If you’re reading this, there’s a good chance you’ve been performing the same piece since this fall. Your script is memorized. You know every judge reaction. You’ve done the final round. Maybe you’ve won a few. And now, for some reason, it’s just… not hitting.
This is called a speech slump. Everyone hits one eventually. Especially in spring, when the season is dragging and most of the big national tournaments are still a few weeks away. So what now?
You don’t need a new piece. You need a reset. Here’s how.
1. Stop coasting
At some point, your piece stops feeling new. That doesn’t mean it’s bad or broken. It means you’re not discovering anything in it anymore. You’re performing the same version of the piece you built months ago, and your brain is bored of it.
So stop coasting. That means cutting the autopilot. Start thinking again. Ask:
What do i feel when i say this line?
Is there a moment where i could change the pacing?
Have i stopped reacting to the moment?
Find a section that doesn’t feel exciting anymore. Reblock it. Rewrite it. Say it in a new tone. Try it out loud in three different ways. You don’t have to keep the change, but you do have to shake it up.
2. Give your piece a break
Take one week off from performing it completely.
Seriously. If you’ve been doing this piece for 6+ months, give yourself space to miss it. Don’t practice it. Don’t even think about it. Focus on drills, debate prep, extemp practice, or judging novices. Anything but that piece.
When you come back to it, you’ll probably be surprised how much you remember, and how many new things you see in it. That space helps reset your brain. It also gives you the chance to reconnect with the why behind the piece, not just the how.
3. Cut the crutches
This part’s hard to admit: sometimes, what used to work isn’t working anymore. Maybe it’s that one joke that used to get laughs. Or the cry face you pull in that last paragraph. If it feels forced now, cut it. Audiences can tell when something’s not real anymore.
Look at the parts of your piece that feel like routine. If it doesn’t serve the emotion anymore, take it out. Try being still. Try changing the volume. Try giving less.
A good piece evolves. You’re allowed to outgrow how you used to do it.
4. Let someone new watch it
Not a judge. Not your coach. Find someone who’s never seen the piece and ask them to watch it. You’ll perform differently because you know they don’t have expectations. They don’t know where it’s “supposed” to be good. They’ll only see what’s actually there.
Even if they don’t give notes, just having fresh eyes on it helps. You’ll notice things you haven’t in months.
And if they do give feedback, listen. Even the small stuff. Especially the small stuff.
5. Get in front of people more
If you haven’t competed since some time in the winter, you’re out of rhythm. That’s not your fault. The spring tournament calendar leaves weird gaps. But don’t let that gap turn into rust.
Find places to perform:
Local middle schools (they love interps)
Community centers
Family gatherings
Run your speech at practice, even if no one else is doing it that day
The more you perform, the more natural it’ll feel. You’re not trying to memorize anymore. You’re trying to connect.
6. Remember why you chose this piece
Go back to the first draft. The raw file. The brainstorm doc. The note on your phone that said “what if i wrote about caregiving but made it funny.”
Re-read it.
You started this piece for a reason. What was it?
Bring that reason back to the front. Write it on a sticky note and slap it on your folder. Say it to yourself before each round. You’re not just trying to qualify. You’re trying to say something that mattered to you once. It can still matter now.
7. Stop expecting it to feel good every time
Some rounds are just flat. It doesn’t mean your speech is bad or your season’s over. It means you’re human. You’re not a machine. Not every round is going to feel like finals at Harvard.
You can give a great round and still feel off. You can feel amazing and still get straight 3s. Let go of the need for every round to feel right. Focus on doing the work. The results will catch up.
One last thing: slumps don’t last forever
They feel endless. But they aren’t. Most of the time, the slump breaks right before your next big tournament, because you pushed through it. You reconnected. You stopped faking it. You started caring again.
Keep showing up. Keep doing the work. And give yourself some grace. This is hard. But you’ve made it this far.
The slump doesn’t mean you’re done. It means you’re almost there.
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