‘I Am the Next Big Thing’
It’s not even 7 a.m., and Michael J. Herman is a whirlwind of positive energy--pacing, whispering to himself and sizing up the audience he’s about to face.
Fewer than 20 people showed for this Burbank Rotary Club breakfast meeting. And although he gets only $300 for a speech like this, Herman is warming up to the group as if they paid 10 times that much. He checks out the room for light, acoustics, seating. When he finally takes the floor, Michael J. Herman is Mr. Motivation.
He beams as the audience laughs at all the right places and applauds when he’s through. One woman asks whether he’d consider talking to her sales group sometime. Herman hands her his card--”speaker, author, trainer, coach, entrepreneur, humorist and motivator!”--and she promises to call. He heads back to his home office in Encino, scribbling inspirational notes to himself along the way.
“I am the next big thing,” he turns and declares. “I am in the process. It may not be true to you, but it is for me. And in the business of motivation, that’s all that matters.”
If there’s a silver lining, a happy ending or an inspirational message to be found, Michael J. Herman will finesse it, package it and sell it.
There are an estimated 50,000 people trying to break into the motivational-speaking business--legions of Michael J. Hermans deciding to take the microphone, inspired by the country’s insatiable appetite for motivation, direction and plain old pep talks.
Companies big and small have bought into the trend with bookings and seminars and motivational workshops, all of which were responsible last year for putting professional speakers in touch with more than 25 million Americans.
“There is an incredible desire out there to be goaded, spurred or kicked swiftly in the rear,” said Mark Goulston, a Los Angeles psychiatrist and author.
In the last three years, Herman has been hired to motivate workers at such companies as 3M, Toyota, Lockheed Martin and Boeing, and he pens a daily column, via the Internet, called “The Motivational Minute!” that has, so far, 23 corporate subscribers.
Like countless others, Herman dreams of being the next Tony Robbins, a Californian who came from a broken home, grew up poor and has since become one of the richest and most recognizable figures in the self-help market. Robbins was everyman, and now he is the man, able to pack Madison Square Garden with paying followers and fly in his Learjet to any number of island homes.
But by the Tony Robbins standard that is so often referred to in this industry, Michael J. Herman is an unpolished rookie. He drives an older-model Camry, lives in a nondescript apartment and wears untailored linen suits. His promotional literature is riddled with typos, printed directly from a clunky home computer. His Web site is down more than it’s up.
However earnest, however intent he may be on propelling people to be amazing or to become the complete champion or to overcome failure, odds are he’ll never reach “celebrity-speaker” status, or draw thousands of people into an arena at $250 a pop. Chances are he’ll never be on TV or get rich selling motivational tapes and books.
And yet Herman, a 35-year-old bachelor, presses on, seemingly undaunted. His bookshelves overflow with titles that encapsulate his passion: “The Joy of Failure,” “How to Say It,” “Ten Ways to Stay Super-Motivated in the Business Game.” He plasters notes to himself all over his apartment walls, doors and cupboards: “Mike, remember whatever it is, wherever you’re going--You can do it!” He is on the phone, on the computer, on the move--networking, networking, networking.
Never mind that Herman’s resume doesn’t exactly qualify him to motivate sales staffs or help chief executives deal with an earnings slump or boost morale during a merger. He’s never worked in the corporate world. He’s never even been a manager.
None of which is unusual for professional speakers. There are only so many Colin Powells and Lee Iacoccas to go around. What’s left are regular folks who believe they have something to say and somehow get paid to say it.
“You don’t have to have a doctorate or be a professional athlete to make it in this field,” said Deanna Berg, an Atlanta-based psychologist who studies motivation. “In fact, many people want to hear speakers who are more like themselves, not the larger-than-life figures.”
These days, companies put so much stock in the value of motivational speaking that credentials take a back seat to more pressing questions: “Are you available and what’s your fee?”
“I can’t believe how many companies will dole out big bucks for pure fluff in the way of motivational speaking,” said Alysia Vanitzian, vice president of training and development for Employers Group, the nation’s largest employers association.
Even in a slowing economy, executives seem loath to cut back.
For instance, at Boeing Co. in Canoga Park, where Herman has twice been invited to speak to some 500 workers about leadership, executives say motivational training has transformed the workplace. The company budgets about $150,000 annually to keep the speakers coming through.
“I want to make people think and feel. This is what a motivational speaker is supposed to do,” Herman said. “I think I’m an up-and-comer. I haven’t yet hit my stride and I stumble sometimes. But I score far more frequently.”
‘Motivators, Not Manipulators’
Breaking into the speaking business is not terribly difficult.
Most of the 4,000 members of the National Speakers Assn. are middle-aged, on their second careers and make a decent living by stringing together speeches at the local chamber of commerce or Rotary Club. To join the association, speakers must first give 20 paid presentations in 24 months--hardly impossible given the craving people have for learning how to regain emotional strength.
Few members, though, ever see the big money. About 8%, or 320 members, have earned the group’s “Certified Speaking Professional” title, which is awarded when they give 250 presentations, make $250,000 in five years and have at least 100 client testimonials.
“You can’t print up business cards saying you’re a doctor and then go out and get patients,” said association President Chris Clarke-Epstein. “But anyone can launch a Web site, get some letterhead and say they’re a professional speaker. That’s why [the association] has the membership requirements that it does. We want to distinguish ourselves as motivators, not manipulators.”
Like most entrepreneurs, motivational speakers aim to claim a niche. Some base their messages on themes, such as failure, change, stress or leadership. Many focus on sales.
Herman claims a bunch of niches. He is a self-described “melting pot” of inspiration and expertise. When he was 5, he fell 12 feet while playing in the rafters of a friend’s garage and suffered temporary blindness and paralysis.
“We didn’t think he’d live,” said his mother, Jeri Herman. “But that fall, it changed him. He’s been a fighter ever since.”
Now Herman spins stories of his recovery and rehabilitation into lessons on overcoming obstacles and perseverance. He tells audiences how he refused to use a walker after the accident and how his stubbornness resulted in his repeatedly “falling on my face.” He confides how he wanted the slight twitch in his face to go away so badly that he stood in front of a mirror for three hours willing it to stop.
Somehow, Herman tailors these and other lessons so they apply to the corporate world or a sales staff or a group of real estate agents. The moral to his walker story? Don’t be afraid to fall down, just as long as you get back up! The twitch story? Believe in yourself, and you can do anything! Even one of Herman’s residual disabilities--he lacks peripheral vision--is transformed into: Stay focused on your goals!
“My life story is great motivation for others, I think,” Herman said. “It instantly establishes me as an authority on all kinds of subjects. It’s through my story that people hear, ‘Hey, if he can do all that, my problems are nothing!’ ”
‘Choose to Lose’
He didn’t start out thinking he could be a professional orator. He wanted to make movies. But like a good number of motivational speakers, Herman was propelled into the industry at the encouragement of others. A friend who heard him tell a story, a group of co-workers who heard him give an impromptu speech. Suddenly it seemed everyone was telling him he had a gift.
Indeed, Herman has managed to earn a loyal following, particularly among the nearly two dozen companies that pay as much as $400 a month to receive his daily “Motivational Minute!” and distribute it to their employees. The short, uplifting columns are one of the first e-mails received each morning and give workers “an instant attitude adjustment,” said Simon Atkins, corporate director of Advanced Forecasting Corp. in Wilmington, Del.
“It’s always a positive message that says a lot about the little things in life that we sometimes take for granted,” said Atkins, noting about 50 employees at the weather risk-management firm read the column each day. “I truly believe it brings increased work flow, better employee relations and a terrific return on investment, when you consider that happier workers bring more revenue to a company.”
Such praise is a far cry from Herman’s professional speaking debut five years ago, when he booked a speech for a group of Orange County real estate agents and charged them $1,500.
“They said, ‘We only have $500,’ ” Herman recalled. “I said, ‘OK.’ When you’re young and hungry and need the experience, pride goes out the window.”
Herman prefers to charge $2,000 to $3,500 per presentation but has difficulty getting that much. He supplements his income with column subscriptions and career coaching, which costs $100 per session and is usually done over the phone.
“My mother keeps asking me when I’m going to get a real job,” Herman said. “But I know the money’s there. I’m on the brink of it, I just know it.”
Thousands of others think so too. Some, like George Campbell of Norman, Okla., have already found their niche and taken off. Campbell, whose stage name is Joe Malarkey, boasts that he is the “Worst Motivational Speaker in America”--a title that has made him rich. The 43-year-old went from being a stand-up comedian on the nightclub circuit to charging companies $7,500 a pop to hear him give a 45-minute speech on failure.
“I figured there wasn’t a heck of a lot I could talk about, seeing as I have virtually no credentials that qualify me to do this,” Campbell said, slightly amazed after six years that he is making a living. “So I go out there, make them laugh, make fun of my profession, and then, if there’s any time left, I’ll throw in an uplifting message or two.”
Campbell averages about 80 speeches a year. He says his “Choose to Lose” theme is a hit because it doesn’t feel like an inspirational speech. In fact, one of the first things he tells audiences is that he is unlike any motivational speaker they’ve ever heard before--a remark that generally draws applause.
“There are some negative stereotypes that come with being a motivational speaker,” Campbell said. “That said, it’s also a billion-dollar industry. People eat this stuff up. Do I think I personally make a difference in their lives? I don’t know, but the phone sure keeps ringing.”
Motivating One Another
At a National Speakers Assn. conference in San Francisco last month, 500 members filled a banquet room and attended workshops designed to polish their speaking skills. There were speakers on all levels, from Michael J. Herman to Mary Sue Koontz Nelson, a flashy Texas ranch owner who said she charges “a fortune” for the speeches she gives on success and personal improvement.
“This is where the egos come out,” drawled Koontz Nelson. “We’re all A-types, talkers, thinking we’re the next big thing. I can’t believe any of us can get a word in edgewise.”
They exchanged ideas, business cards and success stories. They fed off one another in a frenzy, snapping up one another’s tapes and books and studying one another’s style. In true industry fashion, they were motivating one another.
Maureen Keene, a Las Vegas real estate agent and two-year member, went to the conference looking for confidence. She wants to make a career as a professional speaker who focuses on reducing stress and worry, but she’s unsure how to make the leap. For assistance, she bought Herman’s tape, called “The Motivational Adventure!”
“I loved it,” Keene said. “It seems to me like he’s one of the chosen ones. He made me realize not only that I can make this transition, but that I can make it successfully.”
For such a competitive industry, the association’s members generously dole out advice to one another. They give seminars on humor, marketing and how to land more speeches. There are workshops on how to stay motivated, how to publish a book, what to charge for a speech.
Herman blazed through them all, suddenly inspired to set a new goal for himself: get, by year’s end, a million readers to the “Motivational Minute!” which now has fewer than half that.
“I know I can do it,” he said, more to himself than anyone. “I am a writer, and I have something to say! I can help people be amazing. I can, and I will.”
