Lessons from the Upper Balcony

As a professional actor, I’ve learned a lot about public speaking from my time onstage. And I’ve shared plenty of those lessons on this blog over the years.

But you know what I realized I don’t talk about enough?

Lessons I’ve learned from the audience.

While migrating my blog to my new website recently, I reread over 50 past posts and realized I have never talked about this once. Which is wild, because I spend so much of my life sitting in dimly lit theaters watching other artists do their thing.

In fact, in 2025 alone, I was part of 55 different audiences.

Everything from staged readings of new plays in development, to full Broadway musicals, to concerts, to Shakespeare in the Park, to improv shows, and even the New York City Ballet. I’ve seen shows in basements, churches, bars, parks, and Madison Square Garden.

I love being an audience member.

It’s one of the great joys of living in New York City. And honestly, some of the best lessons I’ve learned about public speaking weren’t learned from performing…

They were learned from watching.

So without any further ado, here are some of my favorite public speaking lessons I learned (or relearned) from sitting in audiences this year.

Lesson One: Know Your Frame

One of the most common questions I get from my public speaking clients is:“How much am I allowed to move during this presentation?”

And my annoying answer is almost always: it depends.

What does it depend on? Your frame.

When I say “frame,” I mean: How much negative space does your audience see around you?

It’s a term borrowed from the world of film and TV. Are you in an extreme close-up? Or are you in a wide shot?

Because your body language needs to adapt depending on how much of you the audience can actually see.

On Zoom, your frame is tight. Sometimes all you really have access to is your face and eyes.

In a small black box theater? You may have access to your whole body.

In a massive Broadway house? Your physical storytelling needs to be big enough to reach the back of the upper balcony.

One of the clearest ways I saw this play out this year was simply by sitting in so many different kinds of spaces.

In smaller theaters, performers could be incredibly subtle and still deeply compelling. In giant theaters, it often took much larger, more physical storytelling choices to communicate the same emotional truth. What feels “too big” in a small room can feel perfectly natural in a huge space—and what feels grounded in a tight frame can disappear entirely in a wide one.

So here’s the takeaway:

Your physicality should look different when you’re on a Zoom call than when you’re on a conference stage than when you’re giving your TED Talk.

Different frames ask different things of you.

Know your frame.

Lesson Two: You’re Not the Only One Telling the Story

One of the things I love most about theatre is how collaborative it is as an art form. The story isn’t just being told by the actors or the playwright. It’s being told by everything around them.

Lighting tells a story.

Music tells a story.

Sound cues tell a story.

Even whether the house lights are up or down tells a story.

Sometimes the audience laughs because an actor delivers a brilliant punchline.

Sometimes the audience laughs because… a tuba starts playing.

This year I saw The Seat of Our Pants at The Public Theater, and one of the first big laughs came not from an actor’s line, but from a perfectly timed orchestral cue.

The setup came from the actor. The punchline came from the brass section.

As public speakers, we often think storytelling is just our words and maybe our slide deck. But in reality, everything your audience can see or hear is telling a story.

What you’re wearing tells a story.

Whether you choose to use slides tells a story. 

Whether you carry notecards tells a story.

It’s important to pause and ask, “What story am I telling with this choice?” and “Is it the story I want to be telling?”

Because let me be clear, there are very valid storytelling reasons to hold your notes.

This year I watched a lot of staged readings.

Often, the actors clearly knew their lines—but they still held the script. Why?

Because holding the script signals to the audience:“This is still in development. This is a work in progress.”

And audiences watch differently when they know something is in progress. They are generally more generous and forgiving when they know what they’re watching isn’t a finished product.

So think about that in your next presentation:

Do you want to look polished and finished? 

Or do you want to invite collaboration and signal “first draft energy”?

The decision you make tells a story. It’s your duty to know what that story is.

Ask yourself:

What story am I telling outside of my words and slides?

What signals am I sending—intentionally or not?

Because you are absolutely not the only one telling the story.

Lesson Three: Be the Kind of Audience Member You Want to Attract

This lesson has two parts.

The first is fairly simple and obvious:

Be an audience member.

One of the best ways to improve your public speaking is to sit in more audiences. In the same way writers are told to read, speakers should be listening.

Go see theatre for lessons in storytelling and delivery.

Go to stand-up comedy for lessons in timing.

Go to improv to watch extemporaneous speaking excellence on full display.

Notice the moments that make you lean in. Notice the moments that make you mentally check out.

The more intimately you know what it feels like to sit in an audience, the more empathetic and effective you will be as a speaker.

And second:

Build some good audience karma.

Be a generous laugher when you see a comedy.

If you’re at a webinar, be the person who keeps their camera on.

If someone’s work moves you, tell them.

These things may not technically “improve your speaking technique,” but I absolutely believe that there is value in showing up to other people’s performances in the way that you’d want them to show up to yours.

Because while none of us can guarantee we’re going to knock it out of the park every time we speak…

We can control how we show up as audience members.

So this year I encourage you to go out, experience great art, and be the audience member you want to see in the world.

Or at the very least—be the audience member you’d want to see sitting in your crowd.