the costumes so you have to be within a certain range), and hand in your form.

Part four: create and perform a six-character animation series to some happy Disney music.

Part five: perform a choreographed dance. But my fairy tale was already over by then when I turned into a pumpkin as I was sent home after the animation exercise. If you pass the dance audition, you may be lucky enough to go into the wig fitting and make-up trial to see if you can be one of the specific face characters. Your chances are better, clearly, if you’re male (as ever, the pretty girls auditioning far outnumbered the pretty boys* auditioning) and if you are of a specific ethnicity that works well for, say, Mulan, Tiana, or Jasmine, the odds may ever be in your favour.

*Incidentally, on my way to the audition, I had the sudden thought that this would be the perfect place to meet a Disney Prince! Not true. (1) Few boys, (2) Even fewer attractive, and (3) Even fewer heterosexual. Sad face.

 

I am of course indignant and flabbergasted that the casting team didn’t think I was Disney Princess material. (I’m practically perfect in every way.) I’m also very disappointed that I didn’t get to give them my beautiful actor’s CV with my headshot and all my fabulous experience, or show them that I also speak French. Zut alors!

My am dram experience in Geneva has certainly prepared me for the audition process, although it’s amazing how nervous you can still get, even when you’re doing something for fun. Unfortunately I didn’t practice any improv though I had intended to, and when it was my group’s turn to perform I lost count so my cowgirl merged into my pirate and my dwarf got confused. But, if I’m perfectly honest, I would with almost complete certainty have been sent home after the dance audition if not before. This way, I got to leave just in time for lunch.

Confused dwarf aside, another reason they may have sent me home was my honesty in answering YES to the question on the form: “Are you claustrophobic?” This is apparently a key barrier since, as the casting director told us repeatedly throughout the morning, everyone has to don the furry suit at some point. This means a lot of time spent sweating away in a big heavy costume while not being allowed to eat or drink, to sit down, or to talk. Maybe not so appealing.

I am very sad, however, not to have had a chance to wear the beautiful princess gowns. In The Big Bang Theory, the girls go off to Disneyland and get full hair and make-up and beautiful high-quality costumes to take home – I’ve never seen this being offered, surely that’s not a real thing? Because if it is, I’m booking my ticket to Paris (or Florida or California).

Oh and thank you in advance for your shared indignation and flabbergastedness that Disney did not want me. Sniff.

The end of the beginning: Onwards and upwards

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Notice anything different?

After six months of blogging, I decided to get a bit more serious and today I’ve made the move from wordpress.com to a self-hosted blog at wordpress.org. For now, I’ve more or less replicated the existing look and feel, but please bear with me over the coming days and weeks as I play around with the new options and eventually change the design a bit more drastically (dun-dun-duuuuun!).

Your subscriptions to the blog posts should remain the same, so fear not: you’ll still be hearing from me when I write something new! (Hopefully you’ll already have been notified today about this fabulous post, in fact.)

I’m counting on you to let me know if anything goes missing or goes wrong in some way. Thanks for your continued support and I look forward to sharing the next steps on my journey with you!

“There are two mistakes one can make along the road to truth… not going all the way, and not starting.”
-Buddha

A lover of lists

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I am constantly writing lists. Shopping lists, to-do lists, must-not-forget lists… In the past I wrote these lists on paper, now I write them in Notes on my iPhone, or in my shopping list app. This is mostly so that I don’t need to rely on my limited brain capacity. A couple of years ago, I did a “time management with Outlook” training, in which we were told to create task lists, calendar entries, and follow-ups for anything and everything, both at work and at home. The idea was to use tools available via Outlook to organise our projects and next steps, thereby liberating our brains from all those obligations that would otherwise be swirling around in our heads. Although I haven’t exactly implemented the system to the letter, I have to admit that for the last couple of years I’ve been able to let go of work when I leave the office and had less sleepless nights worrying about everything I have to do the next day.

The other benefit of this Outlook system is that you can easily review all your completed tasks at the end of the week to reassure yourself that you’ve actually done something. Sending emails, having meetings, working on endless PowerPoint presentations and 1-pagers… it’s easy for the working week to go by without any concrete evidence of your efforts. Writing lists and ticking off the items one by one gives me a sense of accomplishment. Although, naturally, I never manage to finish everything on the list, as I’m constantly adding to it.

I have also perfected my packing list for travelling and I now have a very comprehensive list covering everything from the basics that I need on every trip through to more niche items for specific types of holidays. When visiting my family in Sweden or England, I won’t need things like shampoo that I have left behind or can easily borrow. On the other hand, skiing weekends and beach holidays each require very different equipment. My ski boots would make an interesting fashion statement in Bali, while my sarong would do little to keep me warm in Chamonix. Now that may seem obvious, but it’s the details that are easy to forget: my wallet with euros, flip flops for communal showers, a torch for finding the door during the night without waking everyone up, SPF 50 sun cream to protect my nose from going all Rudolph… I can just check my list before leaving and I’ll be sure to have all the those little extras to make my trip more comfortable. (Let me know if you want a copy of The List, although the key is to adapt it 100% to your personal requirements. There is no need for men to bring make-up and bras… unless you’re into that sort of thing. No judging.)

Of course I have a special list for my South America trip. It’s a balance between not wanting to forget anything that I might really miss, and trying to heed all the advice of experienced backpackers who say that your biggest regret will be taking too much. The goal, apparently, is to travel with a lightweight backpack of just 45 litres. Sounds great in theory, but I can’t quite see how I will ever manage this…

I also love lists like “the 100 books to read before you die”. There are so many books in the world – It helps to be guided towards a few that you know are going to be worth reading! In a similar vein, one of our former senior directors (Jim Lafferty, a great, if polarising, motivational speaker) once gave a memorable training on work-life balance and encouraged us to write a list of 100 things to do before we die. The idea was to do at least two of these every year. It could be simple things like “wear red lipstick”, which you can complete in one day, or things that require more long-term effort, such as getting your book published. (I’ve done the former, still working on the latter.) It’s actually surprisingly difficult to come up with 100, and most people get stuck around the 50 mark. Speaking of which, I need to look for mine – it’s from the days in which I was still writing on paper, so it’s bound to be hidden away in some drawer at home.

One of my friends once told me that she’s “not a box-ticker”. But I don’t think that’s what I’m doing. Writing lists in no way takes away from the experiences I have along the way, or prevents me from being spontaneous. If anything, it helps me have more experiences, and then leaves me the freedom to enjoy each experience to the fullest. Long live lists!

A lesson in mindfulness

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This afternoon, I was sitting on the DLR train from Bank to London City Airport. I had been lucky to grab a forward-facing seat right at the front of the train, and I was working through my 40 leçons pour parler espagnol. I was on Chapter 17, the subjunctive: hace falta que tenga, tengas, tenga, tengamos, tengáis, tengan… Suddenly it hit me that I hadn’t touched in with my Oyster card. Not being a Londoner, I don’t know exactly how it works, but I have heard that failing to touch in and out correctly could lead to having to pay the maximum fare. So I jumped out at the next stop to touch in properly and await the next train to the airport. As I did so, the machine said ‘Exit’ instead of ‘Entry’. Replaying the last ten minutes in my brain, I realised that, of course, I had touched in as my friends and I entered the underground station together. So now I had to touch in again, and await the next train to the airport in the cold.

Now the cost of this silly mistake was maybe one extra pound and ten minutes of delay. I had plenty of time until my flight. Not exactly a big drama. But the point is that the whole exercise was unnecessary. It’s a classic case of not being mindful, not being present in the moment. Other common examples: not remembering if I locked the door when I left home in the morning; a couple of times actually leaving the keys in the door when I arrived home after work (thankfully either I remembered, or a kind neighbour noticed the obvious error and knocked on my door to let me know); leaving my sheet music on the bus (I noticed this after the doors had shut, running alongside it as it pulled away, banging on the doors until the bus driver stopped and let me retrieve my folder); recently leaving my wallet on the train (again, thankfully, my brain somehow realised that something was missing just as I was getting off, so I returned to where I’d been sitting to find my wallet lying there on the next seat)…

It’s hardly surprising given all the things fighting for attention in my brain. Taking the most recent example of the Oyster card fiasco, I have just spent the weekend with uni friends who I won’t see again for a while, I’m thinking about everything I need to sort out before going travelling in just over a month, I’m learning my own part and the part that I’m understudying in Chicago, I’m doing a writing course where ideally I’d be completing an assignment a week… not to mention a million other things whizzing around the neural networks of my brain. Whether or not I touched in with my Oyster card is the least of my worries. We often hear that we only use a small percentage of our brain; apparently that’s a myth, and, in any case, I’m pretty sure that mine has no extra capacity whatsoever.

So what can I do to avoid this kind of silly mistake in the future? Meditate? Concentrate to make sure I remember every detail of my actions from getting out of bed in the morning to returning to bed in the evening, just in case I need to recall one of those details later on? I don’t think that’s realistic. Maybe it’s enough to take deep breaths now and then, give myself time to subconsciously process these little details, and then, when these moments of absent-mindedness do inevitably occur, just let them go as the trivial moments that they are. 

Sound familiar? Anyone have any tips that work for you?