On public speaking, nerves, and how to deal with them

including One Weird Trick from Queen Victoria

I had an anxiety dream the other night. I was in a dressing room at a theatre. I could hear the pre-show music, and the audience taking their seats. A loudspeaker said, ‘Lucy Worsley, come to the stage.’

The thing was, I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to be saying.

That’s my subconscious saying: ‘it’s nearly time to freak out go on tour again!’

From March, I’ll be out and about all over the country, joining in the celebrations for Jane Austen’s 250^th birthday this year, with a special talk about her life, and an ‘ask me anything’ Q+A. Hopefully, I’ll be coming to your town.

My whole career, which began as a historic house tour guide, has basically involved my favourite activity of talking to people about history. One of my first-ever formal talks, with people sitting down, was at Chesterfield Working Men’s Club. It went okay. I treasured one particular piece of feedback: ‘Well done. Speaker had a dull subject, but made it quite interesting.’

From bookshop to church to local library, I’ve been to all the venues, in all the weathers, and sometimes when feeling under the weather myself. The history show must go on!

Another bit of feedback I’ll never forget: ‘I’d like to complain. Dr Worsley’s lecture contained too much sodomy.’

I usually help myself out a bit by showing pictures. On one occasion, I was addressing a fancy gentleman’s club in St James’s. ‘You are our first ever female speaker,’ the club secretary told me, ‘and you’re also the first ever to use PowerPoint.’

On one terrible occasion, I took the wrong version of the PowerPoint presentation, and after the pictures ran out half-way through I had to extemporise. (I hate that. I’m a control freak. I have never not done my homework.)

On another memorable occasion, I was speaking to a full house at the Royal Albert Hall. Among my slides, I had a comedic picture of myself dressed as Queen Elizabeth II. Trouble was, for security reasons, no one had warned me that Her Majesty herself would be present.

I’m relieved to say that at the key moment she was called elsewhere to cut a cake.

Despite having given so many talks, though, I feel nervous every single time. And it’s got worse as the venues have got bigger.

I deal with this by the helpful tool of denial.

I don’t even like to say I’m going on a ‘tour,’ though to be fair that’s how most people would describe ten talks in ten different venues. In my head, a ‘tour’ is something Taylor Swift does, not me. Though, to be fair, we do have in common a love of sequins.

Sometimes I come across thespian folk, who find out what I’m up to and say: ‘Wow! So on this tour of yours, you’re giving a one-person show that lasts 110 minutes to maybe 1500 people?’

I reply, ‘Nope! Just giving a li’l ole history talk.’

The really nervous-making part, though, is the Q+A, when I can find myself explaining anything from Jane Austen’s use of free indirect speech to her rude jokes.*

Once, the issue of Jane Austen’s eyesight came up. I wanted to explain that we know exactly how short-sighted she was, because the British Library own a pair of her glasses. I tried to say that the Library had tested the strength of the spectacles. Unfortunately, what left my lips was that the Library had ‘spected the strength of her testicles.’ Ouch.

But I think it’s worth the pain because I love the challenge of trying to get other people to love Jane Austen as much as I do. I hope you might be willing to let me have a go. Here’s the link to join me!

And I can always fall back on a very useful way of dealing with nerves that I owe to none other than Queen Victoria.

Her motto for public speaking was:

‘The important thing is not what they think of me. It’s what I think of them.’

*I’m afraid I can’t share them in this family newsletter. Too much sodomy.