Louder please

I found myself at a memorial service last weekend—rather, I attended one that I was invited to. I’m not in the habit of randomly showing up at strangers’ funerals—and after the service, I went to lunch with the attendees. There were 10 of us, all variously familiar with each other in a matter of degrees. There was one person I knew very well, 2 reasonably well, and the rest distant acquaintances. 

My point is that it was a random group of people I don’t often find myself with. So I shifted into Emcee mode. I don’t do this consciously. At this point in life, it’s a reflex that happens deep in my brain. I am the entertainer, the wit, the sparkly rhinestone in the room. To quote George Constanza, I’m bebopping and scatting all over the place. 

At one point, it struck me that every sentence coming out of my mouth was eliciting laughter. I was spouting one-liners like I was onstage at the Apollo, and, weirdly, it felt outside myself; outside my control. My internal voice screamed, be normal! and I replied, ‘but I don’t know how.’ This is all I know how to do in this moment. A group of people were mourning a loved one and some lizard voice buried deep in my marrow ordered, make ‘em laugh. 

From my earliest days, I’ve been a talker. Year after year, report cards would come home with good grades in all but Conduct, which invariably carried a note that I talked too much in class. I’ve never, not once in my life, been asked to speak up—because I’m already doing so. I talk to entertain but also to impress, to intimidate, and to argue, depending on the situation. 

I’ve done this for so long and in so many contexts that I rarely stop to ponder why I’m doing it, much less how. I can’t play the guitar or knit or accurately throw a football. But talk? I can do the hell out of that.

So when I lost my job a few weeks ago, I looked around and realized that I’m entering the last stage of my career. It’s now or never; time to step up to the plate and take a swing (something else I don’t know how to do). I want to help women talk and talk brilliantly, whether verbally or on the page. Writing is just another way of talking, after all.

Sharp Skirts is going to be the leader in training, development, and inspiration for women to find their unique stories and voice. Plenty of people can write words for you to say on stage or a podcast, ghostwrite your thought leadership bylines or book. We’ll give you the shovel to unearth your own personal brilliance. And the platforms to show it off. 

Hop in the car and join us on the joyride. We're going to take over the world.