Beyond the Prepared Remarks: Why the best "impromptu" speeches practiced presence
Can I be honest? Most public speaking advice misses the mark.
We’ve all seen the person who has "prepared." They’ve spent six weeks polishing their PowerPoint slides. They’ve memorized their opening hook. They’ve even practiced their "spontaneous" hand gestures in the mirror. Then, thirty seconds into the presentation, the Wi-Fi cuts out or a senior VP asks a question that wasn't in the script.
The speaker freezes. The mask slips. Suddenly, they aren't a leader; they’re a deer in the headlights of a corporate spreadsheet.
The problem isn't that they didn't prepare enough. The problem is they prepared the wrong thing. They prepared the remarks, but they didn't practice the presence.
The Toastmasters Trap
I’ve seen this go wrong more times than I can count. Programs like Toastmasters are fantastic for building a baseline of confidence. They give you a safe space to fail, which is vital. But there is a ceiling to that kind of structure.
The catch is that structured environments often teach you how to perform a version of yourself that is "correct" rather than "authentic." You learn to count your filler words. You learn to stand with your feet shoulder-width apart. You learn the "Table Topics" method of answering a question by buying time with a canned phrase.
It’s all very polite. It’s also incredibly rigid.
When you focus entirely on the mechanics of the speech, you stop being a human in a room and start being a delivery system for data. Improv flips this on its head. In an improv class, there is no script to hide behind. There are no slides to distract the audience. There is only you, your partner, and the immediate reality of the moment.
The Myth of the "Quick Wit"
People think the best impromptu speakers are just "fast." They think these people have a biological advantage—a brain that fires 20% quicker than the rest of us.
Frankly, that’s a myth.
The best impromptu speakers aren't faster; they’re just more present. They aren't trying to outrun the silence. They’ve actually learned how to sit in it.
I’ve found that the "um" and "ah" sounds we hate so much are usually just the sound of a brain panic-searching for a "correct" answer that doesn't exist. When you take an improv class, the first thing you learn is that there is no "right" move—only the "next" move. Once you accept that you can't be wrong, your brain stops the frantic search and starts actually listening to what is happening in the room.
Building a "Muscle" for the Unknown
Think of your presence as a muscle. Most people only exercise it when they are forced to. They go through life on autopilot, then act surprised when their brain locks up during a high-stakes meeting.
Improv is the gym for that muscle.
Grounding and the "Inner Yes"
In relationship-based improv, we talk about being "grounded." This doesn't mean being serious; it means being connected to the floor, your breath, and the person in front of you.
I’ve seen speakers lose an entire audience because they were too busy "navigating"—oops, let’s say "managing"—their own internal anxiety. They were looking at their notes, looking at the ceiling, looking at the clock. They were everywhere except for the five inches in front of their own face.
The Physics of Listening
The best speeches feel like a conversation, even if only one person is talking. This happens because the speaker is "listening" to the audience’s energy.
- Are they leaning in?
- Are they checking their phones?
- Did that joke land, or did it die a slow, painful death?
If you are stuck in your "prepared remarks," you can't adjust. You’re like a train on a track—even if there’s a boulder on the rails, you’re just going to keep chugging along until the inevitable crash. Improv teaches you to be the off-road vehicle. You see the boulder, you acknowledge the boulder, and you incorporate the boulder into the journey.
Actionable Strategy: The 1% Shift
If you want to move beyond the script, you don't need to quit your job and join a comedy troupe. You just need to start practicing presence in small, uncomfortable increments.
1. The "Yes, And" Internal Filter
Next time someone suggests a bad idea in a meeting, don't shut it down immediately. Internally, say "Yes, and..." This doesn't mean you agree with the idea. It means you acknowledge the reality of it.
- The old way: "That won't work because of the budget."
- The improv way: "Yes, we have that idea on the table, and if we were to pursue it, we’d need to find a way to reconcile it with our current budget constraints."
One is a door closing. The other is a door opening.
2. Practice Active Noticing
When you are speaking, pick one person in the room. Don't stare at them—that’s creepy. But truly look at them. Notice the color of their shirt. Notice if they are nodding. By focusing on a specific external detail, you pull yourself out of the "I hope I don't look stupid" feedback loop in your own head.
3. Embrace the Silence
The next time you lose your train of thought, don't say "um." Just stop. Look at the audience. Breathe.
To you, that silence feels like an eternity. To the audience, it looks like "gravitas." It looks like you are a person who is so comfortable in their own skin that they aren't afraid of a few seconds of quiet.
Why You Should Care Right Now
The world is getting noisier. AI can write a "perfect" speech in three seconds. It can generate insights and reports.
But AI cannot be present. It cannot feel the tension in a boardroom. It cannot see the look of confusion on a client’s face and pivot the conversation to address their fear.
The only competitive advantage you have left is your humanity. Your ability to be authentically, messily, and brilliantly present in a room is the only thing that can't be automated.
Stop trying to be a perfect speaker. Start trying to be a present one. The remarks are just words. The presence is what actually changes minds.
What is the biggest "Oh shit" moment you’ve ever had while speaking in public?