Career··3 min read

My First Conference Talk

From the proposal to the moment my mind went blank on stage — documenting everything

I Submitted a Talk Proposal

Last year I submitted a talk proposal to FEConf. The topic: "A Frontend Performance Optimization War Story." Honestly, I submitted it expecting to get rejected. Not enough experience, no speaking record, not a well-known developer. When the acceptance email arrived 2 weeks later, fear hit me before excitement.

(I regretted submitting that proposal roughly 17 times.)

Preparation: 6 Weeks of Pain

Making the slides alone took 3 weeks. The first version was 60 slides. Too long, so I cut it to 35. Every time I removed content, I felt the pull of "but this is important too..." Cutting it down actually made the core message clearer.

I rehearsed solo 8 times. In front of a mirror, in front of a camera, in front of colleagues. The first rehearsal ran 38 minutes. The slot was 25. I needed to trim 13 more minutes. The hardest part was managing time. I didn't want to cut content, but the clock was fixed.

The Day: My Mind Went Blank

When I arrived at the venue, there were about 200 people in the audience. The moment I stepped on stage and grabbed the mic, my heart was pounding out of my chest. I tried to say my opening sentence and my mind went completely blank. There were about 3 seconds of silence. From the audience's perspective, it probably wasn't long. But on stage, 3 seconds felt like 3 minutes.

Thankfully, once I got past the first sentence, the rest flowed. The prepared material came out automatically. All those rehearsals saved me.

There Were Mistakes

I did a live demo in the middle, and naturally it didn't work as planned. The dev server took a while to load, and the screen was blank for 10 seconds. I laughed it off with "just a moment, the network's a bit slow" — but internally I was drenched in cold sweat. Next time, I'm pre-recording the demo video.

I also spotted a typo on a slide. Saw "asynce" during the talk and briefly panicked. But the audience didn't seem to care. There are things only the speaker notices.

Audience Reaction

During Q&A, I got 3 questions. Some were expected, some weren't. For things I didn't know, I honestly said "I'm not sure about that, but I'll look into it and write it up on my blog." Admitting ignorance felt awkward, but I figured it was better than faking it and being wrong.

There was some buzz on Twitter. "It was relatable because it was based on real experience" was the comment that made me happiest. Negative reactions? I'd like to say there were none, but one person wrote "the content was a bit shallow" and that stung. Looking back, they were right. I need to go deeper.

(I probably read that comment 3 times. I know I should stop looking, but I keep going back.)

What Changed After the Talk

I got one more line on my resume. But more importantly, I gained the confidence that "I can actually do this." Before the talk, I thought conference speakers were "special people." After doing it myself, I realized anyone can. As long as you prepare enough.

If you ask whether I'd do it again — yes. But I'm certain I'll be nervous again. I don't think there'll ever be a day when speaking feels comfortable. I think it's about learning to do it while nervous.

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