What I Learned From Bombing My Own Stage

Dave and I gave everything we had to pull our two live events off.

More than that - we leveraged resources we didn’t have, using high interest credit cards to pay for Speaker flights and accommodations. 

Every person with any functioning brain cells will tell you not to do that.

And I cannot disagree. 

That story is for another time. Today, I’m going to share how I did what every Speaker’s biggest nightmare is:

I bombed my talk. 

Twice.

Both years. Both of my own events.

Our Speaker lineups were jaw dropping. We had not only top tier speakers and business powerhouses, we had top tier human beings.

Bedros Keuilian

Jason Redman

Ray Care

Marie Cosgrove

Larry Broton

Kent Clothier

Martha Krejci

Tony Whatley

Nick Vujicic

Eric Konavalov

Jenna McKaye

Ryan Weaver

And so many more. Not only did I want to move our audience, I really wanted to demonstrate to people that I can move an audience. That I can stand toe-to-toe with Speaker giants, and not appear small. After all, I have done exactly that.

I was the only Speaker at the TEDx event to receive a standing ovation. I struggle to recall any event in which I did not bring an audience to its feet. Unpolished and raw as I can be, I somehow manage to connect. There was no reason to expect I would not do the same at my own events.

Do I have a lot to learn? Absolutely. Am I the best Speaker at any event I’ve spoken at? Nope. At least, not in most cases. Because I am blessed to have shared the stage with Titans. And I am in awe of them. 

Still, year one of our Great American Summit, I was locked and loaded. Our turnout was smaller than we hoped but the buzz in the room made up for it. Each attendee was blown away by that value and inspiration pouring out from stage. I was scheduled on Day 2, one of the last 2 Speakers. Right before Nick Vuijic!

Two hours before my time, I was clear, sharp, and full of confidence. And then it happened. 

One hour before my scheduled time, I had an extremely personal conversation with another of our Speakers. This was in relation to an extremely personal matter to me. Something I had not shared at the time, concerning my son. 

This Speaker, from stage, spoke on this very matter my son was facing. It caught me off guard. He even called me out from stage, as if he somehow knew. Although there was no way he could have.

I rushed backstage to meet him when he was done. I broke down in tears, explaining my situation. How every single person for years had told me there is nothing to be done. And this Speaker told me he could help.

Have you ever been in a place so desperate, so dark, so full of fear, it consumed you? And then had someone or something appear as if out of nowhere to offer you hope? Have you ever experienced the rush of exhaustion and relief when that burden you;ve carried, that pain you’ve borne, is lifted? 

If so then you know what came next. 

My entire body crumpled. Emotion took over. It was as if God Himself came to me, and told me I could rest. 

All I wanted to do was cry, sleep, and then run home to get my son, to connect him with the Speaker, and help him the way I wanted to help him. 

And then my name was being called. It was time for me to give my talk.

The talk I wrote, rewrote, rehearsed, and lived for 6 months. The talk Nick Vijicic would hear as he waited his turn backstage. The talk I knew would move my audience, make Dave proud, and prove that I belong with the Titans.

And I absolutely, positively, tanked  it. 

Oh, sure, our audience gave me a standing ovation. Bless them for that. 

Yes, I said some things that connected, made them laugh, and didn’t hurt to sit through.

But they deserved so much more. And so, frankly, did I.

I’m still struggling with that memory. Especially because that promise of hope was an empty one. That Speaker ghosted me and never offered any help. 

We don’t get our character judgement right every time. 

For me it was a professional and personal disaster. 

The following year, I stubbornly pushed forward with the event knowing I should have agreed to cancel. In spite of rave reviews from past attendees, in spite of promises of support, in spite of our passion and belief, it was a shit show. 

Dave and I were still paying off credit cards from the first event, and racking up new charges for this one. Sponsor promises disappeared. Chaos reigned. I forgot to pack my Speaker clothes and didn’t even notice until day one of our event. I felt like I looked hideous. I felt hideous, in fact, inside and out. 

My talk changed at the last moment. As I quietly prayed behind stage, I knew exactly what I would say. The talk itself, I believe, was powerful. I;m proud of it. My delivery, though, was painful. I looked like I was coming home from a night of partying. I paced the stage with no care paid to positioning or style. On camera it was a train wreck. So while the talk itself was strong, while attendees and even venue staff members sought me out to thank me for my message, professionally it was big, fat, bomb. 

I’m relieved to say I’ve since delivered much stronger talks, workshops, and messages. I’ve continued with speaker training, learning and pushing myself to grow. Recently I was this close to making it to the top of a massive competition for a huge stage. And at the last minute, I blew the last audition. A talk I practiced hundreds  of times, could jump up and deliver right now, strongly. In the moment it mattered, I crashed hard.

It still hurts. But I am somehow stronger and sharper for it now. 

Why this long article to share this story, you ask?

Because I want you to know - to believe- that even the most public, painful faceplants are preferable to sitting safely on the sidelines. I cannot imagine my life without the rush of going for my dreams. I would be half the person I am now if I had not been sharpened, humbled, and inspired by my failures. 

What is that thing you want to so so badly? That people who love you caution you “not to get your hopes up” about?

Go after it.

Immediately.

—
Barb Allen
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