The Art of Talking Back presents 21 famous interviews, the players, the fallout and the lessons learned. On her selection Haber, who was the editor for Al Gore’s book, An Inconvenient Truth, said, “I love this book because it does for communicating in a social media-dominated world what the classic Elements of Style continues to do for the printed word.”

 The Art of Talking Back is a bible for going on the record. It is the first book to present rules of conduct along with techniques – because interviews reveal character. “In an era where a verbal misstep can reverberate around the globe in seconds, Bodine Williams engagingly and authoritatively instructs us on how to learn from the past, and speak confidently in the present,” said Haber.

Williams, a former journalist for CTV and NBC news was the spokesperson for the International Red Cross and the International AIDS Vaccine Initiative. She is a communications consultant who specializes in helping companies develop verbal identities with brand language and leadership platforms.

The Art of Talking Back presents defining moments from Mitt Romney to Joan of Arc. “This is the age of the interview,” says Williams. “You can’t land a job or get elected president if you can’t ace one.” 

 For more information, or to arrange an interview with Bodine Williams, please contact:

 Joe Murphy

jmurphy@brainstormgroup.com

416.506.9930 x 275

The 15-minute outing grabbed the attention of columnists and pundits who described the former Massachusetts Governor as “testy,” “thin-skinned,” “repressed,” “prickly,” “ irritated,” “brittle.” Harsh words—and a reminder to all—that on the record interviews decode behavior.

Romney was overly-scripted yet unprepared.  In fact, his was a textbook performance of interview don’t. On three occasions when asked questions he didn’t like, Romney directed the reporter to his 2010 book, No Apology: A Case For American Greatness.  In other words, ”I’ve said it before and better.” Romney missed the point of the exercise. Interviews are conducted in real time without the benefit of an eraser.

Faced with the inevitable question about his contradictory positions (or flip flops), Romney rejected the evidence with, “Well Bret, your list is just not accurate.”  His denial invited more of the same. Cornered, Romney went negative, saying, “Well, I’m glad the Democratic ads are breaking through…”  Was he mocking Baier for doing his homework? Now he was blowing the leadership test along with the interview.

Asked if the Massachusetts healthcare bill he passed was a model for President Obama’s legislation, Romney replied, “I don’t know how many times I am going to have to answer.” He laughed (uncomfortably) and then added, “All right, let’s do it again.”  It was extraordinary behavior considering there was a televison camera in the room.

Speaking louder and faster in that please-let-this-be-over mode, Romney was a study in contrast. He used words to describe himself as a presidential candidate with vision and experience but he hardly defined himself as one with this performance.

By the end, he seemed to be back on the campaign trail, clinging to slogans and talking points as the opportunity slipped away.  He talked of a new “American Century,” a phrase which made sense when it was coined by Time magazine founder Henry Luce in 1946. Romney’s version (It won’t be “Global International Century” or an “Asian Century.”)  is more of a blurb than a blueprint.

Interviews are a confidence game. If Romney has been avoiding the media because he feels vulnerable, this bad performance only makes him more so.

Psychologists say it was “brain freeze” that caused Texas Governor Rick Perry’s much-parodied moment during the GOP debate on November 9, 2011. Perry struggled for 10-20-40-60 seconds to recall the third of three federal agencies he would cut if elected president.  Others speculated that Perry was likely the victim of “competing memories.” That’s as good an explanation as any for a moment that moderator John Harwood of CNBC described as “one of the biggest debating calamities ever to befall a presidential contender.”  For my money, the gaffe was caused by the stress of debating on a national stage and the fear of yet another bad performance.

It’s another reminder that responding to questions on the spot is not easy.  Like any skill, it takes training and practice to ace an interview.  Many confuse their or past successes with the skills needed to respond to questions on the spot. 

A famous case of a accomplished figure who walked boldly into the spotlight, only to leave in a whimper was Alexander Haig, the Secretary of State under President Ronald Reagan. On March 30, 1981, John Hinckley shot President Reagan as he was leaving a Washington hotel.  A few hours later, Haig rushed into the White House press briefing and took questions from reporters who were demanding to know who was in charge.  Haig, a former NATO supreme commander, responded with, “as of now, I am in control here…” Eight words that changed his life. 

 Haig was shredded by critics even as the crisis was unfolding. His impressive credentials did not translate into verbal authority on the spot. And as the good soldier predicted, decades later the misstep was reported in his obituaries as the defining moment in his public life. 

Who was the man to rise to the occasion? Timothy J. McCarthy, a secret service agent. McCarthy extended his body to shield “the target” — exactly as he was trained to do.

 He took a bullet for the President and was a hero before the day was over.

In school we are taught to focus on the written word, when in life it’s what we say that matters. There’s the problem. Too often, our words reveal more than we intend. In fact, most verbal blunders – either at the podium or in an interview – result not from tough or unfair questions, but from self-destructive answers.

Dazed or bewildered by the glare of bright lights people lose confidence, sometimes disastrously so.  That’s because interviews are as much about what know and as how you present yourself—they reveal character.

Presidential candidate, Rick Perry, was hammered for his lack of verbal Q during the recent GOP debates. OK, so he’s not quick on his feet, but neither was George W. Bush and he went all the way to the White House.  Big difference: Bush came off as likeable. (In fact, the guy was kind of hard to dislike even when he was fronting two wars.) With Bush nothing personal. Whereas Perry gets rattled. He appears to have an edge and a long memory.

Governor Perry can delegate a killer advertising campaign, but he will have to talk for himself to get the nomination.

David Frost interviewing former U.S. President Richard Nixon

REPORTER: Do you think you have too much power for one man?

LUCE: It seems to me that’s a very abstract question.

REPORTER: No I think it’s a very practical question.

LUCE: How can you measure power? You can’t weigh it.

REPORTER: You surely have great power, do you not?

LUCE: Well, I wouldn’t even say power.

REPORTER: You wouldn’t say this is power?

LUCE: Influence and utter responsibility. I associate power more clearly and semantically with public office.

REPORTER:  Yes, but your magazines certainly influence public office.

LUCE: Well if you like the word.

This is one of only a few interview moments with Luce to be found. No wonder.

Pinker provides a pychologist’s perspective on something we all know -  talk is autobiographical.  Every story in my book, The Art of Talking Back demonstrates how interviews (debates, hearings and so on)  reveal character. That’s why we love to watch them. 

Authors (writers of fiction in particular) can be counted on to engage in personal combat for show. If there was an award for what not to say in an interview it would be named for the novelist and critic Mary McCarthy. She brought her decades-in-the-making bad girl persona to a taping of The Dick Cavett Show on October 18, 1979.  The McCarthy-Hellman feud was touched off by one of Cavett’s trademark faux-innocent questions. Asked to name contemporary writers who were “overrated,” McCarthy said the only one she could think of (and one was enough in this case) was Lillian Hellman who, she offered, was “tremendously overrated, a bad writer, and a dishonest writer…. every word she writes is a lie, including ‘and’ and ‘the.’” Hellman sued. McCarthy defended. The two scarcely knew each other except as occupants on literary lists. Still, the suit continued until it was settled posthumously.

Moving to the world of sports where one-upmanship is to be expected, the Blackberry maker Research in Motion’s co-chair, Jim Balsillie (a Canadian) is doing his best to stay neutral when responding to questions about National Hockey League Commissioner Gary Bettman (an American). Bettman opposes his bid to buy the Phoenix Coyotes directly from the majority shareholder in order to relocate the team to Hamilton, Ontario. Balsillie’s third attempt at ownership pits the men as rarified rivals with very different visions of the future NHL. One is looking to the Sunbelt, the other is facing true north.

How do you set yourself apart without dissing the other fellow? That is the question. Now watch. Balsillie glides by questions about Bettman, even calling him “the Commissioner” to avoid saying his name. He circles his own messages, sometimes deliberately. Balsillie does have a tendency to describe himself (philanthropic, ethical, reliable) rather than define himself in his interviews. For his part, Bettman takes direct aim at Balsillie’s actions, while sidestepping questions about the man. And he arrives for his Q &A with a suitcase full of crafted messages, including this gem, “fans invest in a franchise emotionally and financially, you don’t give up on them when times are tough.”

Somebody got this power-money-rivalry thing all wrong.  For Balsillie and Bettman, it’s about the fans, the game and the NHL. Perhaps things will change, but so far neither of them has a prayer of winning any award named for that Mary McCarthy dame.

Posted by Bodine Williams, the media training and message development specialist.

Sure the shrill set commands attention but it’s the cool, confident people who get respect. If credibility is the currency of interviews, is it possible to succeed in public life if you can’t ace one? Let’s look at a recent example. Caroline Kennedy is a lawyer and an author with a quietly impressive record of giving back, but many thought her unqualified to fill Hillary Clinton’s New York Senate seat, and during a series of interviews she failed to change their minds. 

Kennedy didn’t seem to know how to make her case or even how to make conversation. And her constant repetition of “you know” and “kind of” made her sound unsure and uncommitted. It is ironic because her father’s performance in the first presidential debate with Richard Nixon on September 26, 1960  put him over the top in the closely contested election. It was no fluke. John Kennedy could think on his feet and he was an engaging subject as seen on archival tapes of the Jack Parr Show earlier that year. (The incomparable Mr. Parr set the template for hosting The Tonight Show.)  In terms of revealing aspects of character, television trumps print and the internet.

You don’t get to outsource your answers from the hot seat. Just ask George W. Bush whose erratic performance in the 2004 presidential debates with Senator John Kerry posed a bigger threat to his re-election than did his decision to invade Iraq. Even those who had long suspected that the President was not a wordsmith were disappointed. CEOs are expected to talk intelligently about what they do, full stop. Kerry pulled even in the polls after three strong showings. Although Bush prevailed in the end, his responses will leave historians with more clues as to whether it was the campaign or the candidate that won the election.

Posted by Bodine Williams, the media training and message development specialist.

A spokesperson is someone engaged to speak on behalf of others. They are guardians of brands and reputations. So why was Alan Nierob talking about himself when responding to questions about actress Natasha Richardson, after her fall on a ski slope in Quebec?  His stinging rebuke sounds like it was meant for The National Enquirer, but it was The New York Times that was calling. In fact, Richardson’s story resonated with a wider public precisely because it was so real and unscripted.

Nierob, we can assume, was being hounded by reporters and others who were demanding to know more than he could say.  And with clients who are catnip for the celebrity press, he’s used to being on the defensive. It’s also likely that Richardson, the wife of client Liam Neeson, was a friend. Still, given her sunny temperament and the wave of sympathetic coverage, a kinder, gentler “no comment” was needed.

Spokespeople are also behind-the-scenes crisis managers and strategists who are paid to make embarrassing stories slip away. And Nierob has a record of tending to celebrities in trouble. In 2006, he fronted for Mel Gibson following the actor’s DUI arrest and the uproar over his anti-Semitic rant at the scene. The Oscar winner was soon off to rehab and off the front pages.

Like doctors, spokespeople hold to a Hippocratic-like oath to avoid doing – or saying – anything that could make matters worse. This always reminds me of Raoul L. Felder. He’s the lawyer who represented New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani during his nasty divorce from Donna Hanover in 2001.  Giuliani announced his separation before he told his wife. Hanover asked the judge to ban his girlfriend from the official residence. Felder said she was a self-absorbed wife and mother.  Still, was it possible that Felder was speaking for Giuliani when he announced to a curbside gathering of scribes, “The leitmotif here is Donna Hanover – that isn’t even her maiden name, by the way, that’s the name of her former husband – will have to be dragged from the chain of the chandeliers in Gracie Mansion by the next mayor who ever that is.”   In this case, Felder was having far too good a time not to be honoring his client’s intent.

Posted by Bodine Williams, the media training and message development specialist.

“It was easier to write the blasted book than it was to promote it.” That’s what I hear from writers who had the drive to turn themselves into authors but who faltered when the time came to promote their work.  Even with a new website and a strategic selection of book clubs, book blogs, readings rooms, etc., these authors weren’t confident they knew what they were doing. Sadly, the insecurity seemed justified. Most are about to pitch the book they wrote and not the book they want to sell.  What’s the difference you say? Perspective.

It takes subjectivity to imagine a book that that doesn’t exist. That’s Subjective as in “peculiar to an individual,” as “affected by personal views, experience or background.” Please note that in most dictionaries, the word subjective is just a hop, skip and a jump to “illusory” as in an erroneous perception of reality. (We know a little madness is necessary or books wouldn’t get done.) But it takes objectivity to bring the book to market. That’s Objective as in expressing and dealing with facts or conditions as “perceptible to persons other than the affected individual.”   The persons of interest in this case are members of the book-buying public. And please note, they continue to take their cues from the media.

Despite the changes in publishing, the essentials of book promotion remain the same.  Successful authors are the ones with access to the book reviewers and interviewers in newspapers and on radio and television. Access is harder to come by if you’re not what The New York Times use to call a Boldface name, but it’s impossible if you haven’t distilled your book into media messages.  In determining what’s important to large pools of people, journalism operates around this notion of objectivity. (We will not stop to debate the current state of journalism and the perception that objective reporting is in decline or whether or not the fault, dear Brutus, is in ourselves and not in our star-based, media culture that favors reach over content.) Reporting is still a matter of relevance, although there’s been a slippage in favor of popularity in recent years. 

A new book should announce itself boldly. It should have a compelling narrative and an editorial context which has been fully absorbed and articulated by its author. That’s what makes a book a gift of relevance.

Posted by Bodine Williams, the media training and message development specialist.