The Sting II – not the sequel

One thing that sets apart a great talk from one that is just ‘good,’ (or downright awful) is this: it tells a story. Ideally, just one story. Okay, sometimes you just don't have enough material to fill an hour (if it's a full seminar) and you want to tell more stories. But have some pity on your audience. Find a way to link them into a single narrative. You may be able to squeeze five different stories into a single time period, but we have to wrench our minds around each one and change gears with an unfamiliar topic. We may just give up. Stop caring. Lose interest. Tell one story (which can have different parts) and make it all fit together. As I said last time, nobody worries if you finish a bit early, but we will not love you if you finish late (I'm being nice here, we might be readying the tar and feathers).

When I advise trainees on writing papers, I frequently point out that it is important to put the most intriguing data as close to the beginning of the paper as possible. The fact is, many people don't read through the entire paper, especially if it isn't in their immediate field of expertise. My trainees (and perhaps you, too) want it to read like a mystery: we wanted to explain something, and we ruled out one thing after another, and then, Figure 7, we finally got it! They wait for the applause, but there isn't any, because everyone dropped out by Figure 4. So I extol them to put the really interesting stuff up front, followed by the more prosaic (but important) testing of the alternatives.

But when you give a talk, you have more latitude. Unless someone walks out, or falls asleep (and hopefully this won't happen, because you've set them up and hooked them), you can take the approach you wanted to take in a paper: we desperately wanted the answer, but wherever we looked, we couldn't find it. Like Sherlock, we ruled out the impossible, and what remained, however improbable, looked like the truth. This approach, in my experience, can work, but only if you convey your passion and frustration as you sought the answer.

The Tale, the story of your exploration of that question you asked (and hopefully we want you to answer if you've done your job) does not have to take this tack. It can be just as regaling to see how you successfully built your understanding, experiment by experiment, letting us in on the adventure.

In any case, here's another idea that can help with the Tale. As you develop the story, summarize. Not just at the end, but along the way. Help us catch up with the results and what they mean. List the findings and conclusions at each step. And then read them to us. Word by word. I know it feels a bit silly, but there's a reason. First, we may have lost track and need to know where we are. And second, it's very distracting to try to read a slide when the speaker is talking about something else. Don't make us multi-task. Read it to us. Oh, and it helps to title each of your data slides with the conclusion of that slide. Even if we don't entirely follow the experiment, we'll be able to keep up.

In The Sting, the Tale was a lie, a con. But the Tale in our talks is the real thing. More or less. Less, because you do not have to tell your story in order, figure by figure. It is completely permissible to move the actual events around to make a more compelling Tale. A figure from one paper can precede a figure from another, earlier one (or follow it, regardless of the publication date) if it helps to further the Tale. Your goal is not to explain what you did, month by month (although you can if it works) but to give us a clear understanding of how you approached the question. It's a story.

If it's been a long time since you've seen The Sting (you have seen it, right?), Gondolff and his team created a scam where it appeared that they were betting on and winning horse races that had already been run. They show Lonnegan their system, and he's interested. But when Lonnegan wants to try it for himself, they face a problem – they do not have enough money to let him win the initial bet he wants to make. So they arrange a ‘shut out,’ stopping bets just before he can place his. Nevertheless, he sees that he would have won, and agrees to make a much larger bet the next day. Hence, the Shut Out.

But there is another Shut Out we do in our talks, and I suggest that this is not desirable. When I speak, I'm not actually talking about the work I have done with my own hands. It is the work of my trainees. Of course I show an acknowledgement slide with all of their names, but that doesn't really convey the enormous efforts they made in doing the work. Some speakers try to solve this by ‘putting the most important slide first,’ showing the list of workers at the beginning of the talk. But since we don't know who these people are (usually) and have not yet been through either the Set Up or Hook, we can't be as engaged as we might be.

So here's a little suggestion: When you begin to describe an experiment, or series of experiments, show a picture of the person who did the work at that point in the talk. When we're engaged and interested, it's nice to meet the person who is going to help us understand part of the answer to the question.

Of course, if you are describing work you did all by yourself, there is no need for this. But really, nobody helped you? Let us know who these people are.

At the climax of The Sting, Lonnegan has placed his large bet, when Hooker rushes in and shoots Harry Gondolff. At this point we believe that they have fallen out, and the result of their antipathy is startling and sad as we watch it all come crashing down. Lonnegan is rushed away, sans money, satisfied that it is better than facing the police. Except, of course, this is the Sting; Gondolff is alive, and the con has all worked. Including on us.

The most difficult part of a talk is the last quarter. You've been speaking, non-stop, sustaining your own passion and interest in the material, and it's, well, exhausting. The audience is tiring, too. It is inevitable that energy flags all around, and yet, this is the part that everyone will remember, if you do it right. Have you ever noticed that most questions that are asked at the end of a talk, at least at first, tend to concern the last things you talked about? As the rest of the talk sinks in (and maybe people look over their notes) questions about the earlier parts come up, but the last bit should pack a punch if your talk is to be a great one.

It is tempting to say that you should save the best for last, but I don't recommend that, for the reasons I just mentioned. But there is another way, and perhaps it's better. In the entertainment business, this is epitomized by the saying, ‘always leave them wanting more.’ That's where the Sting comes in.

The Sting comes at the end of the talk for the same reason it comes at the end of the movie, because once it's over we talk a bit, and then go home (or back to work). So what sort of Sting, would sting? Would make your talk memorable?

If you've done your job right, you have engaged us, made us care, made us interested, and then told us a story of a question and the search for the answer. Or answers. So take the last few minutes to tell us where it's going, the question that inevitably comes from answering the last question. How are you going to answer that? Do you even have a result that might point at that answer? Can you make us even more excited to hear, in time, what that answer might be? Look, we're not finished. There's more to do. Hey, maybe a reviewer of your next grant is sitting in the room, it can't hurt to have them be interested in you finding out that answer, too.

Great talks, like great films, are entertainment, but also more. They make us think, or at least celebrate the wonder of the things we can think about. They stay with us. As I've said before, doing science is a uniquely human enterprise, like telling stories. A scientific talk is an opportunity to share that experience. The next time I hear you speak, I hope your story is a great one. I'll stay awake, promise.