He’s best man but is dreading the wedding. Here’s how he’s beating his fear of public speaking

Justin would do almost anything for his best mate. They’d been friends for 20 years, went to school and worked together. When his mate asked Justin if he could borrow cash for an engagement ring (so his girlfriend wouldn’t spot the withdrawal in their bank account), Justin didn’t hesitate. And when he asked Justin to be his best man at the wedding, he naturally said yes.

But inside, he felt dread. Justin imagined making the obligatory speech: standing at a microphone in front of a room full of people, all hushed and staring at him, his heart racing. It would be like every other time he’d had to say a few words. “I just want to run away.”

As a boy, Justin had confidence in spades. He took on school presentations, roles in plays, and made speeches at birthday parties. But then he started work on a building site – and something changed. Every morning, he gathers with the other workers for a meeting where they’re all expected to speak up. If he is put on the spot, adrenaline pumps, and he feels lightheaded. “I get it out as quickly as I can, just blankly, so it’s finished and over,” says Justin, who asked us not to use his real name ahead of his speech.

Justin is far from alone.

Studies say between 60 and 70 per cent of people experience moderate to high levels of fear about speaking in front of others. Some people swear they’d feel more relaxed parachuting or bungee jumping.

Even people who speak publicly a lot – business figures, advocates, sportspeople and entertainers – can feel dread at the prospect. “If we’re all honest,” says public speaking anxiety researcher Lesley Irvine, “there’s going to be some situations where we all feel a degree of speaking anxiety.”

Why the fear? How can you overcome it? And what’s the cost of not speaking up?

What’s a public speech?

Before humans could write, speech was the foundation for passing on stories and ideas. Ancient Egyptian “wisdom books” describe eloquence as the “principle of fine speech”, while Confucius said an “artful tongue” was a gift “one can hardly get on [without]”. In Greece, powers of persuasion were called rhetoric, an art form that could sway courts and politics. The use of rational speech was “more distinctive of a human being than the use of his limbs”, said Aristotle.

Today, public speaking is still one way to be an active citizen, says Lesley Irvine from the Queensland University of Technology. “You get to talk through and present issues. You get to present your ideas. You get to advocate, whether that be in communities or at work,” she says.

But if the term “public speaking” conjures spotlights, lecterns and momentous speeches – The Gettysburg Address (Lincoln, 1863) or I Have a Dream (Luther King jnr, 1963) – in truth, it is everywhere. It’s the health and safety briefing from your colleague, the argument your neighbour raises at a community meeting, the lectures students listen to, the “short few words”, or the pre-recorded messages played at birthday parties.

‘If you’re an introvert, you might need to lift your energy. I’m being myself but a bigger version.’

“Public speaking is an extended speaking opportunity that can be formal or informal and be live online, recorded, or face-to-face,” says Irvine. When we say extended, it doesn’t have to be a very long time at all.” (Lincoln’s much-lauded two-minute speech in Gettysburg followed a now-forgotten two-hour address by a former Harvard dean.)

A speech follows different rules to a conversation, says Matt Abrahams, a Stanford lecturer and author of Think Faster, Talk Smarter. In a speech, an audience is expected to listen passively, whereas “in a conversation, people are more actively and equally involved.” (Technically, he points out, a speaker can interact with their audience, “I can take polls, I can ask questions”.) A speech isn’t a performance as such either, although it can have elements of drama and cause stage fright. Speakers don’t play characters, though. “If you’re an introvert, you might need to lift your energy,” says speaking coach Sarah Denholm. “That’s certainly what I do, I’m being myself but a bigger version.”

Why do we fear public speaking?

Sean McCaul was 10 when a teacher asked him to sing Silent Night to the school assembly. His older brother had been a lead part in three school plays and his sister had written a play. No pressure, then.

“I remember just being mortified,” says the now 43-year-old. “The next year, I wanted to get involved in the school play. I tried out but didn’t get a part.” Then, when he was 16, his voice cracked while he was reading to the class. He was terrified he’d be bullied if it happened again. “When we took turns going around and reading out of books, I’d look about three or four people ahead and go, ‘I need to go to the bathroom’.”

‘Anything that risked your status, like getting up in front of people and doing something embarrassing or wrong, could have dire consequences.’

Later, he got into the habit of sipping alcohol before speaking at university or work. “I was never drunk; just enough to silence the voice inside that kept saying, ‘You can’t do this, you’re going to embarrass yourself.’” It’s that same inner critic that has cost him being a best man twice and prompted him to turn down a director role at work.

Studies find anxiety about public speaking ranks among our biggest fears. In a 2023 survey, Americans placed it in the middle of a list of 100 things they’re afraid of, just behind sharks and ahead of spiders and snakes (corrupt politicians topped the list). In the UK, a survey found it was the second most common fear after heights.

“When our species was evolving, we would hang out in bands or groups of about 150 people, and your relative status in that group was absolutely critical,” says Abrahams. A higher status meant shelter, food and finding a mate; a lower status could mean death. “Anything you did that risked your status, like getting up in front of people and doing something embarrassing or wrong, could have dire consequences.”

In the modern era, says Sarah Denholm, “It’s fear of harm, it’s fear of threat, to our persona, to our ego, to certainty. It’s that loss of control, it’s vulnerability, it’s all of those things that tap in so strongly to who we are.” Justin, the construction worker, doesn’t think anyone notices how afraid he is, “but inside, I’m freaking out. It’s just being in that quiet setting, with eyeballs beaming on you; you think you’re going to stuff up.”

Public speaking anxiety even has a name – “glossophobia” – from the Greek for “tongue” and “fear”. The trouble for many speakers is that a flight or fight response kicks in – sweating, nausea, dizziness, a dry mouth – just as they need to appear calm and in control. In severe cases, people “choke” or even have a panic attack.

A shy and socially anxious business student at TAFE, Kylie Campbell felt uncomfortable speaking with more than a couple of friends at once. During group presentations, the only words she ever volunteered to say were, “Any questions?” Even then, she says, “I was dying”. Terrified of the prospect of presenting solo, she sought help at public speaking club Rostrum, a non-profit founded in the 1920s in the United Kingdom. The first time she went to a Melbourne meeting, she could speak in front of the group for just 11 seconds. “I didn’t think anyone wanted to hear what I had to say.”

A surprising number of people used to being in the public eye can come unstuck over public speaking. Roman statesman Cicero, famous for his orations, once froze during a speech at the Forum. In fact, “I turn pale at the outset of a speech and quake in every limb and in all my soul,” he wrote. Actor Emma Watson had appeared in 12 films by 2014 when she told Elle magazine she was so nervous giving an address on gender equality at the United Nations headquarters that she wondered, “Am I going to have lunch with these people, or am I going to be eaten?” Harrison Ford told the Los Angeles Times his “greatest fear” was public speaking.

It’s typical for outgoing types to find that public speaking undermines their confident self-image, says psychologist Corrie Ackland at the Sydney Phobia Clinic. “It’s a sense that people are going to expect me to be this person, so it’s really going to surprise and shock them if they notice me to be anxious. That’s going to be an affront to my reputation.” McCaul had these thoughts before he sought help with his public speaking: “The hardest thing was feeling a bit like a fraud. I’m a very confident person in most situations.”

How do you manage the fear in the lead-up?

Footballer Patrick Cripps, captain of Carlton, was “like a two-stroke motor trying to talk” in interviews during the 2015 and 2016 seasons. He remembers being lost for words on live television and radio. “From this, I probably feared it more,” he tells us. “But like any fear or phobia, if you try to push it away and ignore it, it just gets bigger.”

He paused the interviews and rehearsed instead with a media manager, a senior player and a psychologist once a week for six months. Through mock interviews, he built up a repertoire. “My biggest piece of advice is that it will take time and practice,” he says. “Once you get exposure to the situation again and you get through it, then the confidence starts to grow.”

One key way to manage fear is to be prepared. “The paradox of practice is that it equals freedom in the moment,” Sarah Denholm says. “If you know it extremely well, even if it’s rehearsed extensively, so long as you are connected to that audience, you will not go into robotic mode.”

Think about the goal of the speech, suggests Stanford’s Abrahams. He asks himself: What do I want people to know when I’m done? What do I want them to feel? What do I want them to do? He says every speech needs to have a beginning, middle and end that connects ideas. “One of the big problems with public speaking, especially for nervous people, is they end up just listing information. They take us on a journey of their discovery of what they’re thinking about saying as they say it instead of packaging it up nicely.”

A best-man speech, for example, can follow a simple structure: how you met the groom, how they met their partner, some words of wisdom, well wishes and a toast. The goal is to offer insights about the groom and to celebrate the couple (not yourself). Everyday stories are gold: the time the couple thought they were going wine tasting, but the groom accidentally booked bocce lessons instead, and so on. Sprinkle with (tasteful) humour.

‘I think it’s good, everybody in the room thinks it’s good. And all of a sudden, they will throw up their hands and say, Oh, it’s terrible!’

”There is a lot of conflicting advice about public speaking,” Irvine says. “On the one hand, we are told to practise, practise, practise, and that practice makes perfect; but on the other hand, we are told to speak in a more natural, conversational manner, not to read or memorise.” It’s about context, she says. A tight structure with linking statements, so the audience can follow your thread, help in a formal setting. But “speaking up at a staff meeting, talking through an idea in a team meeting, or even pitching an idea to clients or colleagues, we want to be planned but not committed to an exact work order.“

In any case, for many speakers, writing and then memorising full speeches is unsustainable. Irvine, a lecturer, prefers preparing manageable chunks that allow her to rearrange or expand on points depending on how she thinks students are responding.

With your material sorted, you can practise in front of a mirror, record yourself, and even set alarms as distractions. Says Denholm: “The hardest thing is to put on the TV or the radio – there’s got to be talking, not music – and continue to talk while the volume is loud enough.” Speaking after doing push-ups allows you to practise with an increased heart rate. Meanwhile, at Ackland’s Sydney clinic, virtual reality headsets enable people to visualise themselves in an auditorium or even a wedding reception venue.

Having said all that, perfectionism is not a friend of the public speaker. “I’ve had people get up and give a presentation. I think it’s good, everybody in the room thinks it’s good,” says psychologist and speech trainer Catherine Madigan. “And all of a sudden, they will throw up their hands and say, ‘Oh, it’s terrible!’”

High-achiever Olena Staroshchuk can relate to this. After moving to Australia from Ukraine in 2014, she opened a women’s clothing store but struggled with customer banter in English. “You can’t be a salesperson and not be able to talk to people,” she says. “I was this high-achieving girl at school, and for me, making a mistake was a disaster.”

Public speaking was a way for her to gradually stop worrying about how people received her accent or any grammatical missteps. Giving it her best, she found, was better than failing. “I might not do it 100 per cent, but I can learn something from it. Making a mistake is the best learning.” She is now the Victorian president of Rostrum.

‘He imagines himself as a sparkling gorilla, and he laughs at himself.’

Similarly, fixating on goals can be counterproductive. Abrahams’ students “want a good grade”, and the entrepreneurs he coaches can be nervous about winning funding. “If you can bring yourself to be more present-oriented, not be worried about the future, then you’re going to be less nervous,” he says. Quick exercises before speaking, such as counting backwards or tongue twisters, are neat ways of focusing your attention on the present.

And try not to take yourself too seriously. The cliche is imagining the audience naked or in their underwear – “I can’t imagine anything more nerve-wracking,” Abrahams says – but there are other visualisations to keep it light. Denholm was coaching a chief financial officer when talk turned to the psychological theory of “going primal”, and he told her he imagined himself as a gorilla when speaking. “I said, ‘OK, you’re a sparkling gorilla.’ And he loved it,” she says. “He imagines himself as a sparkling gorilla, and he laughs at himself.”

How do you get through the actual speech?

At Stanford, Abrahams became interested in how to address public speaking anxiety after reflecting on a faux pas in his youth. He was competing in his first speaking event on his favourite topic: martial arts. He wanted to kick off the talk, literally, with an opening karate manoeuvre. “I was so nervous I forgot to put on my special karate pants. I ripped my pants from zipper to belt loop in the first 10 seconds of a 10-minute presentation.

“Funnily enough, I got through the speech,” he says. “The woman who was chaperoning the event threw me her sweater, and as I’m speaking, I tied it around my waist. I think because the parents [judging] took pity on me, I actually won it.”

In the moment, he’d flipped a mishap into comedy. “We can do a lot mentally to reframe the way we approach our speaking to actually make us feel more comfortable and confident,” he says.

Anxiety is often expressed through body language: crossed arms, clenched fists, inability to make eye contact. Abrahams coached a senior executive who, as he spoke, peeled the labels off water bottles and unscrewed pens until the spring flew out. “He built a wall around himself with dry erasers,” Abrahams says. “It was mostly his nervous energy.”

That kind of energy can be redirected. “If I’m standing on a big stage presenting in front of a large audience, I can take a step forward with big broad gestures and welcome everybody,” Abrahams says. “It gives my body a place to go; I’m moving, which is what adrenaline is trying to make me do, but I’m doing so in a way that people perceive as competent and appropriate versus the person who retreats and paces back and forth.”

Channelling nerves into enthusiasm won’t work for everyone, notes Irvine. “Instead, I prefer to think, this is the first time my audience has heard my message. This helps me to start at a more meaningful pace. I then rely on my structure and a short, sharp opening so I don’t trip over my words and can ease into the speaking opportunity.” For some speakers, it helps to start with asking a question of the audience or playing a video. “This takes the initial focus off the speaker and, again, allows them to settle into the talk or presentation.”

‘For anyone who’s slightly shaky, no feedback is terrifying.’ Put away mobile phones, resist whispering and smile, nod and laugh at the speaker’s jokes.

Asking a question is also a handy trick if you lose your train of thought, says Abrahams. “Just knowing you can do that reduces the pressure because you know you have a ripcord you can pull that gets you out of that situation.” And if you’re a repeat offender with “umms” and “ahhs”, try a short pause instead.

Humour is “the fastest reframe for the brain” says Denholm, smoothing awkward segues, disarming the audience and adding some light and shade in a speech. Jokes can work in unlikely situations: sensitively placed among poignant anecdotes in a eulogy or to offer a breather before the charts and figures at an annual meeting. The safest humour is self-deprecating. “I just take the piss out of myself,” says Patrick Cripps of getting stuck on stage. As he accepted a Brownlow Medal in 2022, he poked fun at himself for being unfit when he joined Carlton. “A lot of people said I rolled into the club,” he said to laughter. “I wasn’t the most athletic bloke going around.”

And a word to the audience: a public speech is, to a degree, a group effort. Rather than staring blankly at the speaker, it helps them if you at least appear engaged. “For anyone who’s slightly shaky, no feedback is terrifying,” Denholm says. Put away mobile phones, resist whispering to your neighbour and smile, nod and laugh at the speaker’s jokes. “It’s just doing those little conversational cues as if it was a one-on-one.”

But why bother to take the chance to speak?

Singer-songwriter Meg Washington developed a stutter as a four-year-old. By her final year of school, she couldn’t get the words out to deliver an English oral presentation. “It was excruciating,” she tells us. “It’s like a bit of a tic, it comes out when I’m more vulnerable.” She became skilled at replacing words she couldn’t say: “You might say the road instead of the highway.” This works, she says, until she gets to a proper noun like someone’s name. But the only way she could not stutter at all was to have her voice follow a rhythm, such as when she sang. “It was magic to me.”

That’s reminiscent of how King George VI wrestled with a stammer with help from Australian speech therapist Lionel Logue. “My dear Logue,” a delighted King wrote days after his 1937 coronation, “The Queen and I have just viewed the film of our Coronation … You know how anxious I was to get my responses right in the Abbey … but my mind was finally set at ease tonight. Not a moment’s hesitation or mistake!” Logue, played by Geoffrey Rush in the film The King’s Speech, coached the then-Duke of York through breathing exercises, tongue twisters and shouting vowels from an open window. In the film, he “conducts” the King through a near faultless broadcast to the nation after war was declared with Germany in 1939. Logue: “You still stammered on the w.” The King: “Had to throw in a few, so they knew it was me.”

Meg Washington won two ARIA awards in her 20s, but public speaking remained her worst nightmare. Then came an opportunity to deliver a TED talk to more than 2000 people in the Sydney Opera House (and many more online). “The truth is I have spent my life up to this point, and including this point, living in mortal dread of public speaking,” she says in the speech in 2014. She stutters dozens of times and finishes to thundering applause. Today, the speech has been viewed more than 2 million times.

‘I have just done all these things with speech I would have never been able to do.’

“I certainly have felt totally liberated by that speech,” she says. “The worst thing that could have happened did happen, which is that I stuttered.” Nowadays, she doesn’t always attempt to hide it. “If the stutter is there, then it’s there.” She’s presented awards, become the voice of a character on the children’s show Bluey and narrated a TV show. “I have just done all these things with speech I would have never been able to do.”

Sean McCaul has practised speaking in front of small groups at a Rostrum club for seven years. “It’s given me the opportunity to do speeches without the pressure I felt at work,” he says. His biggest regret is that he didn’t do it sooner. “I let it limit what I could’ve achieved in my career.” He’s now been on a panel speaking about his business. He still gets nervous but enjoys pushing through. “Considering how stressful it is, you do get a confidence boost after you do it.“

Many speakers describe a buzz after a successful speech. Denholm explains this as feeling your energy land and then come back at you through the audience’s response. “And our system knows that, our cells are vibrating, and we have this sense of resonance when it’s working.”

Kylie Campbell, who struggled with shyness, has now MC’d public speaking awards in front of packed auditoriums. When she feels a speech has worked, she walks away with a tingling sensation or a grin on her face. “I feel like I’ve actually done it,” she says. “Seeing that people do listen and want to learn from what I’ve got to say, it’s a good feeling. You’re not just getting up there to fill some space and time, you’ve gotten a message across.”

With his friend’s wedding on the horizon, Justin is slowly building confidence at a weekly class. “The best thing I’ve done is just to do it. I would avoid it any way I could in the past, and now I’m obviously doing this course and getting up in front of people,” he says. “The more you do it, that’s the only way you’re going to overcome it.” He’s looking forward to raising a glass to the bride and groom. His words will linger in the room for a moment, followed by applause.

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