When to Memorize a Talk
Many speakers come to me with a written text that they plan and hope to memorize. The first thing I do is take away the script and ask them to give me the talk right then and there without notes. Off the top of their head. I want to break up that love affair with their text as soon as possible. A memorized talk can be a barrier between the speaker and audience; the speaker’s focus remains on themselves and their text, remembering or forgetting certain lines and phrases. We then begin the work of deconstructing the talk back to what inspired it, reconnecting with its purpose and rhythms to get the speaker back to a sense of aliveness in delivery.
Exceptions to the Rule
Once in a great while, there are talks which invite or even demand word-for-word memorization. These talks are crafted, each word chosen, phrase-by-phrase, the words creating a melody. Maybe the speaker is a poet or spoken-word performer. Maybe the speaker is a writer who knows that the truest way to share what they’ve found, seen, felt, is with this exact language, punctuation, and orchestration; the exact word is the only word.
In these rare cases, the speaker spends weeks, hours, days, reciting until the text comes off the page. We offer safety nets like notecards, prompters, and even people sitting with the text in the audience just in case. (We’ll dig into the use of safety nets deeper next week.)
Think of the spoken-word artist, Sarah Kay performing her piece, “If I Should Have a Daughter.” Exquisite, precise language choreographed by movement and breath.
Photographer, journalist, war veteran, and podcaster, Elliott Woods’ stunning TED Talk, Ever After: Finding Fulfillment in the Aftermath of War, demanded the clarity and integrity of memorization. As he speaks, stark and luminous photographs emerge, his staggering words reminding us to look deeply into the eyes of the soldiers, people, friends, sons, and to see them. He does not flinch and neither must we.
The emotional and personal weight of the talk is held by his exact, sculpted, precise words.
So, how do we know whether to memorize a talk or “know” a talk? We ask ourselves:
What is the most direct way for me to connect with the audience?
What skills, techniques, and practices bring me closer to sharing my story and which put up obstacles and barriers between my message and my audience?
Poetry and the precise and crafted language of writers, may call for a word-for-word memorization.
Caveat and Most Rare Exception: Memorize if you are Charles Handy
I had dinner with the most wonderful writer and speaker, Charles Handy, last night. Even my father didn’t want to go on stage after Charles. At a festschrift for my father, many years ago, Charles spoke so eloquently (with no notes), that Dad remarked, “He’s too good! It’s impossible to follow him!” Last night Charles adamantly pushed back on this idea that few of us should endeavor to memorize every word of a talk. Charles believes that all speakers should memorize every word so that we never, ever have to look away from the audience to refer to a note. I remarked that talks that are “known” also allow complete and utter connection with the audience. He thought about that for a minutes and said, “I suppose that could work…” I reminded him that very few people in the world have his facility to memorize and recite a talk word-for-word while maintaining true aliveness with the audience. Charles then proceeded to recite the a few of the twelve poems he is memorizing before he dies with absolute beauty and honest connection, bringing tears to my eyes…So, yes, I am adding, if you have the extraordinary gifts of Charles Handy, yes. Memorize.
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
“The Lake Isle of Innisfree”