On Public Speaking – and why if I can do, so too can you.
Be passionate, be knowledgeable, be confident, be you.
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I found this reassuring in many ways that even someone as seasoned as the brilliant Lucy must confront the nerves one frustratingly feels course through their veins moments before taking to the stage. Public speaking is no joke! It also allowed me to reflect upon my own speaking journey, something I’ve spoken about on podcasts or at events before, but never put into writing.
I am not a natural speaker. Being a confident public speaker was never in the stars for me. Some schools, particularly public and private, ensure their students experience some public speaking during their education, skills that can prove essential later on in the workplace. My state comprehensive school was not one of those, though I am pleased to see the Speakers Trust doing great work running workshops that help young people in state school develop the skillset needed to become better public speakers.
In fact, I do not recall formally addressing a room of my peers until I went to university. I remember it well. Not for good reasons. During one of my course modules, we were split into groups of three or four and then had to present our findings to the group. School was one thing, where often I would play the class clown to laughs or groans depending on the maturity of my audience, but university is different, isn’t it? It’s serious business. I remember with dread when our name was called and up we stepped, taking probably no more than ten steps to the front of the class but which felt like a meandering hike up an undulating Welsh hill.
Those expectant faces staring back, peers who I wanted to impress, friends I had made or hoped to make, people whose respect I wanted. I can’t remember what we were discussing or what I said, but I do vividly recall stuttering over my words, hands shaking as they buried deeper into my pockets, my barely audible voice trembling. I had hair back then, but it was soon matted with sweat. The result was gibberish and I was marked accordingly and without sympathy. A failure that still lingers, regardless of public speaking success in the interim. I went straight to the Student’s Union afterwards for a beer that was ingested before it had barely finished pouring from the tap. It was probably still about 11am. Urgh.
NOVICE SPEAKER
When York Pubs was published in 2016, an organisation in the city, the Association of Voluntary Guides, reached out to me wondering if I give talks. I give it a lot of consideration and agreed to chat to them about my research. The talk was hosted on 2 March 2016 in a beautiful Georgian townhouse and I prepared a speech that explored my research.
It was a pleasant enough experience and plenty of people came up to me afterwards to tell me about their own pub associations, but during the talk itself, I don’t think I looked up once to the thirty or so souls who had generously given their time to attend. My body language was rigid, my speech fast and at times incoherent. I was petrified to move from beyond my dalek-like lectern. A decade since that awful university experience, here I was again, heart feeling like it was going to explode out of my chest and into the front row, forehead drenched with sweat, and trembling hands that seemed possessed. Despite kind words, I knew it wasn’t good.
Four months later, I stepped up to the oche once again, remarkably, to present the same subject for the Dringhouses Local History Group. Speaking to a much larger audience in a sweltering village hall, I sweated so profusely through a combination of heat and nerves that my notes became illegible. I don’t recall looking up once, so scared was I off the facing looking back. As I was about to swear off ever putting myself through this torture again, I noticed something at the back of the room – people were flicking through my book, and some were even reaching into their purses and wallets to find a note to buy them. My book! They were buying them!
It was then I realised that publishing a book and posting about it online is not enough for it to shift copies, certainly not without a significant promotional push from the publishers, which very few authors receive. But these people, who had attended the talk, heard about the writing process and your research in person, who through the ‘ums’, the ‘aahs’ and the stuttering had experienced your passion first hand, were more likely to invest their time and money in your work. Giving talks is imperative if selling books is your objective, which it should be for every published author.
MODEST SUCCESS
And so, I knew I needed to work on this. Giving up was not an option if I wanted my work to reach more than supportive family and friends. Spurred on by an encouraging wife, another opportunity arose in August 2016 when I was invited to speak about Henry VII at the Bosworth Medieval Festival and on 29 October I was back in the Bosworth area to talk before the Richard III Foundation. From there, bookings came through steadily – in 2017 I spoke in East Stoke, York, Llanelli, Lancaster, Barnet and Bosworth once more, normally to crowds averaging about 30 or 40 people.
In 2018, a difficult year for personal reasons, I continued to hit the road, running from my life and trying to find peace by pushing myself to new experiences. I spoke in York, Stony Stratford, St Albans, Evesham, Llandeilo, Oundle, Lincoln, East Stoke, Saxton, London, Chelmsford and Lathom – that is hundreds, thousands even, of miles covered. I even, oddly, spoke in front of the 19th Earl of Derby, who was a direct descendant of the 1st Earl of Derby, better known as Thomas Stanley, Richard III’s betrayer. It actually became addictive, travelling across the country, speaking to people who told you how much they enjoyed your talks, being feted for an hour or so before the long drive home, still on a high.
2019 continued in similar vein, with talks in Tewkesbury, Carmarthen, Harrogate, Oxford, Wakefield, Sheffield, Barnet, Bosworth again, Norwich, and Conwy. Some of these were hugely successful and others not so much, but vital nonetheless in continuing to develop the craft of public speaking. In the same week, I spoke in front of more than two hundred people at a BBC event in Oxford, just a few days after only four people came to a talk in Harrogate. In fact, only one person, the lovely Lilian, came to my talk in Barnet!
That said, it doesn’t matter if one person of 100 people come to your talks, the key is to treat each person as if they are the most important person in that room – they have given up their time and money to spend with you, so always remember every talk is as important as the one that came before or the one that comes afterwards, regardless of attendance. If people have invested in you, invest in them. It’ll pay off, I promise.
IMPOSTER SYNDROME
At some point during this journey, something changed, and I can’t quite pinpoint where it happened. At the beginning, I was a nervous wreck, panicking in the run up to talks, anxious about my knowledge, worried people would think I was a fraud, trembling during the talks and full of self-esteem issues about how I looked and how I sounded. In fact, I used to open my talks with a self-deprecating “joke” that nobody ever laughed at:
“Hello everyone, my name is Nathen Amin and as you’re about to discover from my accent, I am from West Wales. So, allow me to apologise - if you are unable to understand anything I say, please just speak up and I’ll try to speak slower!’
This nervous opening was borne out of imposter syndrome and comparing myself to many other public speakers in the history sphere and wider – well-educated, middle class English voices comfortable in front of crowds. Who was I pretending to be them, with my working class background and thick regional accent?
Throughout my life, English friends had pointed out how us Welsh mispronounce words – when I say ear, here and year, for example, they all sound the same. When I did a TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) course in Oxford when I was in my early 20’s, it was a source of mild amusement that I couldn’t saw the letter ‘U’ like everyone else, it coming out as the South Walian ‘ew’. No, I didn’t belong on this stage alongside the usual speakers, and soon people would realise what a fraud I was. After all, was it not also true my degree was in journalism not history?
At one of these events, a woman came up to me afterwards and upbraided me – how dare I apologise for who I was and where I was from, and to never be ashamed of my Welsh accent. She struck a nerve - us Welsh are amongst the proudest people there are – we are no shrinking violets when it comes to expressing out Welshness. But something used to come over me before going up to speak before a crowd.
KEEPIN’ IT REAL
This ties in to what I used to wear – I bought a few nice jackets I used to wear with shirts, some smart boots. I looked professional, and everyone likes looking smart and even stylish, but here’s the thing - it felt like a costume. If you were to meet me in everyday life, the chances are you’ll find me wearing jeans, some Adidas Gazelle trainers and a hoodie. I’m a lad from the South Welsh Valleys, and I dress like one. I feel comfortable wearing what I’ve always worn.
One day, I gave a talk in a simple hoodie and my timberland boots, and I was so relaxed. I was me. And it came across in the talk, which was one of my finest. I was smiling, I was maintaining eye contact with people in the crowd, I was using my hands to gesture and reiterate key points during the talk, and I was speaking slowly and taking care to properly enunciate words that may cause confusion.
Again, another lesson learned – be yourself, don’t try and be something you aren’t. Once I began dressing like I usually would, speaking like I usually would, behaving like I usually would, my talks went up a level because I was being me. I’ve lost count of people who have approached me saying they find me accessible and relatable, that I look like them and sound like them, that I am approachable and passionate. It gives me inspiration to connect to my audiences, because I am one of them. This is not to say there is anything wrong with dressing well or speaking well, of course, the point is authenticity – BE YOU.
PRACTICAL ADVICE
But wait, how did I go from two random local history societies in York finding me and asking me to give talks to speaking all over the country? Sure, a few people reached out to me via my website, but here’s something many people aren’t aware of when starting out – ‘don’t ask, don’t get’, or as my northern girlfriend says, ‘shy kids get now’. Talks don’t just appear out of the blue, you need to be proactive.
I have lost count of the thousands of emails I have send across the last decade, touting myself for business to various historical societies, book festivals or libraries across the country. I introduce myself, I explain what talks I can give and include a list of venues I have already spoken at.
For the first few years, I think I would be lucky if I received replies from less than 5% of the places I emailed, but some bit and, as time went on, my ‘speaking CV’ grew. It is now far easier to be booked for talks as I can show more than a hundred venues I’ve spoken at, some quite prestigious and largescale, having first developed my speaking abilities in those early days. Just this very morning I have pitched a few societies for more talks in the latter half of 2025 – let’s see if any take a bite!
I have had the incredible fortune to now have spoken in some unbelievable venues and on some of the largest platforms – I think of the British Embassy in Paris, Windsor Castle, Southwark Cathedral, Lincoln Cathedral, the British Museum and British Library, the Gloucester History Festival, Warwick Words, BBC History Weekend and so much more.
I have shared the stage with people I once looked up to, and still do, history heroes who I now look across to as we tread the same boards and share thoughts before a watching audience – I think of people like
, Matthew Lewis, Tracy Borman, Sarah Gristwood, Owen Emmerson, Kate McCaffrey and to name a few. Heroes become colleagues, colleagues become friends. If that’s not encouragement to get out and there, I’m not sure what is.
And what about the talk itself? What advice do I have to give there?
Well – first and foremost work out what lesson or lecture you want to tell the audience. What is your point, what is the reason you are up on stage? You have 45 minutes – you aren’t going to cover the reign of Henry VIII in that time, for example, certainly not in any meaningful depth. So pick and interesting aspect of your subject, and zero in.
There is a reason newspaper articles have clickbait headlines to draw in the reader – come up with a clickbaity headline, and that might help focus you on your talk subject matter – ‘Henry VIII & Anne Boleyn: The Downfall of a Marriage’ for example, straight away gives you purpose, and lets the audience know what precisely they will hear about – they’ll know the basics, sure, but YOU’RE going to go into more detail, and that’s why they are going to invest their time.
Organising your talk is important – the usual storytelling start, middle and end should apply, taking the audience on a whirlwind journey of infotainment; let’s take my Tudor Pretenders talk for example - I briefly introduce Henry VII, build up a context about how he became king, before exploring in order Lambert Simnel then Perkin Warbeck. I then do a follow up, exploring whether I think they were real princes or not, and conclude by bringing it back to Henry VII, the person I started the talk with.
It shouldn’t just be random information you’re throwing out – think like a stand-up does, how their performance has a underpinning theme they start and end with. And always, ALWAYS, end with a point that doubles down on what you’ve spoken about and leaves the audience in no uncertainty about why you delivered that talk and why it was important they were present to listen. Go big. Oh, and don’t forget to thank them people and say something pleasant about the place you’re speaking in. Go for the cheap applause and smiles, it’s ok – it gets everyone off to a nice start.
PowerPoint - for goodness sake, work on your presentation. It need not be anything grand, but each step through your talk, illustrate your point on the screen - if you’re mentioning a castle or a person, show a picture on screen. If you’re talking about a family, maybe show a family tree. If you’re quoting historical sources or speech, literally show as well as tell so people can read at their own pace. We are a hyperactive people - give people a slight distraction from an hour of staring directly at you, and believe me, it helps everyone in the room.
Learn how many spoken words equals about 45 minutes, which is the usual length of a public lecture in the public history sphere. I know through experience, for example, that about 4300 words is a good length for how I speak. I would say rehearsing your talk seems a good idea, but I found you can’t really replicate a real-world environment – best bet is to just get out there and repeat until its finessed. And speak as you would speak – don’t litter your talk with difficult words you might struggle to say, or complex jargon that the audience might not understand – keep it as close to how you would normally deliver a talk – this is no time for novelties. If I can’t confidently say a word, either practice until its normal or remove it. After one talk, my sister-in-law had to explain that I’m saying intrepid completely wrong! Be authentic, be confident.
On that note, body language is important, but again, providing it’s authentic. I personally feel most comfortable behind a lectern, but I use my hands a lot to emphasise points, speaking with them so I am not stationary for 45 minutes, which is the worst thing to do. Let people know there is a human there.
Providing you’re not speaking at a serious academic conference, and even then it’s probably fair game, don’t take yourself or the subject too seriously. Feel free to adlib a joke here or there, to show some personality and connect with the audience. Nobody wants to be spoken to for an hour in a robotic, monotone way – it’s a performance. If you enjoy the subject, let them see that. Passion gets you a long way in this game. If an audience laughs, roll with it, and remember how you made them laugh for next time. Learn to read the audience – if they are reacting to something on the screen or something you’ve said, give them a moment to ingest that information. Oh, and get to the venue early, look around, get acclimatised and make sure there’s not tech issues. Speak to people, relax, take it all in, especially the more fancy venues.
Public speaking about something you are really passionate about is a joy to do so and here’s the thing – I now walk on stage in clothes I’d wear to the pub, I speak in my natural unaffected voice, I crack jokes and go off on tangents, and I have plenty of fun, without any nerves in sight. Ok, some nerves, but good nerves, the kind that give you that edge you need. Nobody who has invested their time to come and hear you speak wants you to fail, and more importantly, you KNOW your subject. This is your chance to share your research, share your thoughts, and hopefully shift some books!
So, if you’re thinking of getting started as a public historian who gives talks about their work, what are you waiting for? Get out of your comfort zone, start pestering venues near you to give talks, begin building up a profile and gaining experience, and hopefully we one day share the platform together.
Nathen, so much of what you say here resonates with me, especially "Heroes become colleagues, colleagues become friends." I remember seeing my name on the front of a literary journal and realizing, I know all the other names on this publication! I couldn't believe I had "made it" when my heroes started inviting ME to contribute. Real scholas and artists are generous and love inviting more enthusiasts to the table.
Thank you what great advice and so relatable. I'm talking next month to a small group within my U3a so I'll take on board your hints.