From Bed Wetting to Professional Speaking

I'm kind of a weird case, but you probably are too

I’m kind of a weird case. I was a very scared kid. Wet the bed until I was ten because I was afraid to get up and walk down the dark hall to the washroom. I was a chronic nail-biter as a teen. My parents found this chili-pepper liquid to paint on my fingers, designed to deter nail biting by making it a very unpleasant experience. I got used to having my mouth on fire and while my nails continued to suffer.

I had lots of social fear and anxiety my whole life, introvert by nature—so of course I’ve spent a lifetime making my living in front of people on stage. To prove something? Probably. I was an unconfident, insecure person who wanted to put on a convincing show. Literally. But my usual routine for decades was to wow people on stage and then go hide between performances.

I worked as dancer, comedian, street performer (made my living for 10 years out of donations into my hat as a street juggler topping a 6-figure income for several of those years) and then I got “discovered” on the street by a corporate executive who approached me after a show asked if I ever presented to business groups. “Oh yeah,” I said with conviction, which was a total lie. I’d never done a corporate gig in my life, but he invited me to entertain at an event for GE Plastics. That opened the door to more corporate events and 20 years of work as a corporate entertainer.

So my life was punctuated by isolation and loneliness with occasional bursts of showmanship.

But here’s the weird thing.

All of my entertainment was silent. I was a silent physical comedian. I used my physical skills as a circus performer and mime to bypass the need to speak. At all. I’ve asked myself why for years, and my earliest memory of “losing” my voice was when I got caught singing the Star Spangled banner in a concrete stairwell after school when I was seven.

Thinking I was alone, I was enthralled with the sound and power of my own voice, until a couple of sneaky school mates who were spying on me leapt out to make merciless fun of me, then and there, and teased me for the rest of the school year in front of everyone.

As you can imagine, I didn’t sing after that. Or want to speak up in front of people.

Repeated instances of bullying as a kid reinforced my retreat into silence. I quietly performed my way through life. I haven’t been on anybody’s payroll in 50 years because I needed control over my working conditions. Becoming an entertainer/entrepreneur accomplished that. But eventually, not having a “voice” started to take its toll. I faced the need to get my voice back—as a friend, a husband, a father, and a professional.

In 2009 I lost all my performing work with the economic downturn when corporations cancelled meetings during the collapse. I had the crazy idea that I might try to write a book about my experiences as a (silent) performer and entertainer, thinking having a book might help me to promote myself once the market rebounded. But when I sat down to write, I stared at a blinking cursor for 3 days and drew a big, grand-canyon blank. What in the world could I say to business leaders and executives that would be taken seriously? Me. A street juggler. I didn’t just have imposter syndrome—I was a one-man imposter army.

Finally, it occurred to me that I might have a couple of interesting stories to tell from my colorful background as an entertainer. And when I started to speak from my own direct experience, instead of writing what I thought might be passable or impressive to others, I just started describing the life I had lived and the floodgates opened.

I wound up with a book of life experiences from street performing that mapped surprisingly well to unique lessons about organizational and professional excellence. The book is called, 7 Rules You Were Born to Break. I self-published it, and when I introduced it to meeting planners once the economy came back online, I made double the income I’d ever made in my life from gigs and book sales, because my story, combined with the entertainment factor, suited what the market needed at that time—someone who could help business executives laugh and think at the same time.

Writing the book armed me with my own unique stories, and with those in hand, I slowly and gradually started sharing them—with my voice!

I’d found a magic formula for addressing imposter syndrome.

Stories. Wisdom. Voice.

My early life experiences and the challenges I’ve faced were the seeds of what has become my current adult mission, to help others express themselves with confidence, and to claim their gifts and strengths. I went from being a silent, insecure street performer to working as a Fortune 100 speaker.

It was a long road from being teased in the stairwell to getting my voice back.

I know imposter syndrome like the back of my hand. I’ve learned a secret to coping with it that nobody talks about, which is to speak honestly and openly from direct experience. Everything we have actually lived is the seat of our authority, and I teach others how to use personal storytelling to model and inspire authentic expression everywhere they go.

Now, at age 65, I’ve been a lifelong entertainer, presenter, and professional speaker who has launched a communication mastery community (Write Hearted) and group coaching program called Proof of Authority.

The coaching program is focused on helping professionals outline and write a book and deliver a signature talk without imposter syndrome holding them back.

It all starts with finding our stories.

I’m known in the speaking world for my “bad waiter” routine.

My keynotes begin with me dressed identically to the service staff in a five-star hotel, posing as a waiter, who gets more and more eccentric, odd, clumsy and inept over the course of the meal. By the end of the meal all the guests are in whispered conversation about how in the world this server ever got his job and how he’s keeping it.

Just when they’re ready to get the manager to have me removed, I come to the stage and reveal I’m their keynote speaker. (See www.ricklewis.co for hidden camera footage.)

The result of delivering my presentations this way is that I have 100% of the crowd’s attention before I say a word, and when I start speaking about organizational development issues they have an unforgettable experiential framework to digest it with, and when I’m done speaking they walk out of the room and tell several people before the day is over about this terrible, inept waiter who became their keynote speaker.

It’s recommended that small businesses spend from 7% - 12% of their annual revenue on marketing and advertising. In the last 15 years my average annual marketing spend has been about 2% of a multiple six-figure income.

That’s possible because everyone who comes into contact with my product and service walks away with a story to tell, and becomes a living, breathing marketing machine on my behalf. The reason they want to repeat the story is because it depicts a transformation—a shy, awkward, silent waiter becomes the keynote speaker. It’s very close to my real personal story, but it’s also a story that belongs to all of us, the struggle we each enact to show our true strengths and gifts to the world.

The key to your professional success is to arm your customers, colleagues, and peers with good stories to repeat about your actions, values, and character. Being transparent and generous with our experience increases our human surface area and gives others a wide invitation for connection.

I’ve written 5 books in all and am working on a new book right now.

Proof of Authority:

Share your wisdom in a book and deliver a signature talk without imposter syndrome holding you back

The bold claim of the book and the coaching program is that you don’t need to be a literary genius to write a great book, or remember a hundred tips, tricks and hacks for pacing, delivery, diction, tone, timing, hooks and loops to connect with an audience.

You just need to spend some time looking at your authentic past, take a deep breath, and be willing to write and speak honestly about the challenges you’ve faced and the discoveries you’ve made about the way through.

Your authority arises naturally from what you’ve lived. Then you don’t have to imagine your audience in their underwear to feel comfortable in your own skin.

We stop feeling like an imposter when we stop trying to be somebody else. That happens when we realize that we have a real story to tell.

The innovative solution to writing and speaking with ease is story inventory. I’ve been teaching that for a few years now, and have developed a method and tools that streamline the recall of notable life memories. I’ve worked with hundreds of professionals helping them with storytelling, and the biggest fail point is people completely ignoring and discounting the incredible experiences of their past.

I’ve coached people who have dismissed being in active war zones, life threatening surgeries, the handling of billion dollar contracts, being the daughter of a CIA operative, and attending a personal meeting with Steve Jobs as experiences that no one would be interested in. You’re thinking that’s crazy, of course, but we all have the tendency to dismiss the value of what we ourselves have lived.

Identifying and acknowledging these stories is more important than how you tell them.

Think about it. Would you rather listen to a professional speaker describe their breakfast with perfect intonation and pacing, or your friend stumble through the authentic heartfelt telling of when their father died in a plane crash when they were 15. That was a story I heard from a friend just this week.

Story selection, and then story mapping from our experiences to the insights we want to communicate, is more important than perfection of delivery.

Real human stories are exactly what inspires the humanity and the highest possibility in others. No matter what we think we’re selling or providing, it’s always some version of transformation that others desire, and we all have transformation stories, because we’re all kind of weird, but we’ve found our way through.

Thanks for letting me tell you my story. I hope I get to hear yours.

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I just launched my first Proof of Authority coaching program and it sold out within a few days to members of my existing writing community. I’m doing another one in May and I have room for less than 10 people.

Would you like to work with me to find your best stories, write a book to share your wisdom and develop a signature talk that you can stand up and deliver with confidence?

If you’d be interested in learning more about the program, just reply, “let’s talk” to this email and we’ll find a time for a conversation.