public speaking – Terence Eden’s Blog

Discovering My Talk

@edent — Tue, 20 Jan 2026 12:34:26 +0000

My mother, the actress Carrie Cohen, once had a blazing argument with Anthony Hopkins⁰. He was saying that he preferred appearing in Hollywood blockbusters compared to appearing on the stage because nothing was more boring than playing Hamlet for the 100th time.

My mother's contention was that he was talking rubbish. The joy of repeated performance is finding new and interesting ways to bring the character to life. Even after a hundred performances, you will still be able to discover exciting and subtle nuances.

My mother, of course, was right¹.

I was at EuroBSDCon a few months ago giving a talk I'd given several times before. As I was rehearsing it, I felt the comforting familiarity of an old friend. I knew when to pause, where to place the emphasis, how to build to a crescendo. This was going to be delightfully boring for me.

And then I got on stage.

I know my script. True, I occasionally glance at the speaker notes, but I don't rely on it. This frees me. My mind can wander just a little bit and explore what I'm saying.

My brain makes connections that were previously hidden from me. Exciting new ways to express myself spring forth from my mouth. I'm not consciously aware of the joke that I make until the laughter has subsided. I gradually discover a new turn of phrase. The awkward segue suddenly resolves itself. The talk that I'm giving is not the same as the one I planned; it is better. You can rehearse a thousand times, but there's something about having an audience which helps you discover what it is you want to say.

There is nothing like live performance to help you discover yourself.

Well, she shouted at the TV while he was on a chat show. It remains unknown if he heard her. ↩︎
Tony has yet to apologise. ↩︎

Tell the audience what you want them to do

@edent — Tue, 16 Jul 2019 07:08:05 +0000

I do lots of public speaking as part of my job. I'd like to share one of my tips for giving engaging and impactful talks.

Two caveats:

This is a sort-of work post. In that, I'll be discussing something I did for my employer - but they haven't asked me to write this, nor have they reviewed it.
Just because this works for me, doesn't mean it is right for you. Sometimes you have to find your own path.

Here it is...

Tell the audience what you want them to do.

It's that simple. I quite often say "Stick your hands up if you..." or "Give me a cheer if you've ever..." it's a cheap and effective way of getting the audience to engage with you. They think about what you're saying and get a little dopamine boost from sticking their hand up (I know the answer!) or vocalising (I'm part of the team!)

Recently, I tried something new.

During a talk I stuck up a simple slide and said:

Take a photo of that. Tweet It. Print it on a T-Shirt. Send it to your CEO and your developers.

And, do you know what happened? People did!

A few more points to note:

The slide was designed with the room in mind. Large text, so even people at the back could read it. (Huge thanks to Matt Stibbs for his work designing the slides).
The message was intended to be empowering and specifically aimed at the right audience.
Some people love Tweeting from conferences. It makes them feel connected with a wider audience - and shows their boss that they're not wasting time being out of the office.

A sound-bite in PowerPoint form.

It doesn't always work

I'll let you into another secret. This only works some of the time. I've been in front of audiences who refuse to stick their hands up, or participate with anything going on.

Some people are grumpy. Some just don't want to do anything but stay slumped in a chair and passively listen. Other people strongly dislike audience participation. That's OK. You don't need to force people into mandatory-funtime, and you don't need to be embarrassed by your enthusiasm.

So ask the audience to play along, tell them what you want them to do, and find ways to help them be part of something brilliant.

Stand Up Comedy - Dealing With The Fear

@edent — Mon, 19 Nov 2018 08:08:58 +0000

I could hear the act before me getting uproarious laughs. I was stuck on the toilet panicking my guts out.

Why was this happening? My job involves lots of public speaking - to strangers, colleagues, senior leaders, peers, and random people on the Internet. To small BarCamps and to thousands of people in a conference centre. And yet I was shaking with fear at the thought of 10 minutes in front of a few dozen people in a pub. WHY?!

Let me backtrack. My friends at Science Oxford asked me to do a spot on their Science Cabaret - could I do a 10 minute stand-up set about computer security?

Well sure! I've done loads of talks on this, and they're usually well received and get a fair number of laughs. I must be able to trim that down and add more jokes. Easy.

But, reader, it wasn't. This was the first time I've specifically tried to do a talk that was focussed on the funny. It was hell.

I watched back all my previous talks. Everything I thought was funny got barely a laugh - but lots of my improvised asides got hearty chuckles. So should I wing it? Hell no!

I watched YouTube videos of several successful science comedians to learn what they do. Huge thanks especially to Anna Ploszajski and Steve Cross for being my unknowing mentors. One thing that struck me was just how well rehearsed they were. I don't mean to diminish their natural talent - but it is obvious that they put a phenomenal amount of work into creating a repeatable performance

I've written before about rehearsal in comedy - and it is vital.

So I honed my performance. I practised it in the shower, while driving to work, when on mute on a conference call. Every single word became comfortable in my mouth. That I knew every syllable and each hand gesture perfectly!

And that's where it started going wrong. You know when you repeat a word over and over until it loses all meaning? That - but for 10 minutes of "comedy".

Nothing sounded right. All of the pauses I'd put in for laughs just sounded awful.

And then I saw the line up for the evening.

Helen Arney - queen geek songstress. On TV and radio a lot.
Kyle Evans - an award-winning singing mathematical comedian fresh from his Edinburgh run.
Allison Woollard - a professor from Oxford University.
Joanna Bagniewska - an award winning Zoologist.
Chris Lintott - another prof from the local uni, who happens to present the BBC's Sky At Night show.
Lucy Rogers - oh, just the frickin' judge from Robot Wars!

And me. A bloke with a Comp Sci degree. Who had never done stand-up before.

HELLOOOOOO IMPOSTER SYNDROME!

So, I'm sat on the bog. I can hear the laughter and applause. I know I'm going to have to go out. The only exit from the loo is through the venue. Could I really walk past all those people, grab my coat, and dash off into the night? It was an option...

I stood behind the doors to the venue. I waited for the climax of the first performance. I farted. Repeatedly.

"Please welcome to the stage..."

Feel the fear and do it anyway. It's only 10 minutes. There's at least two decent jokes in the set. The audience have had at least one alcoholic drink. No one would be rude enough to walk out halfway through, right? Right?!

Feel the fear and do it anyway. There is no choice. Try not to shit myself live on stage. Or throw up. Or both. Why do I feel like this? Is it the quality of the other performers? Is it the lack of confidence in my material?

Feel the fear and do it anyway. There's a problem with the projector and laptop. Fuck! Why does technology hate me. Can I do this without slides? No! Shall I tell them to ignore the problems? Everyone is staring at me. My stomach lurches.

Feel the fear and do it anyway. Someone else walks to the microphone. He looks like me, but he's smiling and confident. He grabs the microphone as though he knows what he's doing. He says the first joke and there's a huge laugh!

Feel the fear and do it anyway. I let this guy carry on with his rehearsed performance. I peak out to the side. Those people are laughing, so I get him to pause. Relish it. I watch him effortlessly move to the next section. I take the reins for a second and try an off-the-cuff bit of improvisation. A laugh, but not as much as I'd hoped. I give control back.

Feel the love and do it anyway. I let him lean into the laughter. It pushes the fear away. Not completely, but enough. The performance is going well. I pretend that the call-and-response stuff is spontaneous. It isn't, but it works. I fake my own helpless giggles. The audience buys it.

Then, without warning. It's over. "I've been Terence Eden, thank you very much!" I let the performer walk to the edge of the stage and collapse into a waiting chair. My wife sends me a text of support. The adrenaline isn't letting go of me. My stomach knows it can unclench. I'm desperate for a pint, and simultaneously glad that I'm not in possession of one. Probably best not to go down that route.

The rest of the performers are sublime. I can finally relax and enjoy them.

I don't know where the fear came from.

I usually give technical presentations where I know the audience are eager to be relieved of the drudgery of yet another PowerPoint. But people spending their free time and demanding entertainment? That was enough to throw me off.

I'm glad I've done it. I know I want to do it again. I'm certain that I don't want this as a career. I loved the response. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.