IN an era where communication has been reduced to emojis, hurried texts and voice notes recorded while dodging potholes, the art of writing a proper speech is slowly becoming endangered.
Yet speech remains one of the most powerful tools of influence ever created.
From village gatherings to global conferences, speeches have shaped decisions, sparked revolutions, healed nations and inspired generations.
And so, while the world grows noisier, the need for well-crafted speeches becomes even more urgent.
Writing a speech is not merely jotting down paragraphs to be read aloud. It is a deliberate act of craftsmanship, balancing creativity, clarity and persuasion.
A good speech is like mbira music. It is simple on the surface, yet layered, rhythmic and deeply moving.
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It tells a story, carries a heartbeat and leaves an echo long after the words have faded.
But to craft such a speech, one must begin with purpose. Every great speech answers a simple question: What am I trying to achieve? Am I informing? Persuading? Motivating? Entertaining?
That said, without a clear purpose, a speech becomes like a traveller walking without a destination.
Audience awareness is the next essential ingredient. A speech for university executives cannot sound the same as a speech for high school students, just as you cannot address elders in the village the same way you address your friends at a braai.
Audience determines the tone, language, examples and even the humour. A speech that fails to consider its audience risks becoming a monologue.
Once purpose and audience are clear, the speechwriter must choose a central theme. Think of it as the thread that holds a beaded necklace together. Without the thread, the beads scatter.
A memorable theme gives the speech unity and direction. Every point, story and example must connect back to that theme. This discipline keeps the speech focused and prevents it from becoming a lecture stuffed with unrelated ideas.
Structure is what gives a speech its spine. Typically, a speech has three essential parts: the introduction, the body and the conclusion.
The introduction must capture attention immediately. It is the handshake, the first impression, the spark.
Whether you use a startling statistic, a short anecdote, a rhetorical question or a powerful quote, the goal is to draw listeners in and make them curious.
The body is the engine room. It is a series of clear, well-supported points. Here, storytelling works wonders. People forget statistics, but they remember stories: the villager who planted trees before it was fashionable; the teacher who changed lives; the struggle that led to a breakthrough. Evidence matters, but emotion carries it home.
Transitions are underrated but vital. They guide listeners from one idea to the next, preventing confusion and maintaining rhythm.
In speechwriting, flow is everything. Listeners cannot reread sentences; they only experience the speech once, in real time. So, clarity becomes a form of respect.
The conclusion is the final drumbeat — the part that should linger in the mind like a song you cannot shake off. It should reinforce the central message and end with impact, whether through a call to action, a memorable line or a thought-provoking insight.
Rhetorical devices such as repetition, metaphors, analogies, parallelism add flavour to a speech. They are salt and seasoning. Overdo them and the speech becomes dramatic; use them wisely and the message becomes unforgettable.
Of course, even the best-written speech collapses without proper delivery. Practising aloud is essential — feeling the rhythm, marking the pauses, emphasising key words.
Body language, eye contact and voice modulation all matter. A speech delivered without energy is like sadza without relish — it is technically food but not satisfying.
The tragedy of our time is that we underestimate speeches. We rush them. We outsource them. We think we can improvise greatness five minutes before stepping on the podium. Yet history shows otherwise: powerful speeches are crafted, revised, rehearsed and lived.
To revive the art of speechwriting, we must return to the basics: purpose, audience, structure, rhythm, emotion and delivery.
A good speech is not just heard — it is felt. It connects, challenges and compels. In a world drowning in shallow communication, a well-written speech remains a beacon of clarity and inspiration.
Perhaps that is the irony of modern communication: with all our technology, what still moves hearts and minds is the oldest tool of all — spoken words, shaped with care.