The perfect reframe awaits

Normally my keynotes happen in the morning, as the opening session to set the tone for the entire event. (Fun fact: the word keynote comes from the idea that there is a note that sets the key for the entire orchestra, so that’s why it is used for conferences.) For morning keynotes, you get up, you get on stage, you get gone. And, in those mornings, I barely have enough time to get nervous.

But, every once in a while, I get hired for an afternoon keynote. And, whoa nelly, my nerves go wild like toddlers high on a breakfast, lunch, and dinner of Dippin’ Dots.

This summer, in New York City, I had exactly that: an afternoon keynote for IBM. For IBM. IBM! Probably my most impressive “logo” I would collect to date, and I really wanted to knock it out of the park for them (and for me and that great testimonial I so dearly wanted on my website, too). There were 300 people in the room, with 10,000 tuning in from virtual watch parties around the world. I went to sound check at 8am, and then back to my hotel room with nothing to do for the rest of the morning until my 2pm showtime but think about each and every one of those people watching, judging, smirking, snoring…

So, it’s all to say: I spent most of the morning alternating between hanging my head half out of a bathroom bin that was threatening to take my breakfast, and texting with shaking thumbs to a speaker friend to tell him that I didn’t think I could actually do it and wondering how I could quit the business before I had to take the stage.

Me: “Do you think I can go lick a NYC subway railing and get Ebola in the next few hours so I don’t have to do this?”

Him: “You could, but you might pick up something even worse than Ebola. And maybe dying of IBM is less painful than dying of Worse-Than-Ebola?”

For the record, this friend once told me that he’s never once ever had impostor syndrome, and he’s never once felt like he walked into a room where he didn’t perfectly and immediately belong.

In other words, I wasn’t expecting a sympathetic ear. But, I’d already been texting him about other matters, and I wasn’t thinking straight, so I just went ahead and admitted the truth, “I am scared out of my mind that I will royally f*ck the entire thing up and never get hired to speak again.”

(I mean, technically, that would also mean I’d quit the business, right? Why not just quit without the slow death on stage, then?)

But he didn’t. Instead, he asked me why I was so nervous.

Him: “I’ve seen you on stage. You are great. You always seem so comfortable there. Why are you nervous about being on stage?”

Me: “I’m not actually nervous about being on stage. Like, not nervous about the performance aspect of it, or the thousands of people watching me part. But I still can’t seem to calm my nerves.”

Him: “Do you know that you are delivering to them what they want and need to hear?”

Me: “Actually, I do. I did a lot of homework and partnered with them to create a bespoke keynote. I did more work for this than probably any other keynote I’ve done this year.”

Him: “Then you will be fine. I never get nervous about speaking on stage, I only get nervous that the things I’m speaking are wrong… for them. Like, I wasted their important and rare gathering opportunity because I missed something that they wanted or needed to hear.”

And that’s when it hit me: I wasn’t nervous. I was invested. What a reframe!

I was so invested in getting it right that I’d wrapped myself around a tree about getting it wrong. And, those nerves were shooting venomous daggers of insecurity into my body, threatening to loosen every grip I had on the actual reality that my meticulousness already saw me through three rounds of feedback with my client to customize my entire talk entirely right.

It was as simple as that.

I knew that I was solid on stage.
I knew that I was solid in my content.
I knew that this particular content was solid for the particular client.

I just had to reframe the feelings I was having from negative to positive, from insecurity to strategy, from anxiety to caring.

So, I didn’t quit.
I crushed it.
I got off stage to “Wow, wow, wow” from the client.

A rep told me "That was the best motivational keynote we've ever had."

And IBM Americas General Manager commented on my LinkedIn post, "On behalf of IBM, thank you Laura for sharing your incredible insight, experiences, and energy with our team. You challenged us to think differently about defining success and shared your wisdom on how to push faster and further to achieve the extraordinary. Thank you for making a huge impact and showing us why you are also extraordinary!"

Do you want these types of testimonials, land big media opportunities, and elevate your speaking career in 2026? Join me on January 21. During this 2.5 hour masterclass I'll teach you everything I've learned from delivering hundreds of keynotes and being featured on The Today Show, Good Morning America, Access Hollywood, and more. We'll dive into what producers are looking for, pitching yourself effectively, positioning yourself, building your portfolio and proposals, networking and negotiating, and so much more. Plus a live Q&A with speed coaching opportunities! I've been where you want to go and by the end of this masterclass you'll have my exact steps to getting there. Save Your Seat

So yeah. I nearly bailed on one of my biggest stages.
But I showed up anyway.
Because I learned a powerful lesson.
And what I know to be true this week is this: Our nerves lie to us by confusing fear and nausea with excitement and investment.

When I was writing Wonderhell, an Olympian said to me, “I never get nervous on race day. I’ve done the work. I already got the medals in training. I just pick them up on race day.”

And, I realized that we all need to adopt more of that mentality for big stakes moment.

Did I do the work?
Do I stand firm in my client-centered approach?
Is this the right message for this client at this time (and how do I know)?

What about you? Have you ever experienced this sort of thing, only to realize that your own self-talk was coming from the wrong lens?

I’d be curious if you did, or if I’m just a weirdo.