Why it's wonderful no-one cares about you.

Fear of addressing an audience is one of those enduring things like death, taxes and the UK's unpreparedness for weather.  It passes from generation to generation like a malicious gene.

And indeed there are many good reasons to be fearful.  I have identified 10, ranging from fear of being judged ('Doesn't know what he's talking about') to fear of letting the side down ('Thanks to you, we lost the pitch') to fear of people seeing that huge pimple on your nose ('Doesn't she have a mirror?')

When you feel fear, positive thinking is of no use to you.  There's little comfort in mantras like 'I am a powerful and totally amazing individual' when your tongue has become bonded to the roof of your mouth and your brain has shut up shop and gone fishing.  Denying the reality of what you so evidently feel is pointless. It just makes you more confused.

What to do about it?  PG Wodehouse advised nervous speakers to imagine the audience sitting there in their underpants. I have to say it has never worked for me: too much to think about already without that.  And does he mean M&S, or are we talking Rigby & Peller?

If it's the shakes you've got, that's because of excess adrenalin coursing through your body.  So you can dissipate the adrenalin by physical exertion. Finding somewhere private and running on the spot often does the trick.  But you can't do that when you're already on stage.

I used to get very nervous before presentations until one day I woke up with a wonderful realisation: a eureka moment that came with a surge of relief.  It was this: who the hell cares about me?

For years I had been slave to the preposterous notion that my audience were actually interested in me. And therefore interested in how I performed.  Whereas in point of fact they weren't.  They, not I, were at the centre of their individual universes.  All they were interested in, quite properly, was themselves: their own hopes, fears, problems and pimples.

So because they didn't care about me, I didn't need to care about me.  And that left me free to care about them, which is a lot easier.

Not convinced? Think about what goes through your mind when you're on the receiving end of a presentation.  I'll bet your thoughts and feelings are more focused on yourself than on the speaker.

Hope I get something out of this.  Hope it's not a waste of time.  Hope it helps with my problem.  Hope it's worth the effort of listening.  And so on.

If you like this little nugget gleaned from nights of insomnia, then next time you feel the fear before a presentation, stop thinking about yourself and start thinking about the people in front of you.  They're the ones that matter, not you.