PLANNING THE SPEECH

Selecting Material . It can be assumed, by the time you have reached this point in the study and practice of making speeches, that you have words to express your thoughts and some fair skill of delivery, that you know something about preparing various kinds of introductions and conclusions, that you know how your own mind operates in retaining new information, and that you know how to secure material for various purposes. Either clearly assimilated in your brain or accurately noted upon paper you have all the ideas that are to appear in your speech.

The Length of the Speech . Look over this material again. Consider it carefully in your thoughts, mentally deciding how long a time or how many words you will devote to each topic or entry. Can you from such a practical consideration determine how long in time your speech will be? Are you limited by requirements to a short time as were the Four Minute Speakers? Have you been allotted a half hour? Will you hold your audience longer?

These may appear simple things, but they cover the first essential of planning any speech. It should be just the correct length—neither too long nor too short. Many beginners—timid, hesitant, untrained—will frequently fill too short a time, so that they must drill themselves into planning longer productions. On the other hand, it may be stated, as a general criticism, that many speakers talk too long.

A United States Senator, in order to block the vote on a bill he was opposing, decided to speak until Congress had to adjourn, so he deliberately planned to cover a long time. He spoke for some twenty-two hours. Of course he did not say much, nor did he talk continuously; to get rests, he requested the clerk to call the roll, and while the list was being marked, he ate and drank enough to sustain him. Technically his speech was uninterrupted, for he still had the floor. Though we may not approve of such methods of legislative procedure we must see that for this speech the first element of its plan was its length.

Keep this consideration of time always in mind. Speakers always ask how long they are to speak, or they stipulate how much time they require. Legislative bodies frequently have limiting rules. Courts sometimes allow lawyers so much time. A minister must fit his sermon to the length of the service. A business man must not waste his hearers' time. A lecturer must not tire his audience. In Congress members must be given chances to eat. In Parliament, which meets in the evening, men grow anxious for bed.

Making the Speech too Long. The rule is fundamental, yet it is violated continually. I have known of instances when four men, asked to present material in a meeting announced months in advance as lasting two hours, have totally disregarded this fact, and prepared enough material to consume over an hour each. In such cases the presiding officer should state to each that he will be allowed exactly thirty minutes and no more. He may tap on the table after twenty-five have elapsed to warn the speaker to pass to his conclusion, and at the expiration of the time make him bring his remarks to a close and give way to the next speaker. There is no unfairness in this. The real offense is committed by the speaker who proves himself so inconsiderate, so discourteous of the conditions that he places himself in such an embarrassing circumstance. He deserves only justice tempered by no mercy. I have heard the first of two speakers who were to fill an hour of a commemorative service in a church talk on for an hour and ten minutes, boring the congregation to fidgety restlessness and completely preventing the second speaker—the more important—from delivering a single word.

Mark Twain tells how he went to church one hot night to hear a city mission worker describe his experiences among the poor people of the crowded districts who, though they needed help, were too modest or proud to ask for it. The speaker told of the suffering and bravery he found. Then he pointed out that the best gifts to charity are not the advertised bounties of the wealthy but the small donations of the less fortunate. His appeals worked Mark Twain up to great enthusiasm and generosity. He was ready to give all he had with him—four hundred dollars—and borrow more. The entire congregation wanted to offer all it had. But the missionary kept on talking. The audience began to notice the heat. It became hotter and hotter. They grew more and more un comfortable. Mark's generosity began to shrink. It dwindled to less and less as the speech lengthened until when the plate did finally reach him, he stole ten cents from it. He adds that this simply proves how a little thing like a long-winded speech can induce crime.

Plan your speech so that it will be the proper length.

Discarding Material . This first consideration very likely indicates to you that you have much more material than you can use in the time allowed or assigned you. You must discard some. Strange as it may seem, this is one of the must difficult directions to carry out. It seems such a waste of time and material to select for actual presentation so small a part of all you have carefully gathered. There is always the temptation to "get it all in somehow." Yet the direction must remain inflexible. You can use only part of it. You must carefully select what will serve your purpose. What is the purpose of your speech? What is the character of your audience? These two things will determine to a large extent, what and how much you must relinquish. Your finished speech will be all the better for the weeding-out process. Better still, in all your preliminary steps for subsequent speeches you will become skilful in selecting while you are gathering the material itself. Finally you will become so practised that you will not burden yourself with waste, although you will always secure enough to supply you with a reserve supply for assurance and emergency.

Relation of Material to the Purpose of the Speech . A few examples will show the wide application of this principle. A boy who has explained to his father the scholarship rules of his school concerning athletes will discard a great deal of that material when he addresses a student gathering. A speaker on child labor in a state where women have voted for a long time will discard much of the material presented in a neighboring state where general franchise has just been granted. If in a series of remarks you want to emphasize the thrilling experience you have had with a large fish which jerked you out of a boat, you would not include such material as the trip on the train to the lake where you had your adventure. Why not?

These are humble instances, but the principle of selection is the same for all speeches.

A man who was asked to lecture on Mark Twain knew the contents of the thirty published volumes written by him, all the biographies, practically every article written about him; he had conversed with people who had known him; he had visited scenes of his life; yet when he planned to talk for an hour he had to reject everything except two striking periods of his life with their effects upon his writing.

Burke, in one great effort, declared he had no intention of dealing with the right of taxation; he confined himself merely to the expediency of Great Britain's revenue laws for America. Other great speakers have—in their finished speeches—just as clearly indicated the plans they have decided to follow. Such definite announcements determine the material of many introductions.

Indicating the Plan in the Speech . In some finished and long speeches parts of the plan are distributed to mark the divisions in the progress of the development. The next quotation shows such an insertion.

Such a statement to the audience is especially helpful when the speaker is dealing with technical subjects, or material with which most people are not usually and widely conversant. Scientific considerations always become clearer when such plans are simply constructed, clearly announced, and plainly followed.

EXERCISES

1. According to what methods are the foregoing plans arranged? Which division in Sumner's speech was the most important? Was he trying to get his listeners to do anything? What do you think that object was?

2. In Lincoln's speech do you think he planned the material chronologically? Historically? What reasons have you for your answer?

3. Which of Webster's four parts is the most important? Give reasons for your answer.

4. Which hypothesis (what does the word mean?) did Huxley himself support? What induces you to think thus? Is this plan in any respect like Sumner's? Explain your answer.

5. Make a list of the ways in which material of speeches may be arranged.

Arrangement. Importance. If you have several topics to cover in a single speech where would you put the most important? First or last? Write upon a piece of paper the position you choose. You have given this plan some thought so you doubtlessly put down the correct position. What did you write? First? That is usually the answer of nine pupils out of every ten. Are you with the majority? If you wrote that the most important topic should be treated first, you are wrong. The speech would be badly planned. Think for a moment. Which should be the most important part of a story or a play? The beginning or the ending? If it is the early part, why should any one read on to the end or stay for the curtain to come down the last time? So in speeches the importance of topics should always increase as the speech proceeds. This, then, is a principle of planning. Arrange your topics in an ascending order of importance. Work up to what is called the climax.

The list you made in response to direction 5 given above should now be presented to the class and its contents discussed. What kind of material is likely to be arranged according to each of your principles? You have put down the chronological order, or the order of time, or some similar phrase. Just what do you mean by that? Do you mean, begin with the earliest material and follow in chronological order down to the latest? Could the reverse order ever be used? Can you cite some instance? Is contrast a good order to follow in planning? Cite material which could be so arranged. Would an arrangement from cause to effect be somewhat like one based on time? Explain your answer. Under what circumstances do you think the opposite might be used—from effect to cause?

While there are almost countless methods of arrangements—for any one used in one part of a speech may be combined with any other in some different portion—the plan should always be determined by three fundamental matters; the material itself, the audience to which it is to be presented, and the effect the speaker wants to produce.

Even during this preliminary planning of the speech the author must be careful that when his arrangement is decided upon it possesses the three qualities necessary to every good composition. These three are unity, coherence, and emphasis.

Unity. Unity explains itself. A speech must be about one single thing. A good speech produces one result. It induces action upon one single point. It allows no turning aside from its main theme. It does not stray from the straight and narrow road to pick flowers in the adjacent fields, no matter how enticing the temptation to loiter may be. In plain terms it does not admit as part of its material anything not closely and plainly connected with it. It does not step aside for everything that crops into the speaker's mind. It advances steadily, even when not rapidly. It does not "back water." It goes somewhere.

To preserve unity of impression a speaker must ruthlessly discard all material except that which is closely associated with his central intention. He must use only that which contributes to his purpose. The same temptation to keep unrelated material—if it be good in itself—will be felt now as when the other unsuitable material was set aside.

This does not prevent variety and relief. Illustrative and interesting minor sections may be, at times must be, introduced. But even by their vividness and attractiveness they must help the speech, not hinder it. The decorations and ornaments must never be allowed to detract from the utility of the composition.

Unity may be damaged by admitting parts not in the direct line of the theme. It may be violated by letting minor portions become too long. The illustration may grow so large by the introduction of needless details that it makes the listeners forget the point it was designed to enforce. Or it may be so far-fetched as to bear no real relation to the thread of development. Here lies the pitfall of the overworked "funny," story, introduced by "that reminds me." Too often it is not humorous enough to justify repetition; or—what is worse—it does not fit into the circumstances. Another fault of many speakers is over-elaboration of expression, not only for non-essentials, but in the important passages as well. Involved language demands explanation. The attempts to clear up what should have been simply said at first may lead a speaker to devote too many words to a single point.

This matter of unity must not be misunderstood as prohibiting the inclusion of more than one topic in a speech. A legislator in urging the repeal of a law might have several topics, such as how the law was passed, its first operations, its increasing burdens upon people, the disappearance of the necessity for it, better methods of securing the same or better results, etc., yet all grouped about the motivating theme of securing the repeal of the law. To emphasize the greatness of a man's career a speaker might introduce such topics as his obscure origin, his unmarked youth, the spur that stimulated his ambition, his early reverses, provided that they contribute to the impression intended, to make vivid his real achievements.

In early attempts at delivering speeches don't be afraid to pause at certain places to consider whether what you are about to say really contributes to the unity or destroys it. Aside from helping you to think upon your feet, this mental exercise will help your speech by making you pause at times—a feature of speaking often entirely disregarded by many persons.

Coherence. The second quality a finished composition should have is coherence. If you know what cohere and cohesion mean (perhaps you have met these words in science study) you have the germ of the term's meaning. It means "stick-together-itive-ness." The parts of a speech should be so interrelated that every part leads up to all that follows. Likewise every part develops naturally from all that goes before, as well as what immediately precedes. There must be a continuity running straight through the material from start to finish. Parts should be placed where they fit best. Each portion should be so placed—at least, in thought—that all before leads naturally and consistently up to it, and it carries on the thread to whatever follows. This prevents rude breaks in the development of thought. Skilfully done, it aids the hearer to remember, because so easily did the thought in the speech move from one point to another, that he can carry the line of its progression with him long after. So the attainment of coherence in a speech contributes directly to that desired end—a deep impression.

Incoherent speeches are so mainly because of absence of plan, whether they be short or long, conversational or formal.

Emphasis. The third quality a speech should have is emphasis. Applied to a connected sequence of words this means that what is of most importance shall stand out most forcefully; that what is not so important shall show its subordinate relation by its position, its connection with what goes before and after; that what is least important shall receive no emphasis beyond its just due. Such manipulation requires planning and rearranging, careful weighing of the relative importance of all portions. Recall what was said of the place of the most important part.

Throughout the speech there must also be variety of emphasis. It would not be fitting to have everything with a forceful emphasis upon it. To secure variation in emphasis you must remember that in speeches the best effects will be made upon audiences by offering them slight relief from too close attention or too impressive effects. If you observe the plans finally followed by good speakers you will be able to see that they have obeyed this suggestion. They have the power to do what is described as "swaying the audience." In its simplest form this depends upon varying the emphasis.

In making an appeal for funds for destitute portions of Europe a telling topic would surely be the sufferings of the needy. Would it be wise to dwell upon such horrors only? Would a humorous anecdote of the happy gratitude of a child for a cast-off toy be good to produce emphasis? Which would make the most emphatic ending—the absolute destitution, the amount to be supplied, the relief afforded, or the happiness to donors for sharing in such a worthy charity? You can see how a mere mental planning, or a shuffling of notes, or a temporary numbering of topics will help in clearing up this problem of how to secure proper and effective emphasis.

Making the First Plan. It would be a helpful thing at this point in the planning to make a pencil list of the topics to be included. This is not a final outline but a mere series of jottings to be changed, discarded, and replaced as the author considers his material and his speech. It is hardly more than an informal list, a scrap of paper. In working with it, don't be too careful of appearances. Erase, cross out, interline, write in margins, draw lines and arrows to carry portions from one place to another, crowd in at one place, remove from another, cut the paper sheets, paste in new parts, or pin slips together. Manipulate your material. Mold it to suit your purposes. Make it follow your plan. By this you will secure a good plan. If this seems a great deal to do, compare it with the time and energy required to learn how to swim, how to play a musical instrument, how to "shoot" in basketball, how to act a part in a play.

Knowing how to speak well is worth the effort. Every time you plan a speech these steps will merge into a continuous process while you are gathering the material. In informal discussion upon topics you are familiar with, you will become able to arrange a plan while you are rising to your feet.

Transitions . As this preliminary plan takes its form under your careful consideration of the material you will decide that there are places between topics or sections which will require bridging over in order to attain coherence and emphasis. These places of division should be filled by transitions. A transition is a passage which carries over the meaning from what precedes to what follows. It serves as a connecting link. It prevents the material from falling apart. It preserves the continuity of ideas. A transition may be as short as a single word, such as however , consequently , nevertheless . It may be a sentence. It may grow into a paragraph.

The purpose of transitions—to link parts together—may induce beginners to consider them as of little importance since they manifestly add no new ideas to the theme. This opinion is entirely erroneous. Even in material for reading, transitions are necessary. In material to be received through the ear they are the most valuable helps that can be supplied to have the listener follow the development. They mark the divisions for him. They show that a certain section is completed and a new one is about to begin. They show the relation in meaning of two portions.

The shorter forms of transitions—words and phrases—belong rather to the expression, the language, of the speech than to this preliminary planning.

A speaker should never fail to use such phrases as on the other hand , continuing the same line of reasoning , passing to the next point , from a different point of view , because they so clearly indicate the relation of two succeeding passages of a speech.

In planning, the speaker frequently has to consider the insertion of longer transitions—paragraphs or even more extended passages. Just how such links appear in finished speeches the following extracts show. In the first selection Washington when he planned his material realized he had reached a place where he could conclude. He wanted to add more. What reason should he offer his audience for violating the principle discussed in the chapter on conclusions? How could he make clear to them his desire to continue? We cannot assert that he actually did this, but he might have jotted down upon the paper bearing a first scheme of his remarks the phrase, "my solicitude for the people." That, then, was the germ of his transition paragraph. Notice how clearly the meaning is expressed. Could any hearer fail to comprehend? The transition also announces plainly the topic of the rest of the speech.

The next selection answers to a part of the plan announced in a passage already quoted in this chapter. Notice how this transition looks both backward and forward: it is both retrospective and anticipatory. If you recall that repetition helps to emphasize facts, you will readily understand why a transition is especially valuable if it adheres to the same language as the first statement of the plan. In a written scheme this might have appeared under the entry, "pass from 1 to 2; list 4 apologies for crime." This suggests fully the material of the passage.

The beginning speaker should not hesitate to make his transitions perfectly clear to his audience. When they add to the merely bridging use the additional value of serving as short summaries of what has gone before and as sign posts of what is to follow, they are trebly serviceable. The attempt to be clear will seldom be waste of time or effort. The obvious statements of the preceding selections, the use of figures, are excellent models for speakers to imitate. With practice will come skill in making transitions of different kinds, in which the same purposes will be served in various other ways, in what may be considered more finished style. The next extracts represent this kind of transition.

Thinking before You Speak. While students may feel that the steps outlined here demand a great deal of preparation before the final speech is delivered, the explanation may be given that after all, this careful preparation merely carries out the homely adage—think before you speak. If there were more thinking there would be at once better speaking. Anybody can talk. The purpose of studying is to make one a better speaker. The anticipation of some relief may be entertained, for it is comforting to know that after one has followed the processes here explained, they move more rapidly, so that after a time they may become almost simultaneous up to the completion of the one just discussed—planning the speech. It is also worth knowing that none of this preliminary work is actually lost. Nor is it unseen. It appears in the speech itself. The reward for all its apparent slowness and exacting deliberation is in the clearness, the significance of the speech, its reception by the audience, its effect upon them, and the knowledge by the speaker himself that his efforts are producing results in his accomplishments.

All speakers plan carefully for speeches long in advance.

A famous alumnus of Yale was invited to attend a banquet of Harvard graduates. Warned that he must "speak for his dinner" he prepared more than a dozen possible beginnings not knowing of course, in what manner the toastmaster would call upon him. The remainder of his speech was as carefully planned, although not with so many possible choices. Note that from each possible opening to the body of the speech he had to evolve a graceful transition.

Edmund Burke, in his great speech on conciliation with the American colonies, related that some time before, a friend had urged him to speak upon this matter, but he had hesitated. True, he had gone so far as to throw "my thoughts into a sort of parliamentary form"—that is, he made a plan or an outline, but the passage of a certain bill by the House of Commons seemed to have taken away forever the chance of his using the material. The bill, however, was returned from the House of Lords with an amendment and in the resulting debate he delivered the speech he had already planned.

Daniel Webster said that his reply to Hayne had been lying in his desk for months already planned, merely waiting the opportunity or need for its delivery.

Henry Ward Beecher, whose need for preliminary preparation was reduced to its lowest terms, and who himself was almost an instantaneous extemporizer, recognized the need for careful planning by young speakers and warned them against "the temptation to slovenliness in workmanship, to careless and inaccurate statement, to repetition, to violation of good taste."

Slovenliness in planning is as bad as slovenliness in expression.

EXERCISES

Choose any topic suggested in this book. Make a short preliminary plan of a speech upon it. Present it to the class. Consider it from the following requirements:

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