thoughts on presenting at conferences

Music: Tahiti 80: Puzzle (2000)

Today I'm doing laundry and packing in preparation for my trip to Seattle tomorrow morning. I also just finished composing, editing, and practicing the paper I will deliver on Sunday at the Rhetoric Society of America conference. This morning just after I finished up my presentation script, I read Jenny's post on "performing" papers at conferences. She said she was working on flexing her "weak performativity muscle fighting the possibility of something new." Those of us in rhetorical studies circles should collectively flex this muscle more often.

I have an admission to make: for the past three years I have not gone to a panel at a conference unless it was my own, or a performance studies panel. In part, I don't go to panels because I'm too busy doing service-like things or trying to meet up with friends. But I also must admit I don't go to panels because too few people try to "perform" their papers; it's more common to see people drone on and on in a monotonous voice. I mean, most panels are like going to church. I don't like going to church.

There are exceptions, of course, but in general rhetorical studies remains a rather conservative discipline. The research in our journals is, for the most part, rigorous and well-researched. Yet until relatively recently, folks seemed to "play it safe." I very much understand the need to play it safe in one's published work (I try not to do that and to take risks, but I don't knock anyone who plays it safe---it's one's livelihood on the line!). But if there's anywhere to try something risky or new, it's the conference panel! Burst out in song in the middle of your paper! Tell a joke! Say something naughty! Make the audience participate in a visualization---do something! I mean, here we are, the teachers of lively writing and public speaking, and we resort to overly-serious droning---and frequently the worst paper deliveries are also the ones that occupy some sort of time warp in which five minutes seems like 30 seconds to the presenter.

Just in case any of y'all reading are working on presentations, here's some things you can do to make me a happy audience member at your panel. Of course, it's all about making me, Josh, happy and to hell with everyone else [grin].

DON'T DO THIS:

• Deliver your paper extemporaneously from an outline. I have seen THREE people do this well. The rest of us should read from a script that has been timed in advance to avoid taking another panelist's time.
• Attempt to deliver a paper by thumbing through the full-version and guessing which paragraphs one should read. Prepare in advance: assemble a "script" that is precisely what you will read and that is timed and practiced in advance.
• Read your paper from a laptop. It's annoying to most of your audience, trust me.
• Go over twelve minutes. In all the conferences I've been to, everyone—including the respondent if there is one—gets 15 minutes, tops. Factor in possible bout of coughing, some sniffles, drinking water, and you've only got about twelve minutes to work with. Don't take more than your fair share.
• Think you're the smartest person in the room. You're probably not, and over-investments in your brilliance only makes you come off like a shit. All of us are smart people; don't assume you have to "dumb-down" your work, either.
• Hemorrhage the brains of your audience. Conceptually dense essays are better read, not read aloud. Compose your delivery script as if you were talking to a competent colleague at dinner. I don't think I'm a dummy, but I must say when certain theory-rich scholars read their dense papers my eyes roll up into the back of my head and my temples start throbbing as my brain liquefies and dribbles out my ear. I especially have a low tolerance for panels full of papers like this. (My ideal theory-heavy presenter: Zizek. He makes tough stuff ok to understand when he gives a talk.)
• Play Socrates. Nothing is more annoying than some patronizing paper deliverer asking the audience a series of questions about the intended audience of wikipedia.
• Keep apologizing. All of us have inferiority complexes, and the rest of us are just assholes. There's no need to keep apologizing for what you didn't get to or how much you failed to do what you had planned. Fake-over the shortcomings. Only apologize if you went overtime (which you should not do).
• Slur or mumble. Articulate your words and read at a brisk but easy-to-follow pace.
• Be overly-serious. Ok, so, if your paper is about torture and human evil, you have license to be serious. Otherwise, lighten up.
• Fart. Usually a problem for the older male professor who has been there and done that. I don't know why these guys think its ok to pass gas in a small presentation room. It's not nice.

PLEASE DO THIS

• Be prepared. It's the Boy Scout motto, and it's always served me well. Have your paper scripted and timed and practiced. Did I say this already? Yes, but now more positively: script, time, practice, cut.
• Have a sense of humor. If you cannot laugh at this crazy world, our silly profession, or your own stupidities, you are the overly serious insufferable person that everyone writes and passes notes about during your presentation.
• Smile. I know, especially if you're presenting for the first time, delivering a paper can be terrifying! A smile says, however, that you're happy to be there. If you're terrified: fake it!
• Wear pants or a longish skirt and underwear. There are stories about individuals who did not. Unflattering stories. Astonishing stories. Stories about who dresses to the right or left or who does not shave. You'd think this was common sense, but . . . there are stories.
• Bring a sport jacket, light coat, or sweater: I don't know why this is, but it seems like every conference I've been to (except for one in Minneapolis) the panel rooms are freezing cold. Nothing's worse than having to deliver your paper with chattering teeth.
• Nod and take notes when your fellow panelists are presenting. Believe it or not, even when you're not presenting sometimes you'll be looked at. If you look absolutely bored to tears it will appear as childish. I know, because I had someone tell me many years ago I looked like I was bored to death and appeared childish.
• Dress nicely. No t-shirts or wrinkled oxfords please. You don't need to wear a tux or a suit, but, clothing that says you actually thought about how you appear is the baseline of professional-ness.
• Thank people. Thank the audience for coming if you get a chance. Thank your chair for coming and moderating; thank your respondent for her labor and comments. I've had some respondents who raked my work over the coals, or offered the dumbest, most inane suggestions ever (like that I should go read my own work, the author of which the respondent forgot). Regardless, someone took the time to read and respond to my work, and that labor deserves recognition.
• Look up. Always look up from your script and scan the audience to see how they are reacting. Doing this periodically will also give you a sense of where you are time-wise. If I'm sitting in your audience holding up a sign that says, "TIME OUT!" you probably should wind-it up ;-)

Now, armed with these Joshie Juice tips on conference presenting, you're ready not to bore the audience! Friends and colleagues: any more suggestions?