Stand and Deliver

a man cowering under an oversized microphone

By the time Barack Obama left office in January 2017, Terry Szuplat was among the top political wordsmiths in the country, having penned and polished nearly 500 speeches for a president regarded as one of the most gifted orators of his generation.

For a lifelong political wonk, the job—with its deadline pressure, internal testing of ideas with brilliant colleagues, and rush of revising speeches for the president on the fly—was exhilarating. But for Szuplat, SPA/BA ’95, a special assistant to the president and senior director of speechwriting for the National Security Council, the prospect of delivering remarks he spent a career crafting was enough to make him want to crawl under the Resolute Desk.

Speechwriters work in the shadows, letting their boss get all the credit—a role that fit Szuplat like a Washington power suit. Aside from delivering brief eulogies at family funerals or talking to small groups of college students, Szuplat preferred blending in to the background. “I found that it was more comfortable, safer, and less embarrassing to not put myself out there,” he says.

Once he left the White House, Szuplat tried speaking publicly a handful of times; some of his talks went well, but often, he tanked. He froze during a live TV interview. In the middle of a conference call with young foreign policy activists, Szuplat’s mouth turned to cotton, sending him into a coughing spasm that prompted the host to put him on mute. Szuplat began making excuses to avoid talking to groups about his experience working for Obama and stayed mum as others offered toasts at social gatherings.

But an invitation from a Finnish speechwriter to make an address before 300 people about how to deliver a speech prompted Szuplat to reckon with his anxieties—and led him to write Say It Well: Find Your Voice, Speak Your Mind, Inspire Any Audience, which was released in September.

For Szuplat, the invitation was an inflection point: bow to his anxiety or confront it. “I was in my late 40s,” Szuplat says. “I thought, ‘Am I going to keep hiding from this thing that scares me forever? Maybe this is an opportunity to work through my fears.’”

The talk was six months out. Before he agreed, Szuplat reverse-engineered how he’d helped Obama craft his public remarks, pulling White House records to create a list of the hundreds of speeches he helped write or edit for the 44th president.

Poring over the list “triggered a thousand memories,” he says. “I realized I have a lot of stories to share. It gave me the raw material I needed for the speech.” Szuplat agreed to the talk. He wrote a 20-minute speech and practiced delivering it—over and over—at his home office in Arlington, Virginia.

Months later, Szuplat flew 4,200 miles to Finland, stepped onto the stage and, as his heart raced, started talking. At the beginning, he hemmed and said “ah” and “uh” a lot. He clutched his notes. But at a certain point, he hit his stride. He noticed the audience was smiling, listening, and nodding along. “I tried to give the speech only I could give—taking the audience on a journey inside the White House, on my trips with Obama around the world,” Szuplat writes.

He killed it. When Szuplat concluded his remarks, the crowd responded with a 45-second standing ovation.

“I thought, ‘Wow, I guess I can do this thing that scared me. I can work my way through it.’ I did it a few more times and [realized] there’s something here,” Szuplat says. “A lot of people struggle with the idea of standing in front of a group of people and telling [their] story. It’s terrifying for a lot of people. It was terrifying for me.”

Before he wrote a single line of Say It Well, Szuplat thought deeply about what kind of book he wanted to pen. He considered his 25-year speechwriting career, particularly the eight years he worked for Obama. Why was he so good? Szuplat asked himself. And how did he get to be so good?

White House staffers often write books about their tenures, dishing about working for the most powerful elected official in the world. Szuplat didn’t follow that template.

Say It Well mixes memoir with actionable guidance doled out in bulleted lists, academic research, observations from fellow speechwriters, and insights from Obama. It’s chock-full of tips on how to write and deliver public remarks—principles that will help anyone from the commander in chief to a candidate for student body president. They include avoiding jargon, sticking to facts, knowing your audience, refraining from reciting lists of statistics, and telling a story.

The book includes not only behind-the-scenes stories of Szuplat’s experiences writing for the president, but also several anecdotes describing how, during and after his time in the White House, the speechwriter helped people outside the limelight tell their stories.

“I wanted to write a book that would speak to everybody, so many of the stories in the book are of extraordinary speeches given by people of color across this country, by young people, by women, by people from the LGBTQ community,” Szuplat says. “I want people from different backgrounds to see themselves in the pages of the book.”

One of the stories involves Brayden Harrington, a 13-year-old from a small town in New Hampshire who in February 2020 met Joe Biden when the former vice president was campaigning in Concord. Harrington and Biden bonded over the fact that they both speak with a stutter—a moment that went viral. Months later, Democratic officials asked the boy to speak at the virtual Democratic National Convention where Biden would be formally nominated for president.

Harrington was initially terrified at the prospect, but he concluded he might inspire others and decided to speak, writing a 200-word script and practicing before his family. When the day arrived, Harrington delivered his speech from his bedroom, “his braces sparkling as he smiled,” Szuplat writes.

He told his story of meeting Biden and how the future president said they are members of the same club. “We,” Harrington said, then hesitated, looked off camera, made the “s” sound, closed his eyes, took a breath, and finally, said, “stutter.”

Though he paused a few times, Harrington completed his remarks. “He found the courage to speak, he said, by remembering what his mom always told him: ‘Your imperfections are your gifts,’” Szuplat writes.

The observation by Harrington’s mother is key, Szuplat says. “We all have imperfections. If we let [them] keep us from speaking up and speaking out about the things we care about, then we censor ourselves. We have to embrace our imperfections, own them, love them.”

Stories have fascinated Szuplat since he was a young boy, growing up in the 1980s in East Falmouth, a small working-class town on Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Young Szuplat nerded out on politics. While his classmates lived and died with the fortunes of the Red Sox, Celtics, and Bruins, Szuplat idolized the Kennedy family, which had a family compound in nearby Hyannis Port.

Szuplat donned a suit, tie, and dress shoes to deliver a fourth-grade book report as President John F. Kennedy. He wore out the grooves in a record of JFK speeches his mom bought for him, marveling at the rhetorical flourishes of the Democratic icon and dreaming of a career in public service.

That goal drew Szuplat to �鶹��ý, where he majored in political science. “I came to AU because I wanted to be in the center of �鶹��ý politics,” he says. Coming from a family that wasn’t well-off—his father was a plumber, and his mom worked in his high school cafeteria, as a night-school secretary, and at the town library—Szuplat had to be resourceful. He patched together Pell grants, work-study jobs, scholarships, and money he’d earned mowing lawns and working at a dollar store to cover tuition.

The investment paid off. “Every class I took, every teacher prepared me for the career that I have. What I really appreciated at AU were that the classes were hands-on and practical, even when you discussed theory,” Szuplat says. He spent one winter in the Campaign Management Institute, running mock campaigns. “The professors were world-class, and I was given life-changing opportunities—internships in the White House, the US Senate, and, during a semester abroad, the British Parliament,” writes Szuplat, who this year joined the School of Public Affairs as an adjunct professor, teaching a course in political speechwriting.

Initially, Szuplat aspired to become a lawyer who argued before the Supreme Court. But his LSAT score didn’t make the cut, and as he studied to retake it, Szuplat got a speechwriting gig at the Pentagon, which he enjoyed. A new dream took hold: Maybe someday he could write for the president—a goal he achieved at age 36.

It was challenging, rewarding, stressful, and sometimes even funny.

Szuplat writes about accompanying Obama during one of his trips to Australia. The speechwriter was in the motorcade, putting the finishing touches on remarks the president would deliver to a few thousand Aussie and �鶹��ý troops. Time was running out, and Szuplat didn’t have a good opening.

He explained his predicament to the middle-aged Australian driving the Obama staff van. Immediately, the driver said, “No problem, mate. Obama should just say, ‘Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!’” It was a cheer, he said. Szuplat took the driver’s advice. Obama led with the exclamation—and, just as the Aussie predicted, the troops shouted back, “Oi! Oi! Oi!” Obama and the prime minister chuckled, a moment of warmth broadcast across the country.

“As you think through your remarks, seek out ideas from everyone,” Szuplat writes. “Writing a eulogy for your grandmother? Talk to the neighbor who saw her every day. Getting ready to speak to your city council? See what’s on the mind of your corner grocer. Preparing a presentation at work about how to make your company more efficient? Ask the receptionist or custodian—they see things every day that executives miss.”

This approach exemplifies the type of person Szuplat is, says Sarada Peri, who worked with him in the White House speechwriting shop for three years. “He’s the guy in high school who sits with the [kid] who’s by himself in the cafeteria so he won’t be alone,” Peri says. “He has a deep well of empathy, which helps him connect with people and gain their trust.”

That’s one of the attributes that helps Szuplat excel at his craft, adds Sarah Hurwitz, a speechwriter for First Lady Michelle Obama. “Terry always wants to know the real human stories behind the issues he’s writing about. I think Terry does speechwriting because he wants to tell people’s stories to help us all see each other more fully. Terry detests simple narratives about complex human beings—he’s always striving to capture the nuances and details that others often just gloss over.”

Szuplat brings what Hurwitz calls his “profound empathy” to Say It Well, offering a motivational message to readers who may be struggling to tell the story that only they can: You’ve got this.

“I hope that when people put this book down, if they’ve ever had any doubts, fears, or insecurities about standing up and saying what they believe, they’ll say to themselves, ‘I can do this.’ Whether it’s something they want to say within their family, their community, or in their country, I hope they’ll have the confidence and the skills to speak their mind.”

As you think about what to say in your presentation or speech, think about what makes you unique and the stories that only you can tell.

If you’re in a job interview, instead of giving generic responses that anyone can give, use each answer to share a specific example—a (short!) story from your work or life that shows you have the skills or experience they’re looking for.

If you’re honoring someone you love or admire—with a toast, a tribute, or a eulogy—what are two or three (brief!) stories from your relationship that capture their essence as a person? Tell those stories.

If you’re going to speak up at a community meeting or a rally, why are you there? Why do you care? Share a story of how this issue impacts you, your family, your community.

If you’re an advocate—making your case to donors or trying to recruit volunteers—what’s your origin story? Why and how did you become involved in this cause? Share the story of someone you know whose life has been touched or saved by your work.

If you’re an entrepreneur or a business executive—seeking capital from investors, wooing new customers, or rallying your employees—what’s your company’s founding story? Why and how did you start the business? What obstacles have you overcome? What are the stories—of your employees, your products, your customers—that set your company apart from the competition?

If you’re a candidate asking for someone’s vote, what’s unique about your story? Where your family came from? Your childhood? How did your life experiences shape your outlook and your policies? What can you say that no other candidate can say?

If you aspire to be a “thought leader” in your profession or industry, be warned: �鶹��ý speeches and sharing your thoughts is not enough. People are recognized as leaders after they achieve something tangible. My recommendation: First do the work. Get results. Make change. Then tell the story of how you did it—and how others can too. That’s how you become a leader who’s admired for your thoughts.

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�鶹��ý Magazine �鶹��ý

�鶹��ý Magazine

Stand and Deliver

As you think about what to say in your presentation or speech, think about what makes you unique and the stories that only you can tell.