During a recent gig, I had looked out into the audience and seen many smiling or laughing (appropriately) faces. I felt the connection to the audience, and I felt I was in the zone with my telling. Afterwards, many people came up to me and told me how much they enjoyed my story and my telling. Some, even more than once! I thanked them all profusely, and though I tried to stay humble, I have to admit that inside I was kvelling!
One colleague seemed a little less enthusiastic than the rest of the audience, so later on, I specifically asked them for some honest feedback. There was that brief pause of silence that tells you, “Okay, you asked for honest feedback, well, you may not like it, but here it comes.” And then, quite to my surprise, my own words as a coach came screaming back to me from the honest mouth of my colleague, “Tell me what the story is about?”
Ouch! That was my first thought. But without missing a beat, I stated what I believed the story was about. And then, even as I said it, it hit me. “No, no, no, it’s not about that. . .it’s about. . ."
I had done a good job of crafting and telling my story that night, but it still needed some work. It needed some fine tuning. I was alerted to that by my own words from someone else's mouth.
Coaching always helps, but sometimes all you need is just a fresh perspective. It's like having someone proofread your manuscript. You can read it a hundred times, and never see that one little typo. But to the independent proofreader, that one thing stands out like a sore thumb. That outside perspective may even be your own words coming back to you. If so, time to take a dose of your own medicine, dispensed by a good friend and colleague