Veni, Vidi, Humidity

This past weekend I joined 599 other women (they told us the total was 600 so, not counting me, there must have been 599) at a conference in North Carolina called She Speaks. I went with fear and trembling in my heart because the purpose of the conference was to learn how to speak and write for public consumption.

Now, I like to speak and write as much as anyone, but I tend to speak in small intimate settings like Starbucks and what I write has mostly ended up in a big box under my bed. This has been true for years. Despite writing dramatically in my journals more times than I can count "I waaannnnt to be a writer" and "I waaannnnt to teach", I have never ventured outside my home to find out how one actually becomes a good writer or teacher. I guess I thought that eventually the people of the world would look around and say to each other, "Where is that woman we have been waiting to hear from? Let's go find her!"

Then, late last year I held my breath, took a giant leap and landed in my first class at Fuller Theological Seminary. The landing wasn't too big a jolt because it was an online class, so I was still communicating and writing from home. My classmates were interesting but faceless people in other places. My professor was a kindly email presence who generously gave me my first graduate school "A". Yay!

That first class was really great, but it didn't help with my need to break on out of this house and get into the real world. So, to overcome my fear of live responses from real people to my feeble attempts at communication, I accepted my friend Barb's invitation (or dare?) and went with her to She Speaks.

Last Thursday we flew into the steamy, big-hair world of the South in Charlotte, NC. If I learned nothing else this past weekend, I did learn why southern women (and men) have big hair. It's the heat and humidity. Anyone who steps outside in that southern climate returns with hair twice the size it was when they got up that morning. They have all had to learn how to work with that. Forget any hope of silky strands of shining hair blowing in the wind---hand me that big can of hairspray!

The conference was an overwhelming experience on every level. First, there were so many women and they all looked so nice, so young and so thin--or maybe those were just the ones that stood out to me. I saw a lot of great outfits, nice jewelry and cool handbags, not to mention the latest in hairstyles and makeup. Eventually, after I had been there for a while, I also saw women who looked like me.

The speakers were AMAZING!--but after the first evening of listening to them I despaired of ever becoming a real public speaker. They were all so polished, funny and able to drive home memorable points. Of course, those great speakers are also successful authors so I began to wonder what ever made me think I could write.

The workshops were fire hoses of information and I could hardly write fast enough to get all the notes. I ordered eight CD's of workshops I missed. The workshop leaders did not waste a minute of our time--everything counted.

I was assigned to a speaker evaluation group where we presented 3 minute and 5 minute talks and critiqued each other...exactly what I dreaded most when I signed up for the conference. I survived the critiques, but as my friend Barb said, it was like bringing my baby to the group and hearing them say it was ugly. I decided to tell myself that these two little talks were not my real babies. My real babies are yet to be born and next year maybe I will go again and show the speaker group how good one or two of them can look.

So, what did I learn that I can use right away? I learned the power of a good story in communicating a message. I learned how to pace and organize a talk so it will be more memorable.

I also learned not to be so danged serious all of the time. This descendant of Puritan/Mennonite/Baptist/FrozenChosenPresbyterian stock needed to be shaken up a little with some southern attitude and southern vittles. Actually, the vittles may not have contributed much, but I hope that a little of that Southern warmth and friendly good humor stays with me from now on, 'cause, honey, I do love me some of that southern charm.