If you really want to stand out you’ll have to mind your language

As part of my work as a public speaking coach and trainer, I facilitate a workshop called Speak Like a TED Talker, which teaches participants how to express themselves authentically, from the heart, and with diamond-sharp clarity.

In the morning we play a game called ‘TED or Dead’. I read out the titles of various speeches and ask the group to decide whether or not they are TED talks or dead talks (i.e. dull and boring).

Everyone gets that a presentation called Forging Win-Win Relationships to Improve Patient Outcomes is not a TED talk. It’s boring, bland, clichéd and totally lacks humanity.

But there are other titles that often divide opinion, such as Your Time to Shine or How to Start a Movement. The former is not a TED talk (it’s a cliché in the world of personal development and coaching) but the latter is – because it creates fascination by putting a practical spin on a high concept.

While doing this exercise I’m always struck by the way in which language can not only provoke a reaction, but also feed people’s assumptions and preconceptions.

The person who delivers the talk about forging win-win relationships is likely to be dull and conventional. The person who delivers the talk about how to start a movement is likely to be more creative, more interesting, more of a maverick.

This is why it’s so important to be discerning about the language you use to describe what you do and why you do it. It could make the difference between being seen as bland and generic and being hailed as unique and fascinating.

Let me illustrate this by sharing some of my story.

From an early age, I understood the power of words and stories. I loved writing essays at primary school, especially when the teacher read them out to the class. I remember a popular one that was inspired by the Beatles’ song Octopus’s Garden, about a octopus family that lived beneath the sea.

When I became a music journalist in the early 80s, I wielded the power of the pen and could make or break an artist’s reputation with it. I also understood how to start a movement – I pretty much did that when I coined the term ‘The New Romantics’.

After building my experience as a writer, I became an editor – shaping other people’s words and stories by making key decisions about what to leave in and what to take out, what was going to hook the readers and what wasn’t.

Fast forward to 2011. I had just qualified as a life coach and wanted to leave journalism behind. I was enthusiastic about my coaching skills and wanted to use them, but soon realised there were thousands of other life coaches out there and I wasn’t going to build a successful business by calling myself a life coach.

My first attempt at being unique and fascinating was to call my coaching practice The Pearl Within – using the metaphor of the way a pearl forms in an oyster to represent how human beings can create something beautiful out of something painful.

It made perfect sense to me but I was trying to be too clever. It didn’t communicate what I did or why I did it.

So I decided to start again, under my own name. But the light bulb moment came thanks to a mentor of mine who saw how I could combine my skills as a writer and editor with my freshly minted coaching skills and come up with something unique and fascinating. One day he announced: “I know what you are – you’re a story archaeologist!” So I said: “Thank you, I’ll have that!”

It described what I do – I help people dig into their life stories to find the treasure buried within. It doesn’t describe why I do it but I have plenty of stories to tell about that.

What it does do very effectively is to create curiosity. Saying: “I’m a life coach” is usually a conversation stopper. But I discovered that saying: “I’m a story archaeologist” is a conversation starter.

There’s nothing wrong with saying: “I’m a painter” or: “I’m a photographer”. But there needs to be more to it than that in order to create curiosity.

If you say, for example: “I’m a painter who puts the heart into art” or: “I’m a photographer who chronicles the micro-details of everyday life” – you’re giving your audience the specific information they need to either connect with you and your work or to start a conversation about it.

What I find is that people often grab hold of the first words that come to mind and don’t take the time to reflect on whether or not that particular language is fit for purpose. Language is all about meaning – so it’s worth spending the time to get clear on the meaning you want to convey.

I’ve recently been working with a green entrepreneur on a conference speech. Initially her language was all about shifting mindset and attitude around climate change. Nothing wrong with that, but again it’s a bit bland and generic. We’ve heard it all before. We switch off.

Then she mentioned an Elon Musk quote about how being an entrepreneur often feels like eating glass. That gave us a metaphor to work with and a new language to play with that was much more engaging and memorable. She finally came up with a title – Why We Must Eat Glass to Save the Planet – that was worthy of a TED conference. Now she’s definitely speaking like a TED talker.

So please, don’t be lazy about the language you use. Take the time to hone and polish it. Reflect on the precise meaning you want to convey. Aspire to diamond-sharp clarity and I promise you will be rewarded with an equally valuable response.

As part of our Trailblazing Creatives project, Nicky Moran and I have been writing a series on the theme of clarity in self-promotion. Here are the links to our previous blogs:

Clarity about what you want to be known for.

Clarity about describing what you do.

Clarity about why you do what you do.

Clarity about your audience.

Clarity about what you want to commit to.