推薦序
Diana Watson唐華瑄來台13年，去年參加一場國語演講比賽，過程中生動活潑手勢和幽默輕鬆口吻，將台灣生活點滴和台下聽眾親切互動，流利的中文贏得滿堂喝采拿下幽默演講第一名。影片月中被放上影音分享網站Youtube後爆紅，點閱率兩周餘已破百萬。－蘋果日報
Diana is masterful with her words but when it comes to writing about her passion, she is mesmerizing! Her expertise in her subject is unquestionable and is made all the more interesting by
the humour that peppers her writing.-Deepak Menon, DTM 2018-2019 International President-Elect
作者序
“Always do what you are afraid to do.”— Ralph Waldo Emerson
Wintertime is my favorite season in Taiwan... if I don’t think about all the mosquitoes, of course. From April until November, the non-stop scorching humid weather drains all of my energy and
makes my air conditioner my best friend. But with the winter comes cool breezes, 5 p.m. sunsets, and the chance to wear something other than tank tops and sandals. On this particular winter
day, I had carefully chosen a nice blouse and comfortable pants, seeing as I was going to be nervous giving my first speech in a foreign language.
I was about to deliver a presentation in Mandarin at a Toastmasters club where all of the members were Taiwanese locals. The more I thought about what I was doing, the more worried I got.
“Girl, even though you hate it sometimes,” I reminded myself, “you are a challenge junkie!” Since I was a child, I’ve forced myself to do things that I was afraid to do because I wanted to be
better, stronger, different from others.
I kept scratching the sides of my legs even though they weren’t itching. My stomach felt like I had eaten french fries slathered in tons of grease. My heart was pounding so fast I thought I
would have a heart attack. But before I had a chance to convince myself that this all was a crazy idea and make a run for the exit, the last speaker finished. All eyes were now on me like
searchlights in the dark.
I got out of my chair and peered at my audience before I went to the front of the room. I hadn’t been this nervous since I lost my virginity. My stomach rumbled like it was full of rocks
while the Toastmaster (the master of ceremonies for the evening) introduced me. I was one of the first foreigners to join their club in over 15 years. Fifteen years? I realized at that moment
that I was not a smart person.
I had spent the past two weeks practicing my short, four-minute speech with my Taiwanese roommate and my tutor. To be prepared, I thought it would be great if I wrote out my speech on four
small pieces of poorly designed Snoopy paper. It was blue, adorned with graph lines that went all the way out to the edges of each sheet.
After I wrote the speech in English, I wrote it out in pinyin (Mandarin written in the Roman alphabet). While I practiced giving the speech, I soon became aware that I couldn’t read pinyin
that well. My sentences were simple, but my pronunciation and tones sounded like I was singing a horrible heavy metal song rather than a flowing Chinese opera. For the past two weeks, I had
done nothing but practice my speech. I had tried to get my voice to climb high like a soprano, to stay high and flat on that mountaintop, to charge down quickly into a deep pit, to roll up and
down like a roller coaster... But still, my erratic pauses caused me to stumble over phrases and skip parts of the speech. In short, even though I had practiced non-stop for two weeks, my
delivery still sucked, and I knew it. Between the ridiculous papers I had clutched in my hands and my poor Mandarin reading skills, I felt certain that my speech was doomed.
I looked around the room. It was small enough to make me visible to everyone, but large enough that only the people sitting in the first few rows would be able to see my hands shake and my
lips quiver. I began speaking, my eyes focused on a black spot I saw on the ceiling towards the back of the room — probably a roach. I figured that if I centered on that roach, then I wouldn’t
see the faces of my audience, and I wouldn’t lose my place on my graph-lined Snoopy paper and wind up suddenly stopping. Becoming a silent statue would be the worst-case scenario. Yes, looking
at something that normally grosses me out was definitely a good idea, I decided.
At the end of my speech, I finally mustered the courage to look at my audience. I couldn’t believe it. All eyes were on me. Not a single person was looking at their watch or their cell phone.
That was when I realized that Toastmasters clubs provide the perfect atmosphere for people to practice foreign language public speaking. Even if you deliver an almost incomprehensible speech,
like I did, your listeners will be patient and attentive because none of them want to appear rude or, worse yet, miss out on something.
Those were the longest four minutes of my life... And then the silent pause after my speech was deafening. I guess my audience needed time to process my speech just as much I needed time to
process the fact that I had completed my first speech in Mandarin. I thought to myself, “Finally, Diana, after two-and-a-half years of countless hours of study and practice, you can make a
speech that locals can understand.” Then, to my surprise, everyone stood up and clapped. I wanted to cry. Perhaps I did cry. I can’t remember what I did exactly, but I do remember that I didn’t
die from a heart attack like I thought I would. Instead, I scanned the faces around the room and saw only smiles and applause.
That speech — my first one delivered in a language other than English — was over a decade ago. Ever since then, I’ve been digging my shovel into the earth of foreign language public speaking.
I’ve become a Speaking Seed.
