Introduction
My Speaking Seed Journey 我的演說種子之旅
How to Read This Book 如何閱讀此書
Stage 1 ― Ready to Get Dirty? 準備好下田耕耘了嗎？
Chapter 1
What Is a Speaking Seed? 何謂演說種子?
Chapter 2
Learning a Foreign Language 學習一種外語
Respecting the Language 尊重該語言
Chapter 3
Showing Up 站出來
A Note about Determination 關於決心
A Word about Fluency 關於流暢度
Stage 2 ― Seeding 播種階段
Chapter 4
Ego 自我
Chapter 5
Your Seed is Worth Sharing 你的種子值得分享
Chapter 6
Focus 專注
Meditation 冥想
Chapter 7
Fear 懼怕
Chapter 8
Mirrors & Self Love 鏡像 & 愛自己
Stage 3 ― Planting 種植階段
Chapter 9
Baby Speaking Seed Steps 演說種子循序漸進
Starting Out 開始起步
Chapter 10
Get Your Seeds in a Row 排列你的種子不間斷
Chapter 11
Writing Speaking Seed Speeches 撰寫演說種子的講稿
Introductions 開場
Body Paragraphs 本文段落
Conclusions 結論
Chapter 12
Stories vs. Experiences 故事 vs. 經驗
Chapter 13
Creating & Revising Speeches 創作並繼續修改講稿
Stage 4 ― Sprouting 萌芽階段
Chapter 14
Oral Production & Speaking 口頭呈現及演講
Chapter 15
Practice, Practice, Practice, Nerves, Nerves, Nerves
練習、練習、練習、緊張、緊張、緊張
To Memorize or Not to Memorize? 要背稿? 或不要背稿?
Seed Time 舞台練習時間
Chapter 16
Crutches & Supports 協助和支援
Chapter 17
Gestures 手勢
Chapter 18
Watering Your Plants 灌溉你的植物
Chapter 19
Dressing Well 適當的服裝
Diana is masterful with her words but when it comes to writing about her passion, she is mesmerizing! Her expertise in her subject is unquestionable and is made all the more interesting by the humour that peppers her writing.-Deepak Menon, DTM 2018-2019 International President-Elect
作者序
“Always do what you are afraid to do.”— Ralph Waldo Emerson
Wintertime is my favorite season in Taiwan... if I don’t think about all the mosquitoes, of course. From April until November, the non-stop scorching humid weather drains all of my energy and makes my air conditioner my best friend. But with the winter comes cool breezes, 5 p.m. sunsets, and the chance to wear something other than tank tops and sandals. On this particular winter day, I had carefully chosen a nice blouse and comfortable pants, seeing as I was going to be nervous giving my first speech in a foreign language.
I was about to deliver a presentation in Mandarin at a Toastmasters club where all of the members were Taiwanese locals. The more I thought about what I was doing, the more worried I got. “Girl, even though you hate it sometimes,” I reminded myself, “you are a challenge junkie!” Since I was a child, I’ve forced myself to do things that I was afraid to do because I wanted to be better, stronger, different from others.
I kept scratching the sides of my legs even though they weren’t itching. My stomach felt like I had eaten french fries slathered in tons of grease. My heart was pounding so fast I thought I would have a heart attack. But before I had a chance to convince myself that this all was a crazy idea and make a run for the exit, the last speaker finished. All eyes were now on me like searchlights in the dark.
I got out of my chair and peered at my audience before I went to the front of the room. I hadn’t been this nervous since I lost my virginity. My stomach rumbled like it was full of rocks while the Toastmaster (the master of ceremonies for the evening) introduced me. I was one of the first foreigners to join their club in over 15 years. Fifteen years? I realized at that moment that I was not a smart person.
I had spent the past two weeks practicing my short, four-minute speech with my Taiwanese roommate and my tutor. To be prepared, I thought it would be great if I wrote out my speech on four small pieces of poorly designed Snoopy paper. It was blue, adorned with graph lines that went all the way out to the edges of each sheet.
After I wrote the speech in English, I wrote it out in pinyin (Mandarin written in the Roman alphabet). While I practiced giving the speech, I soon became aware that I couldn’t read pinyin that well. My sentences were simple, but my pronunciation and tones sounded like I was singing a horrible heavy metal song rather than a flowing Chinese opera. For the past two weeks, I had done nothing but practice my speech. I had tried to get my voice to climb high like a soprano, to stay high and flat on that mountaintop, to charge down quickly into a deep pit, to roll up and down like a roller coaster... But still, my erratic pauses caused me to stumble over phrases and skip parts of the speech. In short, even though I had practiced non-stop for two weeks, my delivery still sucked, and I knew it. Between the ridiculous papers I had clutched in my hands and my poor Mandarin reading skills, I felt certain that my speech was doomed.
I looked around the room. It was small enough to make me visible to everyone, but large enough that only the people sitting in the first few rows would be able to see my hands shake and my lips quiver. I began speaking, my eyes focused on a black spot I saw on the ceiling towards the back of the room — probably a roach. I figured that if I centered on that roach, then I wouldn’t see the faces of my audience, and I wouldn’t lose my place on my graph-lined Snoopy paper and wind up suddenly stopping. Becoming a silent statue would be the worst-case scenario. Yes, looking at something that normally grosses me out was definitely a good idea, I decided.
At the end of my speech, I finally mustered the courage to look at my audience. I couldn’t believe it. All eyes were on me. Not a single person was looking at their watch or their cell phone. That was when I realized that Toastmasters clubs provide the perfect atmosphere for people to practice foreign language public speaking. Even if you deliver an almost incomprehensible speech, like I did, your listeners will be patient and attentive because none of them want to appear rude or, worse yet, miss out on something.
Those were the longest four minutes of my life... And then the silent pause after my speech was deafening. I guess my audience needed time to process my speech just as much I needed time to process the fact that I had completed my first speech in Mandarin. I thought to myself, “Finally, Diana, after two-and-a-half years of countless hours of study and practice, you can make a speech that locals can understand.” Then, to my surprise, everyone stood up and clapped. I wanted to cry. Perhaps I did cry. I can’t remember what I did exactly, but I do remember that I didn’t die from a heart attack like I thought I would. Instead, I scanned the faces around the room and saw only smiles and applause.
That speech — my first one delivered in a language other than English — was over a decade ago. Ever since then, I’ve been digging my shovel into the earth of foreign language public speaking. I’ve become a Speaking Seed.
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