I was chatting with a former student recently about giving a guest lecture. As a new grad student, he was in the throes of preparing to give his first and was asking for advice (so exciting!).
My big overarching message to him:
Less is more.
For reals.
I see a whole lotta “more is more” out there in the world, and let me tell you, it really isn’t. More is often way too much. Crafting a good presentation isn’t an all you can eat buffet (which can be awesome!). It’s about helping people learn and engage, which is a different kind of value than being stuffed.
Your audience really needs “just enough” information to understand the big ideas or main skills that you are trying to engage them with. In a lecture or presentation especially, there is only so much information a person can take in. So while you might be super excited to share All The Things (“look at all those exciting WEEDS!”), your audience is often just trying to wrap their brains around what you’re even talking about. This is especially true if you are speaking across disciplines or industries, or to audiences that are newer to your topic.
How do you make sure you are giving “just enough” as part of designing a good presentation? Here are some ideas:
Focus on the change you hope will happen for your audience through your presentation. What do you hope they’ll take away? Where do you hope they’ll end up? Think high level, and keep it high – use descriptions, examples and details ONLY to highlight those higher level aims.
Build in pauses. If you are using PowerPoint, add a 5-10 second pause after each slide change to give people the chance to look before you start speaking again. Sometimes I literally write into my speaking notes “sip water here” so the audience has a moment to breathe and reflect on what I just said.
Use different types of strategies to engage your audience rather than just giving information, like a traditional lecture. Tell a story, ask them a question or two, discuss something visual (chart, image, whatever is relevant!). This will also slow you down.
Write your presentation to an approximate word count – this is especially useful if you are newer to presenting. How do you figure out the number of words? Set your timer for one minute, and start reading a page or two of text aloud at a nice, conversational pace (read: chill). When the timer goes off, count the number of words and write it down (highlight what you’ve read on your screen and use the “word count” feature to help you!). Repeat this several times with different text, and take the average of the word count totals. Then multiply your average “spoken words per minute” by the number of minutes you have to present to find the approximate word count for your presentation (so, if you speak approximately 150 per minute, and you have a 10 minute presentation, you should write a presentation that is approximately 1500 words).
Build your presentation for less time than you have been allotted. You’ve been told you have 45 minutes? Create a 40 minute lecture.
When you have a good draft, practice and time yourself. Edit accordingly.
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I get a lot of questions from folks considering leaving academia about what work will be like on The Other Side. The crux of what they seem to be asking is: “Will I continue to be independent? Will I have agency?”
When I was contemplating leaving, these were some of my biggest fears too.
Academia was actually the second stage of my career. I had worked as an independent artist and creative entrepreneur before turning to academia, so I had an inkling that my skills and contributions from that part of my life would likely be of use. But my sovereignty as a creative and a thinker was important to me, and imagining what work might be like on the outside left me worried that I would be constrained by the 9-5 life.
For some perspective, I was burning out in academia.
You’ve likely heard it before:
Very mixed past academic work experiences that were peppered with great colleagues, a good deal of meaningful research and teaching, and some truly exploitive and demoralizing experiences fueled by gaslighting that overtook the good stuff
Unsustainable and fluctuating income and employment (by the time I left I had landed a contract, part-time non-tenure track role, that I bolstered with additional research and writing contracts – these contracts followed a pandemic-induced 18-month period of unemployment after a dismaying postdoc)
And a professional future which looked even more bleak given the state of higher education at the time (which is now, in 2025, looking even worse), despite accolades, accomplishments, and very hard work over most of my professional career.
I won’t dwell on the decision-making other than to say that, practically speaking, I knew I had to leave.
Once I was resolved, I had to find my path out. I reflected not just on what I could do and where I could go, but what work would look likeand what that would mean for my life. In academia, I was used to having a fair amount of agency in terms of how I structured my days, my comings and goings, how I formulated my research and designed my teaching. Wouldn’t a “regular job” be confining? I’d just be doing someone else’s bidding, wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t it be… boring?
Now that I’m on The Other Side, I’ve found that the answer is “kinda,” but also “not really.” I also now reflect that academia wasn’t nearly as independent as I perceived.
Teaching/work schedules, funding body priorities, institutional values/priorities, organizational expectations about in-person or hybrid work, the particular contract shaping your role – these and more affect the kind of agency you as an individual worker have in your workplace. This is true in academia as much as it is outside.
At the time of writing this post, I have been working for my current employer for approximately 17 months – my provincial government in Canada. In my role, I have both some agency and also some limitations (as to be expected).
Sure, I work approximately 9-5, but I’ll emphasize the word “approximately.” I have the flexibility to start a little later or earlier depending on what’s going on in my life. As long as I’m putting in the time, attending all my meetings, available when my manager needs me, and getting the work done, my manager generally doesn’t hover. My employer requires that I be in the office three days a week, but I can choose which days I’m in or not. Plus, when my laptop shuts at the end of the day, I don’t touch it until morning.
Of course, not all workplaces on the outside are like this, but this has been my experience so far.
Is the work deeply meaningful and fulfilling all the time? Nope. Is it sometimes meaningful, do I work with excellent colleagues, have a steady income, and feel like I’m contributing to something decent in a way that is sustainable for my life? Very much so.
All of this to say, I am finding my way.
My current full-time job has offered me an important step to a more sustainable life. It’s opened up space in different ways: I worked with a therapist to help me process my grief and career transition, I’ve picked up hobbies, I workout 5 days a week, I have started a newsletter which is fueled by my program of research and teaching, specifically about building creative and humanity-centred lives and workplaces, and I’ve started to take on some writing and thought leadership strategy clients.
To return to my colleagues’ initial query, “Will I have agency?” My answer is Yes.
You’ve been invited to give a guest lecture/workshop/presentation (yay!) but the prospect causes you to break into sweats (ack!).
The good news is that people think highly of you and value your expertise – they have invited you to share your awesomeness! And the other good news is that you don’t have to cram all your knowledge into that 30/45/60-ish minute session to keep people engaged and help them learn stuff. You really don’t.
In this post, I’ll share a few things that I use in my own teaching and facilitation to help you think through how to design an awesome session, whether it’s a hands-on workshop, a guest lecture or a keynote presentation.
First, it’s helpful to think about these six things.
Your topic. This might seem obvious – yes, of course you’re going to do your session on a topic – but, someimes it can be deceptively hard to select. You can think about what your expertise is, and what the particular audience might learn from you.
Your audience. Of course, you can’t know for certain the exact people in your audience, but you can imagine them. You can think about age/generation, career status (e.g. early, mid, seasoned), field or profession, culture, geography, and your own alignments or differences with your audience, among other things. For example, I often work with people in healthcare – as an artist I need to think about potential differences in how we work, and some assumptions I might be making about terms or processes. Having a sense of who your audience is will help you make decisions about your session.
The form. Whether you are giving a keynote, workshop, guest lecture, on-line, in person, etc., thinking about the form can help you think about how you want to engage people in different ways (more below on strategies!). It’s helpful to pay attention to what people expect from the form (a keynote is different from a hands-on workshop, for example), but you can also use or disrupt expectations in different ways.
Change or transformation. As you think about the change you hope your audience will go through, consider where you anticipate your audience is starting from related to your topic, and where do you want them to end up? Your session becomes about that in-between part. How will you engage them so that they move through some kind of transformation, ending up in a different place?
Your session might be about building practical skills, or it might be about ideas and thinking differently, but thinking about a “starting place,” an “ending place,” and the change you hope will take place, still applies regardless.
Strategies: how will you get there? It can be useful to brainstorm a whole bunch of different ways to engage people – a lot more than you will actually use – as part of thinking through what might be strongest. The specific strategies you select depend on all the other different factors – your topic, the audience, the form, etc. As you think about strategies, you can continue to return to: what is the change you anticipate this particular audience might go through?
Time frame. Whatever the amount of time you have, try to plan for less. Give yourself a buffer. If you have 45 minutes, then plan for 40. It’s also useful to leave time at the end of your session for questions, or a wrap-up – and if you have more time than you anticipate, you can have a longer discussion, or even just end early (and everyone will love you!). Whatever you do, stay within your allotted time. For reals. I’ve included some strategies below for how you can design your session to help you stay on time.
And actually – I’ve developed a free, downloadable tip-sheet that covers these ideas and will help you design your session further. You can find it here.
Next, you’ll want to put these ideas into your session.
Now that you’ve started on these different aspects, you need to pull it all together. Below are some ideas about structure.
I think of this as a Sandwich.
Introduction: your first piece of bread, or the bottom of the bun. How are you going to introduce this topic to this particular audience? You can, of course, just state your topic and learning objectives at the start of your session. Depending on the audience, spelling it out can work really well. But you don’t have to do that.
Maybe you are doing a hands-on workshop, and your topic has to do with helping people become more aware of their own bodies and emotions while they are working. If your audience is dancers, you could start with a meditation and a physical warm up, and then, after these activities, articulate the aims of your workshop. But if you are working with physicians, you will probably want to introduce the same topic in a different way, maybe through a story, or by introducing yourself and your expertise. Your introduction should give your specific audience a sense of the topic, but also a sense of the kind of strategies you will be using throughout your session. It’s like a sample of what the rest of your sandwich will taste like.
Your content and strategies: the meat and veggies. These are the various selected strategies you will use to engage people with your topic, thinking about the change you hope your audience will go through.
I plan my sessions into chunks of time, and allot a different strategy for each chunk. For example, for 5 minutes I will share a story, for 7-8 minutes people will break into groups and share their own stories, then we will return to the larger group for 10-12 minutes – etc.
This “chunking” is useful for a couple of reasons.
You can clearly see whether your activities align with your aims. What are the actual strategies you plan to use, how much time have you allotted for each, and will these strategies help this audience move through change you are hoping for? Let’s return to the example of helping people become more aware of their bodies and emotions while working. If you notice that the strategies you’ve chosen only involve people talking, you will want to revise what you are doing to include activities where people are engaging and paying attention to their bodies (such as breathing exercises).
It can help you keep on time when you come to facilitate the session. If something goes awry during the session, and you find that you’re short 10 minutes (“the wrong room was booked, no one can find the key, oh they chaos!”), then you can easily look at the structure of your session and adapt quickly. It’s easier to pull out a section on the fly, and much easier to adapt in the moment, when you have planned your session into smaller chunks of time.
Whatever you do, remember that more is not necessarily better. Be sure to build in pauses, or breaks, so people have time and space to process.
Conclusion: the top of your bun. You can help people digest your metaphorical sandwich, including what the session has been about, or what their transformation has been. Hopefully, your audience will continue to process the material after they leave your session, and apply it out in the world. Through your conclusion, you can help them transition what they’ve learned.
As a few ideas, you could field some questions, or invite people to have discussions amongst themselves and then open it up to the larger group, or if you’re short on time, simply make a statement like: “We don’t have time for a discussion, but these are the things that I’m hoping that you will take away with you…”
Also, you can leave your contact information. This invites people to continue the connection after your session. It’s almost like continuing a conversation.
Be sure not to sell your conclusion short – sometimes that processing time can be just as important, if not more important, than the bulk of your session where you share information.
In case you missed it, here’s my free, downloadable tip sheet!
The way we think and talk about burnout needs to change.
As individuals we feel it. And we often think the solutions need to be individual too (more resilience training, anyone?). But it will take a cultural shift to really address burnout, and create sustainable workplaces that are integrated and even connected parts within our lives.
I have been reading ‘The End of Burnout’ by Jonathan Malesic. Part of what I am appreciating is how Malesic defines burnout as a disconnect between expectations of work (your own, or broader expectations of what you ‘should’ be getting out of working as your life’s purpose), and what the work is actually like. He says this disconnect can lead to feelings of cynicism, disengagement, and general uselessness and disconnection. He is a former academic, and left his job because of burnout.
But a big part of what Malesic emphasizes is how the solution for burnout is usually discussed as taking place within individuals.
Things like: how you need to reconnect with your passion for work, or the values of your work, or how you need to develop tools for resilience, or how you can practice self-care. And, please don’t get me wrong here: when done for your personhood, not because you will be more “productive,” self-care can be a political act. But what Malesic is saying is that this focus on individuals is mis-placed. The solution needs to be collective.
Burnout is a cultural problem.
Here’s an example.
One of my besties sent me a text. It reads: “I was commenting to a coworker this week “ok, so I’ve identified how I feel as burnout… now what? All the stuff I read is not helpful. I can’t just “cut back on work” and “carve out more quiet time”… I feel like I need to just not do anything for like a year!”
And then another: “I feel like I need something that’s “just a job” so I don’t care about it… but then how do I find the motivation to DO it for the majority of my waking life… ugh.”
My friend has identified 2 things.
Most burnout rhetoric is telling them they need to change themselves to avoid and navigate burnout. Stuff like saying no to certain things at work, or carving out more personal “me” time. But this isn’t helpful nor what they need. What my friend suggests is that they need a complete break in order to recalibrate. The current ways of doing things are just too much – they need a really, really long time away to even begin to feel balanced.
A possible solution could be getting “just a job” that they don’t care about. Something they can go to and be paid for, but don’t have much investment in. But this leaves them wondering how this will be sustainable in the long run, given work is where they spend the majority of their waking life. With the “just a job” scenario, it’s possible there would be no connection.
But here’s the crux of the issue: we are assuming the solution needs to be individual.
The problems are 1) the structures of work are not sustainable (granted my friend didn’t go into the details of what those structures are in their text), and all the suggested individual adaptations like carving out more “me time” or working to be resilient are not helpful, and 2) they seek some kind of meaning where they spend the greatest part of their day, even, or especially, if it’s not a grand life purpose.
An individual shouldn’t be changing their expectations around aspiring to have some kind of meaning or connection in their work, and to work in a sustainable way. It should not be a radical thought to aspire for dignity.
The problem is cultural, and so the solution needs to be collective.
We need to re-think the place and meaning of work in our lives, and then we need to build different structures to reflect those values.
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