I did an Ignite talk, and you should, too

Last night, I did something difficult: I stood up, in front of ~100*-ish people (author’s edit on 2/22/22: I have been told by organizers there were at least 240! people in the audience) — and a bunch silently watching on a livestream) — in one of my city’s most respectable venues, and, for a full five minutes — with no notes, and a relentlessly auto-advancing 20 slide presentation — and spoke on a topic that is really important to me…like intrinsic to my deepest, truest self (why “Gypsy” is a goddam racial slur and everyone who is not Romany needs to stop using it immediately).

I went third, bookended in either direction by a total of 9 other talks, all engaging, all vulnerable, and, by the end of the evening, I was absolutely exhausted and completely energized.

Last night, I did an Ignite talk. And I really think you should do one, too — especially if you don’t think you want to, and particularly if the idea terrifies you.

Ignite started in Seattle, so I know my audience definitely has a reputation for being superlatively enthusiastic and proud of being OG. But, seriously, while the (very loud for being smaller than usual) applause was nice (not gonna lie), the adrenaline and brief validation of strangers is not why I’m telling you to find your local event and submit a talk, posthaste.

It’s because of all of the work the Ignite staff puts into getting their speakers up there, to the point where they can walk off the stage so highly spent, they pass out on a cloud.

Especially if you don’t think you want to. Particularly if the idea terrifies you.

We had a month, more or less by a few days, from acceptance to event (from what I understand, a bit shorter than usual). We also had a pandemic. But from the day of acceptance, staff was attentive and communicative (sometimes 10 emails a day communicative). Date and milestones were set, including an early general coaching session, with a seasoned public speaker (who’s done Ignite, as well as a ton of other speaking engagements).

The coaching session is where shit got real. I’m not exactly a n00b at being on stage: I spent 5 years a decade-and-change-ago as a burlesque dancer, sometimes emcee for burlesque and fetish events; I’ve taught classes for 20 years; I’m a writer who’s done readings; I’ve paneled at more conventions than I can count; and generally, am a complex Autistic amalgamation of introvert-who-freaking-loves-attention-for-well-defined-periods-of-time.

And. But. Five minutes, on a topic tender and dear to me (where I can’t fall back on being funny)?

Not so much.

There’s a rhythm and cadence to a good talk. There are slides that just have impact, as they click by. I picked up on this immediately, watching previous talks. But I couldn’t duplicate it.

The coaching session was practical. We were walked through the anatomy of a talk, how slides fit into a talk, and exactly what to expect — at the venue, on the stage, all of it.

At the end, we were assigned 1-on-1 mentors, from experienced Ignite speakers and staff, and maybe I just hit some kind of jackpot, but this is where I was, well, blown away. My mentor set up meetings with me by the next day, so I had mini-milestones to hit (helpful!) and, while I want to sing the praises of my mentor, chances are when (when!) you do Ignite, you won’t have them (nyah!), and their singular awesomeness is not the point. The point is: from early on, expectations were clear, coaching was available, and then, I had a person to whom I could cry to.

And, crying…well, I wanted to. Five minutes is…less time than you think, when you are trying to get specific points across. My first draft of my talk ran 20 minutes, no joke, and I thought I was being too brief.

And that’s where my mentor laser focused with me: how to condense, condense, condense, to the essence of what I needed to say. Then, they were an honest ear to how I came across (my topic was v serious, and I wanted to be brutally honest, but not so brutal that I shamed everyone). We met a good few times, and each time sending me off with ways to perfect what I wanted to do — and each time, able to actually see progress.

I was told the average Ignite speaker spends about 15 hours preparing. I easily spent double that. It was a lot of work, more than I understood going in. But here’s the thing, reluctant participant: I felt supported at every step. Not micromanaged, not floating in space. I needed structure, and was able to ask for it. Others, who didn’t need that, could do their thing.

The last week was a rush of rehearsals, finalizing slides, figuring out WTF to wear. But still, I was checked in on. I was encouraged. I really felt like I had a team.

And if my talk was a success, it was because of this team. I woke up today feeling different and back to myself, simultaneously.

So, you. Do it. Ignite is a rare opportunity, and one we need now more than ever. Three years into a pandemic, it’s easy to feel disconnected from everything: what we care about, who we want to be, and our communities. I know I’ve felt it, hard, even as I didn’t recognize it until I committed to this process.

As things start to open back up — I hope you will, too.

* following very rational pandemic guidelines, nearly-sold out audience capped at 30% of venue’s capacity. It still, felt like a LOT of people.