Asked to describe a speech, I think most of us would say, “It’s a guy standing at a lectern on a stage reading from notes, a script, or a teleprompter.”

Asked to describe a presentation, we would say, “It’s somebody standing in front of a room with a screen behind her, where she’s showing visuals to explain something to the audience.”

So what’s the difference? 

First, the similarities are pretty obvious.  Both involve one person talking to a group of people.  The people listening are sitting down, facing the speaker, and passively listening.  The person speaking is working hard to say something to the listeners, and has probably worked hard to prepare her thoughts and materials.

The first difference is that we don’t see visuals in a speech.  The speaker strives to paint a picture in the mind of the audience, but he’s doing it with words, not with images on a screen.

The next difference is the degree of formality.  Speeches are more formal than presentations.  They date back to 500 BCE and maybe even further, beyond our historical record.  Great speeches have rocked the world.  They are about (or should be) about big ideas, values, and concerns. 

Presentations are more informal than speeches.  We associate them with more technical, mundane circumstances.  They have their roots in education, the military, and the practical trades, such as building and engineering.  They tend to be about facts and figures.

Speeches are given to larger crowds, and therefore must to appeal to the emotions.  The larger the crowd, the less complex the material should be.

Presentations are generally given to smaller groups, and therefore can be more detail-oriented.  The smaller group should always be given a chance to discuss the material, ask questions, and engage with the speaker.  This is not possible when thousands are listening to a speech.

Speeches are made in suits and tuxedos,  presentations in shirtsleeves and slacks.   Speeches require broad vision, whereas presentations often require a deep, narrow focus.

Speeches can be made to persuade or entertain, but not to inform.  Presentations can do all three — inform, persuade, and entertain.  Occasionally, someone gives a presentation that accomplishes all those goals simultaneously. 

Just because you’re good at one, it doesn’t mean you’re good at the other.   Speechmaking is a different muscle, requiring development.   Likewise the informality and accessiblity of  presenting can be hard for those accustomed to the lectern and the teleprompter.

CEOs and thought leaders give speeches.  Managers and technical experts give presentations.  Of course this is an oversimplification, but it evokes the distinction I’m making. 

Someone once said ( I forget who) that the only reason to give a speech is to change the world.  That’s a tall order, requiring the speaker to ratchet up her degreee of intention. 

Presentations require clear thinking and organization, but do not often demand that the speaker light the world on fire–just throw a little light on the subject at hand.

When I was in acting school in New York, I was sent to a famous voice and speech teacher named Marian Rich. She lived in an apartment on East 16th Street, and taught her group and private sessions in her living room. As a group student, I sat in a circle of folding chairs and got to know the other students rather quickly.

Marian had taught many of the luminaries of Hollywood and the Broadway stage, including Marlon Brando, Geraldine Page, and Al Pacino, to name a few. She was a demanding teacher, and did not tolerate bad attitudes or behaviors.

She taught us that the voice is a wind instrument, and that to use it well, we must start by learning how to breathe. This we did, lying on the floor, observing our lower abdomens, floating ribs, lower backs,and upper torsos as we inhaled and exhaled with care and precision.

We learned to find the energy of the voice in the breath stream rather than in squeezing the throat or lifting and dropping the sternum.

We learned to speak with an open throat, to find our optimal pitch and resonance, and to expand our range of expressiveness. I recall Marian saying that in well-spoken English, there is a change of pitch on every stressed syllable.

Most of us don’t like hearing our own voices. One reason is that we normally experience our own sounds through the conduction of bone, whereas a recording is made through air–the way others hear us–two very different media.

The sound of your voice is a huge part of your presence in this world. If you have an attractive voice, people give you the benefit of the doubt.

If you have a deep, powerful, authoritative voice, people are more likely to agree with you.

If you have a tentative, whiney voice that goes up at the ends of sentences, you are more likely to be dismissed as a lightweight.

The great thing is, your voice can be developed, expanded, strengthened. It is there for you to mold into a thing of beauty and power.

If you don’t like the sound of your own voice, you can change it. 

I know this, because I did it.  And it’s not a phoney, cosmetic change.  It’s basically knowing how to use the equipment you were born with.