Have you ever been to the kind of presentation, where someone stands up and gives a dull powerpoint? The kind of presentation where someone has their back to the audience, staring at a screen saying “Refer to Appendix C…” Time slows down.
The audience wants to poke their eyes out. Even the presenter wants to blind herself with the laser pointer.
Whenever I go to an event, they say do you have powerpoint? MAKE YOUR FACE YOUR POWEPOINT.
Why?
Sure you can do a slide show or power point but you need to be sure its an add on -and sure your presentation can survive without it. Because I can’t tell you how many gigs I have been at where you get there and the technology messes up and you’re stuck. What are you going to use? Hand puppets? Mime?
You need a solid well crafted story. And you need to rehearse like actors do. Getting the nuances right.
The story needs to be something the audience goes through it with you.
As a presenter its important you get your face animated. You got to get some energy going. It doesn’t mean acting it out like some grade 2 schoolteacher. That is just annoying, but as my friend and comic, Ron James, told me -in comedy, you need to “Get in their seats. *(which is quite different than get in their pants–that my friends is a a whole other seminar)
Paint a picture with words. Use relaxed language to illustrate what point you want to make!
BODY LANGUAGE +TELLING YOUR FACE TO HAVE SOME FUN= ENGAGED AUDIENCE.
That means you RISK looking like a dork.
Looking like a dork is part of the deal.
And you will screw up. You won’t die of embarassment. I haven’t.
So tell your audience you’re in on the knowledge that you are a dork. (or hambone, or I lost my place) They can see you did. And if you tell them hey I know I am lost. I am cool with it, they relax.
You don’t want an audience feeling sorry for you!
ONE FUNNY LADY can help make your presentation style, BRILLIANT.
At this point most people say, “But I am NO public speaker.”
You don’t have to be. You need techniques to bring levity to your work.
So ONE FUNNY LADY(which is me and I don’t know why I am talking in the royal we.) has created a way for you to share your brilliant experience and knowledge in a better way.
WHAT WILL YOU LEARN:
1) How to use body language to make the point.
2) Through story, animation and voice tone (as well as projection– they won’t get the information if you can’t hear you)
3) Tried and true techniques to battle stage fright. And how to make your knees stop shaking.
4) Five powerful techniques to bring humour to the room.
Two ways to do it.
A group coaching.(2-3 hours depending on size of group. Maximum 25 people) 1500 plus HST.
Or one on one. (2 hours) 225.00 (by phone and email so you have time to practice. We do Skype calls so I can watch and coach first hand how to deliver)
(Oh and by the way I’m taking clients for even one session for the next couple weeks to support people jump start thier lives! Give yourself a gift of support and inspiration.)
Got a great gig on DNTO for CBC RADIO.February 29th 2012. Telling my cat with a can on its head story,. The premise of the show are true stories about a particular topic. Should be great fun. EVENT sold out. Same night have to speak to The Second City Theatre students about surviving the comedy business. Yes I am now taking my place as a comedy crone.
Most people can go their entire lives and not feel the need to tour a prison, but I’m writing a movie about prison guards.
Female prison guards, to be precise. I got interested in female guards because I am in comedy. In the world of comedy, men outnumber women about ten to one and I was interested to see how women coped in another primarily male-dominated system. As I started doing research, I quickly found not only that there’s a high percentage of females working in corrections, but that a good deal of them guard men. We all guard men in one way or another, especially after a few cocktails, but I was surprised. After countless interviews, I realized I needed to visit an institution if I was going to be able to reflect the culture.
I thought about going into Quinte Detention Centre, but there would’ve been too many of my relatives in there wanting me to bring them smokes. So I booked a tour in Millhaven, which is very simple, really. Like five degrees of separation kind of simple. I must admit, I had no idea what to expect. There wasn’t a brochure. No pictures. In my imagination, I thought it would likely be worse than a Kimmett family reunion, but not as bad as when my hometown lost a hockey game.
Yes, I am joking. I use humour to deflect fear. The more freaked out I am, the more jokes I make, then three days later, I feel my real feelings and freak out. So the day I went in to The Clink, I was hilarious, cracking jokes about what I should wear. Sporting a rack like I do, I don’t want to set anybody off, having the boys overcome by an avalanche of lust. (Yes, they were bad jokes.)
In the end, I opted for a loose sweater and jeans with a gel bra (because the underwire one could be used as a shiv). And then, to top it off, I put on four pairs of underwear, which I know logically wouldn’t have saved me, but it might have slowed things down while the big-necked officers came to save me.
As I drove up the driveway, the first thing I saw was a sign that said “Trespassers will be prosecuted and can spend up to five years in jail.” This is when I hoped they had received my request for the tour. When
55 LIve COMIC WALKInG: My TOur OF A FeDerAL PrISOn
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I got to reception, I was greeted by my tour guide — a former female guard. She didn’t have a thick neck. In fact she was kind of, well … short. And very pretty. So I said, “Boy, you’re short,” which went over as well as you can imagine. And that was just the beginning of the stupid things I did and said that afternoon.
There are so many dos and don’ts when touring a maximum-security facility. Don’t wave at the guys with the guns in the tower. It makes them nervous. At security, don’t ask if they can check your IUD while they’re doing that body search. Don’t pet the drug dog. Just smile and let him sniff your crotch. Don’t be worried that he’ll bite you. He’s a drug dog, so he’s probably getting off on the smell of your J’Adore cologne. In fact, don’t wear J’Adore cologne to a correctional institution, because it won’t be just the dog sniffing you.
Don’t make small talk with the guys in jeans and T-shirts. They are inmates. They don’t wear carrot suits in federal. Yes, I said “carrot suits.” I know the lingo. And don’t say “carrot suits.” You sound like an idiot. When you see inmates wearing jeans that hang low like plumber’s butt, don’t say, “For God’s sake, pull your drawers up and get a belt,” because cons can’t have belts. And don’t call them cons. They might just be murderers or bank robbers, not con artists. And speaking of art, when you see ink drawings of Medusa all over a guy’s arm, don’t say, “Hey, love your ‘too. What gang are you from?” And don’t ask, “Are you holding?” Not even as a joke, because some chicks might suitcase drugs up their woohoo, but you’re not that kind of gal. Besides, you’re old enough to be their mother. Or grandmother. The inmates at Millhaven are younger than you’d expect. A lot younger.
When you see the cells, which are painted pale pink, blue, and green, don’t say, “Who the hell picked out these paint colours? Did Martha Stewart get loose in here and make them paint it the colours of Whoville?”
When I go anywhere, I develop an accent. Two days south of the Mason-Dixon Line, and I’m saying “Y’all want some grits, y’all?” Within sixty minutes of being in Millhaven, I was developing a swagger and
spouting lines like “Guard or cons, we’re all doing time. The only difference is I get to go home at night.”
And then I started comparing my job as a humourist to theirs. “Oh, you were part of a hostage-taking? That’s nothing. I worked with Mike Bullard.”
Just because I “died” on Mike’s show, it’s not the same thing. That metaphor won’t fly, because being a woman in corrections is front-line feminism. Some psychologists claim women are a calming influence on men. The concept is that a tough guy sees a woman, he’ll just be struck peaceful. He’ll fall into some estrogen-induced form of narcolepsy. (And if she has PMS, he’ll voluntarily put himself in solitary confinement.) I don’t know how it works. I do know that anyone in a uniform is seen as an authority figure. And authority is what everybody in there is buck- ing against. So, everybody has to find a unique way to survive. To be seen as human or not to be seen at all. It’s a delicate balance for women. And the ladies I met were tough, funny, and very serious about doing their jobs well. But here’s the thing: Working in corrections, whether female or male, is not an easy job. It makes that gig I did for the Buffalo Tow Truck Operators look like a picnic.
After my hour-and-a-half tour, I was released. As the gates opened, I yelled, “Live comic walking!” and everybody thought I was a riot. But three days later, the jokes stopped. I heard on the news that a guard had shot one inmate for trying to kill another. I finally got that I don’t have a clue how you walk off a day like that. I don’t know how impending violence plays on a psyche day after day, year after year, because I am not a guard. I am a comic who gets to go home at night. And hopefully, never go back in. — excerpt from new bookL http://kimmett.ca/products/the-reviews-for-new-book-that-which-doesnt-kill-you/
“Deb Kimmett may be best known as a comic and motivational speaker, but spend a day with her and you may suspect (as I do) that she was actually born to write. Her writing workshop, infused with humour and the wisdom of a lifetime of writing, is a treat for writers at any stage of the journey.” Maureen McDonald Gauld
“Deb’s workshop was a big gift I gave to myself. From the moment she picked us all up from the ferry docks, I was treated to a full day of self-expression, creativity, and the sheer joy one gets from honestly sharing with like-minded people who just want to expand. It was like a mani-pedi for the mind. You’ll love it!” Linda Kash, actress and writer
“For many years, I have attempted to write but always got stuck starting. Your class was amazing. The idea that I could just do it and not worry about grammar or spelling was right on plus all the ideas to make the juices flow have started on a wonderful trip of memory and discovery. Thank you so much! I can’t wait for the next workshop.” Shirley Miller, watercolour artist
“Deborah Kimmett’s workshop broke through a year-long blank that I couldn’t seem to approach. I’d more or less given up on the whole writing idea, but thought it would be fun to visit the island and see what emerged. The island is a very special place, it’s true, but the workshop itself was the gentle magic I needed to allow myself to write again. I haven’t stopped!” Rachel Atlas, French teacher
“When I left your workshop my mind was swirling with ideas. Your reminder to continue to ask “What if ?” about every detail was a strong reminder to lose ingrained assumptions. The day was very stimulating and I can apply the same questioning to my work as a visual artist to enhance creativity.”Linda Williams, sculptress
Slowly lower the ass down on to the chair. Pick up the first ingredient and move it across the second ingredient, with quick strokes. Do this for ten full minutes and when you are fully ‘stirred’, continue for a half hour or till done.
After years of using this recipe, I decided I was getting in a rut. I needed to break out of my pattern of comedic timing. I needed to go deeper like I did in theatre. See, theatre is where I cut my teeth on writing. In theatre an idea can be developed, pondered; a punch line doesn’t need to be found for pages, or ever. I needed to go to Ireland.
