Alright, so… I used to think “speech preparation” was this grand, formal thing. Like, you had to light a candle, put on a crisp shirt, stare at your blank page, and wait for brilliance to smack you in the face. Spoiler: it doesn’t. You just get sweaty and annoyed.
The first time I had to do it fast—like, one day fast—I panicked. I googled “how to prepare a speech fast” and ended up with fifteen contradictory lists. One said memorize everything. Another said never memorize. And someone on YouTube told me to “just be myself,” which… thanks, Karen, very helpful.
What I figured out the hard way is you don’t need to overcomplicate it. You start with two questions: who am I talking to and why am I even talking? That’s it. Audience → goal. Once you nail that, you can slap together a throughline (fancy word for “main point”), rough outline, write it like you’re texting a friend, then run it out loud until it stops sounding like garbage.
I mean, yeah, there’s more—timing, delivery, breathing so you don’t pass out—but if you’re freaking out about a 5-minute speech, this is the backbone. And you can actually do it in one day… if you stop doomscrolling and start talking.
2) Know Your Audience & Goal (Start Here)
Okay, so… “Know your audience” sounds like one of those phrases that gets thrown around in every boring public speaking workshop, right? But I learned the hard way that if you skip it, your speech can tank before you even open your mouth.
Back in college, I gave this “inspirational” talk about chasing your dreams to a group of… accountants. Actual working accountants. I thought I was killing it with all my travel stories and quotes from random authors, but halfway through, I saw one guy checking his watch, and another one was Googling “tax deadline extensions.” Yeah. Brutal.
Thing is, you can’t talk to “people” — you’ve gotta talk to these people. The ones sitting right there in front of you, with their own weird mix of boredom, curiosity, stress, and coffee breath. And to do that, you need to know some basic stuff before you even scribble your first line.
Here’s my messy little checklist now (you can steal it):
- What do they need? Not what you think they need — what’s actually keeping them up at night.
- What’s the context? Is this a casual workshop? A tense board meeting? A graduation?
- What’s off-limits? Time limits, sensitive topics, that one running joke you think is funny but will get you in trouble.
- One single takeaway. If they remember nothing else, what’s the one thought you want rattling around in their heads on the bus ride home?
And defining your purpose… that’s another sneaky trap. Most people (me included, once) start with “I want to sound smart” or “I just don’t want to embarrass myself.” That’s not a purpose. That’s survival mode. Your purpose is basically: I want them to understand X so that Y happens. Like, “I want them to see public speaking as a skill they can learn so they stop avoiding it.”
Now, every time I prep, I literally write that sentence at the top of my notes. Because if you don’t lock that down, you’ll drift, ramble, and by the end you’re talking about something totally unrelated — like the time your neighbor’s cat got stuck in a tree.
Anyway… before you obsess over your opening line or whether you should wear that navy blazer, figure out who’s out there and what you want them to walk away with. Everything else is just noise.
3) Choose a Throughline + Thesis (Your Core Idea)
You know how sometimes you start writing a speech and halfway through you’re like… wait, what am I even talking about anymore? Yeah. Been there. I once wrote this 8-minute “motivational” thing for a college event, and by minute four I was basically reading random sentences that sounded smart in my head the night before but had no connection to each other. People clapped out of pity. I could feel it. And that’s when I learned—painfully—that you need one single thing that ties it all together.
That “thing” is what folks in public speaking call a throughline. Think of it like a clothesline and every point, story, or joke is just… laundry hanging on it. If there’s no line, your stuff’s just in a messy pile on the floor.
For me, the easiest way to lock it in is to literally write one sentence using this formula: “I’m talking about [X] because [Y], so that [Z].” Example: I’m talking about failure because everyone’s terrified of it, so that they can stop letting it control them. That’s it. That’s your GPS for the whole speech.
TED talks? Every single one has a throughline. They guard it like it’s gold. If a sentence doesn’t serve it, they cut it. No mercy. Which is brutal, but it works.
Anyway, once you’ve got that central idea, everything else—your opening story, your stats, your big ending—gets way easier. It’s not “what should I say next?” anymore. It’s “how do I make sure this thing I’m saying pulls my audience closer to that one core point I promised them?” And honestly, it feels so much better standing up there knowing you’re not just winging it and praying no one notices.
4) Build a Simple Speech Structure (Templates)
I used to think “speech structure” was just fancy speaker talk for “make a list of points and wing it.” Spoiler: it’s not. The day I tried to “wing it” at a community event, I ended up rambling about three unrelated topics, forgot my ending, and muttered “uh… that’s all” into the mic. Painful. People were polite, but I could see the relief on their faces when I sat down.
The truth is, the best speeches — whether they’re TED-level or just in your office boardroom — follow a simple structure that keeps both you and your audience from getting lost. And no, it’s not complicated. Think of it like building a sandwich: intro on top, juicy stuff in the middle, wrap it up at the end.
Why You Need a Speech Outline Template
If you Google “speech outline template” you’ll get pages of diagrams, but most of them are either way too academic or too vague. The one I use (and give to clients) is ridiculously simple — and works whether you’re doing a wedding toast or a keynote.
Your outline isn’t a script. It’s a roadmap. It tells you where to start, where the key turns are, and how to land without skidding off the road.
Step-by-Step: How to Outline a Speech
Here’s a speech structure you can stick on a sticky note:
1. Introduction (about 10–15% of your time)
- Attention Getter – This is your opening hook. A surprising fact, a quick story, or even a question. Example: “Do you remember the first time you froze in front of a crowd?”
- Relevance – Tell them why they should care. Make it personal to them.
- Credibility – Briefly establish why you’re the one to talk about this. No need to list your resume — one sentence is fine.
- Thesis Statement – Boil your speech down to one clear sentence.
- Preview – Give them a quick “menu” of what’s coming.
2. Body (about 70–80% of your time)
Pick 2–3 main points. More than that and people start checking their phones. For each point:
- State the point in one sentence.
- Back it up with a story, example, or stat.
- Connect it back to your thesis.
Use transitions between points so you’re not jolting your audience like a bad driver hitting the brakes. Phrases like:
- “That brings me to…”
- “Another reason this matters is…”
3. Conclusion (about 10–15% of your time)
- Recap your main points in fresh words (don’t just repeat them).
- End with a call to action — tell them exactly what you want them to do, think, or feel next.
- Leave them with something memorable — a final quote, a challenge, or a short visual image.
Example: Quick Speech Outline PDF
If I were talking about “Why Students Should Learn Public Speaking,” my outline might look like this:
Intro:
- Hook: “Your voice is your career’s most valuable skill — yet most people never train it.”
- Relevance: Most jobs require clear communication.
- Credibility: I’ve trained 300+ students in public speaking.
- Thesis: Public speaking isn’t optional; it’s a skill that changes lives.
- Preview: 1) Confidence, 2) Opportunities, 3) Influence.
Body:
- Confidence – Story of a shy student who became a debate winner.
- Opportunities – Stats on promotion rates for good communicators.
- Influence – Example of a speech that sparked community change.
Conclusion:
- Recap points.
- CTA: Challenge audience to speak at the next open mic night.
- Final line: “Your words can open doors — if you’re willing to say them.”
(Alt text for downloadable PDF: “Speech outline template with intro, body, conclusion structure.”)
Why This Works
This isn’t about cramming in fancy words or sounding like a politician. It’s about making sure your ideas have a logical flow so your audience stays with you from start to finish. You can download the [Speech Outline PDF Template] (internal link suggestion: /speech-outline-template) and keep it for every future talk.
For a deeper dive into crafting great openings, check out our [Attention Getter Examples for Speeches] (internal link). And if you want to geek out on structure theory, Toastmasters has excellent resources.
5) Write the First Draft Fast
You’ve got the idea, the structure’s sketched out… now you just have to actually write the thing. This is where a lot of people freeze. I’ve done it too—sitting there staring at a blinking cursor, sipping coffee that’s already gone cold, convincing myself I need “just five more minutes” to think before I start typing. Spoiler: the perfect speech doesn’t magically appear in your head. You have to get the messy first draft out first. Fast.
Start With the Hook — Don’t Overthink It
If you Google “how to write a speech,” you’ll see a lot of people obsess over the introduction. And yeah, a strong start matters—those first 10–20 seconds decide whether your audience leans in or zones out. But you don’t need to write the perfect hook right away. Just drop in a working opener. Something that grabs people.
Examples of hooks for speeches:
- A surprising stat (“You’re going to spend 7 years of your life waiting in lines.”)
- A personal moment (“I nearly quit the night before my big promotion.”)
- A question (“When’s the last time you did something for the first time?”)
Write it quick. Don’t polish. You can tweak the exact wording later—right now your goal is to give the audience a reason to keep listening.
Follow It With a Story — Real, Relatable, and Specific
A story is the bridge between the hook and your main point. Think small. People remember the time you tripped walking onstage more than your perfectly worded quote from Einstein.
If you’re writing a 5-minute speech, one strong, clear story can carry the whole middle. Set the scene—let people smell the burnt toast or hear the squeak of the mic. Real details pull people in faster than abstract ideas. And you don’t have to make it epic; even a two-minute personal anecdote works if it connects to your thesis.
Land on the Insight — Your “Point” in Plain English
Here’s the test: If you bump into someone in the hallway after your talk and they say, “So… what was that about?” you should be able to answer in one sentence. That’s your insight.
Don’t hide it under layers of clever phrases. Say it like you would to one person you care about—your younger sibling, your best friend, your team lead. This “speak-to-one” principle forces clarity. If you wouldn’t say it to them that way, it’s probably too vague or too dressed up.
The Hook–Story–Insight Loop in Practice
- Hook: Grab attention (stat, question, moment).
- Story: Show, don’t tell. Use real-life detail.
- Insight: Deliver the point in clear, human language.
That’s it. One loop = one idea. Stack loops if you have multiple points, but don’t cram too much into one.
Why Speed Matters in Your First Draft
When you write fast, you don’t give the inner critic time to derail you. The goal isn’t pretty sentences; it’s to get all the raw material on the page. Editing is where you make it smooth.
Pro tip: Once you finish this draft, read it out loud immediately. Your ears catch what your eyes miss. Bonus—you’ll already be starting your rehearsal.
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- How to Overcome Stage Fright
- Speech Outline Template
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6) Make It Memorable (Stories, Rhetoric, Sound-bites)
If you’ve ever walked out of a speech thinking, “That was nice… but I can’t remember a single thing they said,” then you already know the problem. Forgettable talks fade fast. Memorable speeches? They follow you home, creep into your head later, and sometimes even change what you do next.
So, how do you make your speech one people keep quoting? It’s not about cramming in big words or trying to sound like a TED speaker. It’s about building in hooks the brain can’t let go of.
Use Story Beats That Hit Emotion First
People remember feelings before facts. The fastest way to lodge your message in their memory? Tell a story. Not a vague “Once upon a time…” kind of thing, but a moment—the smell of rain on asphalt, the way your hands shook when you signed that paper, the laughter from the back row when you dropped the mic (literally).
A simple three-beat structure works:
- Set-up – Who, where, when.
- Tension – The problem, obstacle, or question.
- Resolution – How it ended, and what it means.
That’s enough to keep them leaning in.
Rhetorical Devices That Work in Real Life
You’ve heard them before, maybe without realizing:
- Repetition – MLK’s “I have a dream” wasn’t an accident. Repeating a key phrase makes it stick like glue.
- Contrast – “We can have excuses, or we can have results.” Opposites sharpen the point.
- Rule of Three – “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” Three feels complete. Two feels rushed. Four feels like a lecture.
You don’t need to use them all at once. Sprinkle them in like seasoning, not like you dumped the whole salt shaker.
Craft Sound-bites on Purpose
A sound-bite is just a short, punchy line people can repeat without messing it up. If your speech had to be shrunk to one tweet, what would it say? Write it. Then tweak it until it’s sharp enough to cut paper.
Pro tip: say it out loud. If you stumble or run out of breath, it’s too long.
Keep It Clean, Then Cut It Tighter
Once you’ve got your stories, rhetorical flourishes, and one or two killer sound-bites, read your speech like you’ve only got 5 minutes to live. Cut anything that doesn’t push your main idea forward. Yes, even that clever joke you love.
Because memorable speeches aren’t about more. They’re about the right moments.
Internal link suggestions:
- How to Write a Speech Outline That Works Every Time
- Overcoming Stage Fright Before a Big Presentation
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Image alt text idea: Speaker using hand gestures while delivering a memorable speech with audience engaged
7) Edit for Clarity & Timing (2–5–10 min examples)
You know what kills a good speech faster than bad jokes? Rambling.
Not “I forgot my place” rambling — I’m talking about the I never timed this thing and now I’m panicking halfway through because I’m still on point one kind. I’ve done it. My voice got faster, my palms got sweaty, and I basically turned my conclusion into a one-sentence apology.
Here’s the thing: clarity and timing aren’t just about cutting words — they’re about making sure every single word earns its spot.
The Sweet Spot: Words Per Minute
Most people speak at around 125–150 words per minute when they’re not rushing or dragging.
So, if you’re wondering how many words for a 5 minute speech, here’s your ballpark:
- 2 minutes: ~250–300 words
- 5 minutes: ~625–750 words
- 10 minutes: ~1,250–1,500 words
And yes, this includes your dramatic pauses. (Those count. Your audience is still listening when you’re silent.)
How to Trim Without Losing Your Point
- Read it out loud — not in your head. Your brain reads faster than your mouth.
- Highlight filler words like “basically,” “you know,” “in order to” — they’re verbal packing peanuts.
- Cut side roads — if it doesn’t lead back to your main point, save it for another speech.
When I cut a speech down, I pretend I’m paying \$10 for every word. Suddenly, “in the event that” becomes “if.”
Mini Scripts for 2, 5, and 10 Minutes
2 minutes: Pick one story or example, one key takeaway, one call-to-action. That’s it.
5 minutes: Two to three main points, each with a quick example or stat, plus an opener and a close.
10 minutes: Three to four main points with more breathing room for stories, audience interaction, or Q\&A.
Think of it like packing a bag: short speech = carry-on, long speech = checked luggage. Don’t try to cram your whole closet into a backpack.
Keep the Flow
Once you’ve cut the fluff, read it out loud again. Does it sound natural? Do your transitions make sense, or are they jarring? Editing for clarity means your audience doesn’t have to work hard to follow you.
If you want, you can check out my guide on how to write a click-worthy speech introduction and maybe peek at Toastmasters’ timing tips for more pacing ideas.
Image alt text suggestion:
“Speaker rehearsing a 5-minute speech with a stopwatch and printed notes”
8) Practice Like a Pro (Rehearsal Plan & Tools)
So, you’ve got your speech written. The ideas are solid. The words sound great on paper. But here’s the thing—what looks perfect in a Google Doc can fall apart when you open your mouth. That’s why the real magic happens before you step on stage, in the quiet, slightly awkward world of rehearsal.
Start With Timed Run-Throughs
Don’t just “read it a couple of times” and call it a day. That’s like stretching once before running a marathon.
Grab your phone’s stopwatch and time yourself from the first word to the last. Most people speak at about 125–150 words per minute—but nerves will mess with that. Sometimes you speed up like you’re being chased; sometimes you slow down and forget where you’re going. Both are fine in practice, but you need to know your natural pace.
Pro tip: Do at least three full run-throughs in a row. The first feels clunky, the second feels smoother, and by the third, you’ll notice where your energy dips.
Record & Review (Yes, You’ll Cringe)
I get it—hearing your own voice recorded feels like listening to an embarrassing voicemail you left in 2007. But trust me, record yourself speaking. You’ll catch habits you didn’t know you had—like saying “umm” every five seconds, or turning away from the mic without realizing it.
Play the video back once for delivery, once for pacing, and once for clarity. If you can’t stand to watch it three times, break it up over a day.
Get Honest Feedback (From Humans, Not Just Your Mirror)
Practicing in front of a mirror is fine… until you start rehearsing for yourself instead of the audience. Grab a friend, coworker, or even your neighbor (yes, even the one who always borrows sugar) and ask them for two things:
- What was most memorable?
- What could be cut?
People remember the stuff that lands. If your “funny” story gets blank stares, it might be worth trimming.
Walk the Room Before You Speak
If you can, visit the space where you’ll be speaking.
- Stand where the mic will be.
- Walk around and check sight lines.
- Clap once—yep, just to hear the echo.
Knowing the room means fewer surprises on speech day. No one likes discovering mid-sentence that the projector blocks half the audience’s view.
Quick Teleprompter Tips for Beginners
If you’re using a teleprompter app (there are tons of free ones), write in short, punchy lines so your eyes don’t wander. Keep font size big enough that you’re not squinting. And please—don’t read it like you’re auditioning for the evening news. Glance, grab the next line, then look back up.
Practice Public Speaking at Your Home
Honestly? Your living room is a perfect stage. You can rehearse barefoot, your dog can be your first heckler, and you can pause to grab a snack mid-run. But keep it structured:
- Warm up your voice (yes, out loud—your neighbors will survive).
- Do a full timed run-through.
- Record and watch it back.
- End with one more run-through focusing on your weakest part.
If you nail this rehearsal process, you won’t just know your speech—you’ll feel it in your bones. And on the day, when the lights hit your face and your heart’s doing that weird race-walk thing, you’ll be glad you put the work in here.
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- How to Overcome Stage Fright
- How to Write a Speech That Holds Attention
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- “Person practicing public speaking at home with a teleprompter app”
- “Speaker rehearsing a timed speech with stopwatch and notes”
9) Delivery: Voice, Body Language, Pauses
I used to think “delivery” in public speaking was just… saying the words out loud. Like, I wrote it, I memorized it, I said it. Done. But then I watched a recording of myself from this work presentation back in 2017 and—oh my god—I looked like a cardboard cutout. Arms glued to my sides, voice flat, eyes darting like I was reading a suspicious contract. I wasn’t nervous in my head, but on camera? I looked terrified.
So yeah. Delivery matters. Way more than I wanted to admit.
Voice first. People say “project your voice” like it’s some magical switch. It’s not. It’s more like… pretend the person in the back of the room is a little hard of hearing and you really want them to get the joke you’re telling. Don’t shout, but push from your chest, not your throat. I learned this after one talk where my throat was sore for two days—turns out I was yelling like a football coach.
Body language? It’s weird because you think you’re moving a lot but you’re probably not. Or you’re moving too much. I used to sway side to side like a dad at a barbecue. Now I try to move on purpose. Take a step when you switch topics. Gesture when you’re making a point. Keep your palms open (closed fists make you look like you’re about to announce a boxing match).
And pauses… oh man. I was terrified of them at first. Silence felt like failure. Like people would start checking their phones if I wasn’t talking. But then I saw someone on stage just… stop. Not for a breath. For a whole three seconds. And the room leaned in. I started trying it—especially right after something important. It feels risky, but it works. Plus, it gives your brain a second to remember what’s next.
The best advice I ever got? Treat it like a conversation. Not a monologue. I mean, obviously you’re the only one talking, but if you imagine you’re just telling a story to one specific person—like your friend who laughs at all your dumb jokes—you’ll relax. You’ll stop thinking about your hands. You’ll stop worrying about whether your voice is “big” enough. You’ll just… talk.
Anyway. That’s what I try to remember now. Voice from the chest. Move with a reason. Pause like it’s a weapon. And for the love of all that is holy, no more swaying like I’m on a boat.
10) Handling Nerves & Stage Fright
I still remember the first time I had to give a “big” speech. Not a classroom thing where your friends are half-asleep, but an actual stage, lights in my face, mic that made my voice sound like it belonged to a stranger. My hands were shaking so much I couldn’t read my own notes. And the worst part? My brain decided to list every single possible way I could embarrass myself—tripping, forgetting my name, maybe throwing up on the front row.
People like to say just be confident. Yeah, thanks Karen, I’ll try that next time I’m drowning in speech anxiety.
Anyway, I’ve learned a few tricks since then. The first one? Stop trying to make the nerves go away. You can’t. They’re part of the package. Your body thinks you’re about to fight a bear, so it dumps all this adrenaline into your bloodstream. Fine. Let it. The goal isn’t to kill the feeling—it’s to steer it so it works for you instead of against you.
Breathing helps. Not the shallow “okay I’m breathing” kind. I mean the slow-in-through-the-nose, hold-for-four, out-through-the-mouth-like-you’re-cooling-hot-tea kind. Three rounds of that and you’re tricking your body into thinking, “Oh. Maybe we’re not dying.”
Visualization’s another weird one. I used to picture myself nailing every line, audience nodding like I was saying the smartest stuff in the world. Now I imagine the moment after—me stepping off stage, sweaty but alive, grabbing a glass of water thinking, Well, that wasn’t so bad.
And yeah, focus on them, not you. The audience isn’t there to judge your outfit or count how many times you say “um.” They’re hoping you give them something useful, funny, interesting—whatever your promise was. When you put all your attention on the value you’re giving instead of the voice in your head screaming run, something shifts.
I’m not saying you’ll magically overcome stage fear in one go. But the next time you feel that shaky, heart-thumping mess right before walking up, remember—it’s just your body giving you free energy. Use it. And when it’s over? You’ll realize the bear you thought you were fighting was just a room full of people who wanted you to win.
11) Slides & Props (Only If They Help)
I used to think slides were… mandatory. Like, you weren’t really giving a proper speech unless you had a PowerPoint clicking along behind you with a tasteful fade-in. Then I watched a guy do a ten-minute talk with thirty-eight slides. Thirty-eight. For ten minutes. It felt like being chased by a slideshow monster.
Now I’m a lot pickier about visual aids in public speaking. Honestly, most of the time you don’t need them. If your story’s strong, people want you, not some Canva template with “Key Takeaway” in bold at the top. But… if you do use slides, make them do a job. Show an image you can’t describe without boring everyone. A chart that actually clarifies something. A prop that makes people lean forward because they weren’t expecting it.
Also—simple slide design rules, please. No full sentences. No rainbow gradients from 2004. One idea per slide. If it looks like something your high school history teacher printed out in Comic Sans, delete it.
Oh, and the “how many slides for 10 minutes” thing? Idk, but I keep it under six. That’s enough to break things up without turning your speech into a race. And if you’re using props—test them. Nothing more awkward than holding up your “amazing visual example” only to have it fall apart in your hands. Been there. Dropped half a model volcano in front of forty people once. They still remember.
So yeah. Slides and props aren’t evil. They’re just… tools. Like seasoning. A pinch can make the whole thing better. Dump the whole jar and you’ve ruined dinner.
12) Venue & Logistics Checklist
You ever show up for a speech thinking, yeah, I’ll just walk in, grab the mic, do my thing… and then realize the mic is dead, the stage is sticky (why??), and the only way to get up there is this weird side staircase you didn’t know existed? Yeah. That’s why you do a speech day checklist.
I’ve messed this up before. Didn’t check the stage once and spent the first thirty seconds of my talk squinting into a light so bright I couldn’t see anyone. Felt like yelling into space. So now—first thing—I walk the room. Literally. From the back, up the aisles, onto the stage. See where you’ll stand. Figure out where the entrances are, because nothing feels weirder than awkwardly climbing up from the wrong side.
Mic check? Don’t just say “test one-two.” Actually say a few lines from your speech so you hear how you actually sound. Some mics make you sound like you’re underwater. Others pick up every nervous breath.
And timing—ugh. Know exactly when you’re supposed to start, and how much time you’ve got. Speakers before you might run long, or someone might tell you to shave two minutes last second. Have a version you can stretch and one you can cut without panicking.
Oh, and backup notes. On paper. In your pocket. Even if you think you won’t need them. Trust me—phones die, tablets crash, and sweaty hands + index cards = disaster. But it’s still better than going blank in front of two hundred people while your brain plays elevator music.
13) 2025 Toolkit: AI & Apps for Faster Prep
- You know how in 2012 you’d sit there with a pen and some crumpled paper trying to figure out your “big speech” and it would take, like, three weeks just to come up with an opening line? Yeah, well… 2025 is different. Now you’ve got AI tools for speech writing that can spit out an outline faster than you can open a bag of chips. But that’s both good and dangerous, because if you let it, the tech will just hand you something that sounds like… well… a robot who read too many corporate emails.
- So I use them like assistants, not bosses. For drafting, I’ve messed around with a couple AI note-dump tools—basically, I talk out loud, it writes it down, organizes it, and throws in some structure. Then I rip it apart. Because my brain still needs to be the filter.
- For checking the flow, there are these outline checker apps (Speechflow’s one, but there are others) that tell you when you’re rambling or when your “point” actually sounds like three points in a trench coat. They’re brutally honest in that quiet, algorithm-y way.
- And practice? Oh, that’s where it gets weirdly fun. The best teleprompter app 2025—at least for me—is the one that lets you scroll text with your voice speed, not a fixed pace. Saves you from that awkward half-second pause when the words are still coming down the screen and you’re just… standing there, smiling like a malfunctioning animatronic.
- Then there’s the record-and-transcribe thing. I hated it at first. You hear your voice, you see every “uh” written out in black and white, and it’s like, great, now I sound like an anxious raccoon giving a TED Talk. But it’s addictive once you start fixing those little speech tics.
- I keep a practice timer app open too. Not fancy—just a big red clock counting down. Nothing snaps you into focus like realizing your “quick story” is already six minutes and you’ve got five more slides to go.
- So yeah, AI and apps make prep faster. But they don’t make it effortless. You still have to show up, sweat through the awkward runs, and decide what you actually want to say. The tech just… clears the table so you can cook.
14) Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)
Alright, let’s just talk. No fancy “presenter voice,” no pretending I’m some untouchable public speaking guru. Just me, remembering all the awkward, sweaty-palmed speeches I’ve given and the dumb mistakes I’ve made, so maybe you don’t have to.
How do I start a speech confidently?
Honestly? You fake it until your body catches up. I used to walk on stage thinking everyone could see my knees shaking under my trousers. Turns out, no one’s looking at your knees. What helps me is having my first line burned into my brain. Like muscle memory. I’ve muttered it to myself in bathroom stalls, while waiting for my name to be called, once even while holding a plate of cold lasagna backstage. Start with something you know by heart, plant your feet, breathe out slow… and then just go.
What is a good attention-getter?
Not a joke you found on Google at 1 a.m., please. I tried that once—it bombed so hard I wanted the stage to open up and eat me. The best openers are either a short, surprising story or a weird fact that makes people tilt their head like “wait, what?” If it makes you lean in when you say it, it’ll probably work.
How many words for 5/10 minutes?
So, here’s the rough math: normal humans speak about 125–150 words per minute. Which means 5 minutes is about 650–750 words, and 10 minutes is roughly double. But if you ramble like me when I get excited, you might hit those numbers in less time. This is why you time yourself, because “about 700 words” on paper means nothing when adrenaline speeds up your tongue.
How many main points should a speech have?
Three. I mean, you can do more, but I swear after three points, people’s brains start drifting to lunch. One main point feels too thin, four feels like a lecture. Three is just… comfy. Like a three-legged stool. Solid.
Is it okay to read from a script/teleprompter?
Yeah. And also no. Look, I’ve used a teleprompter before—it’s a lifesaver if you know how to not look like you’re reading a hostage note. You have to glance down, grab the line, then look up and talk to humans. If you’re gonna bury your face in the script the whole time, you’d be better off emailing it to them and saving everyone the trouble.
How do I end a speech powerfully?
Not with “and… yeah, that’s it.” (Yes, I did that once. Yes, it haunts me.) End with a call-back to something you said earlier, or a short sentence that leaves the room hanging for a second. Make it feel like that was the point the whole time. And then stop. Don’t keep talking. The silence after a good closer is like… better than applause, sometimes.
You know, all this “public speaking” stuff—most of it is less about being perfect and more about making people feel like you actually meant what you said. And that’s something you can’t script, no matter how many times you rehearse.
15) Printable One-Page Checklist + Templates + downloadable
You know how people say, “Oh, just make a quick outline before your speech”? Yeah, I used to laugh at that. Then I walked on stage once with nothing but three bullet points scribbled on a sticky note and… well… let’s just say my brain abandoned ship halfway through and I ended up talking about my cat for two minutes. Not great.
So now I’m that person with a speech preparation checklist. Like, a full-on, “if it’s not ticked, I’m not leaving the house” kind of thing. And because I’m lazy about making it pretty every time, I finally just made one printable. It’s got the basics:
- Speech outline template (intro → main points → transitions → wrap-up)
- Rehearsal plan template (timed run-throughs, record & review, friend feedback, stage walk)
- Space for scribbling random notes you think you’ll remember but definitely won’t.
Anyway, I stuck it all into a one-page PDF so you can just print it, fold it, spill coffee on it, whatever. It’s yours. And it might save you from standing under a spotlight wondering why you decided to talk about penguins instead of your actual topic.
Download the free speech outline PDF here – stick it on your fridge, your wall, or in that folder where all the other “important” stuff goes.
Do you want me to also make a filled-out example version so people can see exactly how it looks when it’s done? That could make this way more usable.