"I realized this morning that your event content is the only event-related 'stuff' I still read. I think that's because it's not about events, but about the coming together of people to exchange ideas and learn from one another and that's valuable information for anyone." — Traci Browne
Big-name keynote speakers don’t make your event memorable.
In fact, they’re probably sabotaging both your budget and your attendees’ experience.
I’ve spent decades designing and facilitating conferences that people rave about. Along the way, I’ve watched countless organizers spend hundreds of thousands of dollars securing “top-tier” keynote speakers—only to discover that attendees barely remember what was said, let alone find ways to apply it. Meanwhile, the actual time attendees spend connecting, learning from one another, and getting what they came for is limited, under-designed, or completely absent.
It doesn’t have to be this way.
There’s a better way to spend your money—and your time.
It’s time to kill the keynote.
The real emotional experience of a keynote
Think about the last keynote you attended. Maybe the speaker was charismatic. Maybe the story was moving. But what happened next?
You clapped.
You left the room.
You remembered a line or two (maybe).
And then you forgot about it.
Keynotes are emotional performances. They make people feel, which has value. But those feelings are typically transient, passive, and unshared. Keynotes are one-way delivery.
What if, instead, your attendees:
☞Felt that they mattered?
☞Arrived to find a conference built around their real wants, needs, and questions?
☞Talked to each other more than they were talked at?
☞Left not just inspired, but changed?
Changed by:
☞Learning about what they actually came to learn. ☞The connections they made that had real value. ☞Becoming part of a community that truly mattered to them.
From stage to circle: Spend less, deliver more
When you shift your investment from keynote stages to meeting design and facilitation, you don’t just reduce costs—you multiply the value.
For a fraction of what you’d pay a big-name speaker, you can:
Design participatory sessions that attendees shape and co-create.
Facilitate peer learning that surfaces untapped expertise already in the room.
Foster real connection and trust—what attendees often say is the best part of an event.
Build long-term loyalty and community because people feel seen, heard, and engaged.
When participants have the chance to speak, listen, learn, and collaborate, they leave saying:
“That was the best conference I’ve ever attended.”
And they mean it.
Don’t keep this a secret
Here’s the kicker: Events designed for genuine interaction and transformation don’t just feel better—they perform better.
Sadly, too often, meeting conveners don’t know that better is possible. Or if they do, they’re afraid to give up the safety of the keynote model.
So don’t keep this a secret. If you’ve attended or created a participatory event that blew you away, share that story. If you’re a planner or convener, talk to your peers about rethinking the formula. And if you’re ready to move beyond the one-way stage model, reach out—I’d love to help.
You don’t need a famous name to make your event unforgettable. You need the courage to design for connection, not celebrities.
And that starts by asking not, “Who will wow the audience?” but, “What learning, connection, and community will we create—together?”
How can we best support our peers? Two powerful approaches are learning from shared stories and engaging in one-on-one conversations. But is one more effective than the other?
This question came up recently during an Association Chatweekly group conversation. As we discussed challenges association professionals face, one of us shared how impactful it can be for them to hear individual stories from peers with relevant life experiences. related to their association or independent work. They proposed collecting and sharing these stories as a resource to help others navigating similar paths.
I agreed that shared stories can offer valuable insights. But in association work, where individual journeys, roles, and organizational dynamics differ greatly, I believe that one-on-one peer conversations and mentoring are even more powerful. These direct exchanges allow for real-time support tailored to the listener’s unique situation, something static stories can rarely achieve.
The Power of Peer Conversation
This idea is backed by recent data. A survey of association, corporate, and nonprofit event professionals conducted by Fuse, JDC Events, and Bear Analytics—“Future-Ready Events: A Blueprint for Connection, Growth, and Innovation”—highlighted the value of interactive formats:
“When it comes to fostering community at events, survey responses reveal that formats emphasizing interpersonal connection, collaboration, and practical learning rank far above entertainment or promotional content.” —Future-Ready Events: A Blueprint for Connection, Growth, and Innovation
Here’s how the meeting planners ranked the effectiveness of content formats at their meetings:
The four top-listed formats all involve peer conversation and interaction. “Inspirational Talks”—the sharing of stories—ranked fifth, with only a 10.6% effectiveness ranking.
The study’s broader findings align with this. It emphasizes that successful events “foster deeper loyalty, connection, and long-term impact.”
“The key lies in fostering a true sense of belonging and community, a sentiment that 42.6% of planners cited as the top priority for driving return attendance, and 52.9% included in their top two.”
In other words, what people need most at events—and, I would argue, in professional life—is authentic human connection. Not just curated narratives, but real-time, mutual presence. Conversation creates a space where people feel seen, heard, and supported. A space where they can receive and offer support and mentorship.
When we want to support our peers, stories matter. But dialogue meets people where they are.
After four decades of founding associations, serving on non-profit boards, and designing and facilitating countless association meetings, I’ve seen a lot. Enough, in fact, to spot patterns—especially when things go wrong. Earlier this year, I documented three common-but-overlooked mistakes associations make. Here are three more “Don’t do that!” from the frontlines of planning association events.
1—Don’t contract your venue before designing your event!
More often than not, clients ask me to help design a meeting after they’ve already signed a venue contract. Here’s why that happens, and why it’s a mistake.
Venue selection typically happens early in the event planning process—before budgeting, marketing, and F&B planning begin. But designing a thoughtful meeting process often gets overlooked or delayed, especially when the people convening the event aren’t familiar with participatory formats. So, they default to traditional workflows and bring me in post-contract, overlooking the need to think about how desired meeting outcomes might affect venue choice..
Meeting planners and venue staff are comfortable determining space needs for traditional events once they know:
the type of event;
the number of attendees; and
the meeting duration.
But they rarely understand what’s required for participant-driven and participation-rich meetings, which typically need:
larger general session rooms, to allow movement and eye contact; and
more flexible and plentiful breakout spaces for small group interaction.
The result? About 95% of the time, the contracted venue requires compromises to accommodate interactive formats. Sometimes I can design around it. Sometimes the contract has to be renegotiated (cue planner shudder). And sometimes, the event just doesn’t deliver what it could have.
Avoid this entirely. Design the event first. Then choose your venue. You’ll save money and frustration, and ensure your space supports your goals.
2—Don’t call your event an “unconference” because it sounds cool!
Lately, I’ve noticed more event marketers using “unconference” to describe traditional conferences. Don’t do this. There’s a meaningful difference.
Here’s how Wikipedia defines an unconference:
“An unconference is a participant-driven meeting.” “Typically at an unconference, the agenda is created by the attendees at the beginning of the meeting.” —Unconference, Wikipedia
Sorry, folks, but that’s not what happens when you use pre-event surveys or curate the program in advance. That’s not an unconference—it’s a conference.
I have been convening and facilitating unconferences (I prefer the term peer conferences, but no one else cares) since 1992. Why? Because they provide a far better conference experience. They give attendees what they actually want in real time—something no program committee or conference “curator” can predict.
“In my twenty years of organizing conferences, I’ve never found a program committee that predicted more than half of the session topics that conference attendees chose when they were given the choice. During that time I’ve seen no evidence that any one person, whether they are given the title of “curator” or not, can put together a conference program that can match what attendees actually need and want. —Jeremy Lin and the myth of the conference curator, February, 2012
Just about every unconference I’ve convened or attended has brought to light participants whose valuable knowledge, expertise, experience, and contributions were unknown to the conveners (and most, if not all, of the attendees). You can’t do this effectively at a traditional conference with a predetermined program.
So, if you’re a marketer, stop using “unconference” as an event marketing buzzword. We’re not selling cereal here. As Robert Kreitner says, “Buzzwords…drive out good ideas.” Unconferences are participant-driven, which involves building the program in real-time during the event. Having (well-designed) discussion sessions during an event is great, but that doesn’t make a meeting an unconference.
And if you’re a conference convener, learn about what unconferences actually are before calling your event one. (Any of my books will give you detailed information about these meeting formats and how well they work.)
I care about how people use the word “unconference” because I’ve met too many folks who believe that an event billed as an unconference must be one. Then they attend and are underwhelmed. I’d hate to see unconferences suffer because marketing folks use the word as a way to make an event sound hip and sophisticated. So don’t call your event an “unconference” because it sounds cool!
3—Don’t run an “unconference track” at your event!
Here’s the problem with offering an unconference track alongside conventional sessions: very few people will choose it.
Why?
Most people have never experienced an unconference session (one shaped on the spot by the needs, experience, and expertise of the people present).
Passive, lecture-style formats comprise the vast majority of people’s formal learning experiences. If you haven’t previously experienced an unconference session, you’re probably skeptical that it’ll be useful to you.
Faced with the unfamiliar, people usually opt for the safer choice.
So what happens? The unconference track is sparsely attended. The skeptics nod smugly: “I told you it wouldn’t work.”
It turns out that when a participant-led session or sessions are the only conference activities going on, people dive in, and nearly everyone likes what occurs. But when you give people a choice between what’s familiar and what’s not, all but the bravest take the safer path.
Want participant-led sessions to succeed? Make participant-led sessions plenaries or simultaneous breakouts.
Don’t treat them as an experiment. Own them. You don’t have to make unconference sessions 100% of your conference, but there should be no other type of conference activity going on at the same time. Dedicate a morning, afternoon, day, or days to well-designed participant-led sessions. Then, you’ll see just how well these increasingly popular formats can work.
Mistakes associations make
These three common mistakes associations make spring from good intentions. But they’re still mistakes. If you want to create meaningful, effective events, you need to rethink the defaults. And start designing from the experience you want to create, not the contracts, categories, or conventions you’ve inherited.
[A version of this article, “Associations: don’t do that! — Part 2”, appeared in Association Chat Magazine, Volume 2, Issue 2, May 2025. This version includes additional links to resources.]
In a May 8, 2025, post, the always insightful Dave Lutz shared some deeply troubling statistics on the current state of the meetings industry. I’ve emphasized a few of the more sobering takeaways and added a couple of links for context:
“Pre-pandemic, top-performing annual meetings and trade shows that we analyzed yielded a gross profit of 55–65 percent. In 2024, the gross profit for those same events was down by 20 points. For this purpose, gross profit is calculated by subtracting direct event expenses (not including salaries, overhead, or allocations) from gross event revenue and then dividing by gross event revenue.”
“While many major events have nearly recovered on the revenue side, the primary culprit for a lower gross profit is the significant increase — about 30 percent — in expenses. For some associations, this means that millions of dollars of funding for advocacy and member services will therefore need to be cut or reallocated. That results in increased oversight and pressure for event leaders like you.
Most reports claim that our industry has recovered to pre-pandemic levels. While that may be true for our hospitality partners, only 29 percent of the event planner respondents to PCMA’s Annual Meeting Market Survey said attendance at their largest in-person meeting was on par with pre-pandemic levels and one out of five planners said attendance was lower than 2019. On the flip side, nearly half (49 percent) said attendance was higher — a better picture than CEIR’s Q3 2024 Index Results, which found that only 34 percent of events surpassed their pre-pandemic performance levels. In Q2, attendance performed better — 44 percent surpassed their pre-pandemic attendance levels. —Dave Lutz, Growing Your Credibility
Ouch.
From my perspective as a meeting designer who works closely with event owners, this data is unsettling. In 2025, many are facing a brutal combination: revenues that remain flat, while expenses have jumped by 30%.
Yes, we’re holding in-person meetings again, approximately as many as we did before COVID, but most event owners are clearly still in a tough financial bind. With limited, if any, revenue growth, they are being forced to scale back the very services that make their events successful.
I’ve felt it myself. Before COVID, I was often overbooked. In 2025, the demand for my services—designing and facilitating meetings that people love—is down significantly. I still do meaningful, satisfying work with excellent clients. But I’m doing far less of it.
When meeting owners have to trim expenses to avoid going into the red, value-add service providers become easy, if regrettable, cuts.
And I doubt I’m alone.
Are you a meeting owner struggling to make the numbers work? Are you a supplier feeling the impact of today’s leaner events?
Please share your thoughts and experiences in the comments. Let’s learn from one another.
Blog post concepts. Fresh angles on my facilitation process. Insightful links between my retreat experience and my ikigai, my reason for being.
Each idea was a gift. And a distraction.
I wanted to grab a pen. If I didn’t write them down, they’d vanish. But that wasn’t why I was there. I wasn’t supposed to be brainstorming. I was supposed to be meditating.
Notice your thoughts. Let them go. Return to your breath, your body, bringing yourself back to your center, the present moment. Repeat, endlessly.
It’s Even Tougher for Creatives
I suspect that mediation is even more difficult for creative minds. Ideas don’t just drift in—they barge in, waving their arms.
Each time a creative idea arises, I face a dilemma:
Do I break my meditation to capture it?
Or do I stay still, let it go, and risk forgetting it entirely?
At multi-day silent retreats, you’re sometimes allowed a short meeting with a retreat leader, your only chance to speak. So, in New Mexico, I used mine to ask for help.
I explained my dilemma. I don’t remember what he said. But I remember this: it wasn’t helpful.
Since then, I’ve asked other experienced meditators. No luck.
If I were going to solve this problem, I’d have to solve it myself.
The Creative Mind Hack That Finally Helped
Creative ideas don’t just ambush me during meditation. They also arrive when I’m daydreaming—walking the dirt roads near my home, taking a shower, relaxing after work.
And daydreaming, interestingly, looks a lot like meditating. From the outside, it’s hard to tell the difference.
This reminds me of the apocryphal IBM story:
An IBM employee sits at his desk, staring into space. His manager walks in and asks, “What are you doing?” The employee points to the “THINK” sign on the wall. “I’m thinking,” he says.
That story lingered in the back of my mind. Then, during a recent meditation session, a new idea popped up—ironically:
What if I just scheduled a “creative daydreaming” session before I meditated?
Meditation helps me surface good ideas. But what if I gave myself space to harvest them first, before trying to let them go?
So I experimented.
I sat quietly for 10 minutes, with the intention to daydream.
When a useful idea surfaced, I paused, captured it, and then resumed.
Only after that did I begin my formal meditation.
And the result?
Daydream First, Meditate Next.
When I do this—when I daydream first, then meditate—I notice far fewer creative interruptions during meditation.
It doesn’t work every day. On weekday mornings, I often meditate early with my wife, and I can’t always carve out daydreaming time beforehand.
But when I meditate later in the day, I do.
And yes, it helps. A lot.
Does This Work for You?
I wonder if others have tried this. Has anyone else found that deliberately daydreaming before meditating tames the creative flood?
Does it reduce that internal tension between insight and presence?
It has for me. I’d love to hear whether it works for you too, and whether you’ve discovered any additional tricks for balancing creativity with stillness.
Feel free to share your experience in the comments.
How can we create conditions where real learning can take root?
Whether you’re leading a workshop, teaching a class, or simply trying to help people engage more meaningfully, this question strikes at the heart of what it means to facilitate learning. And the answer often begins with a radical act: stepping aside.
The other day, while rummaging through my collection of articles about group work, I stumbled on two gems—both from 2015—that exemplify this idea beautifully. They’re powerful reminders that sometimes the best thing we can do is…less.
The Silent Professor
Hat tip to Alfie Kohn for pointing me to this first one, written by Joseph Finckel, a professor in the English department at Asnuntuck Community College. He writes:
‘I teach English, and midway through the spring 2013 semester, I lost my voice. Rather than cancelling my classes, I taught all my courses, from developmental English to Shakespeare, without saying a word. Though my voice had mostly returned by Tuesday evening, what I was observing compelled me to remain silent for the remainder of the week. My experience teaching without talking proved so beneficial to my students, so personally and professionally centering, and so impactful in terms of the intentionality of my classroom behavior that I now “lose my voice” at least once every semester…
…Teaching without talking forces students to take ownership of their own learning and shifts the burden of silence from teacher to student. It also forces us to more deliberately plan our classes, because we relinquish our ability to rely on our knowledge and experience in the moment.
At the end of a class during which I did not speak, a student remarked that it had been the best discussion she had yet had. Take the pressure off of yourself to teach, and instead create a situation in which learning will occur. If that means remaining silent, don’t worry—you will not have lost your voice.’ —Joseph Finckel, The Silent Professor
His advice, “Take the pressure off of yourself to teach, and instead create a situation in which learning will occur,” deserves a place on every teacher’s wall.
The Magic of the Raised Hand
This next example comes from Chris Corrigan, a gifted facilitator, teacher, and steward of the Art of Hosting. It’s elegant, simple, and radical:
‘In the second before you let people get to work you ask the group a question: “Put your hand up if you have enough clarity from the instruction I just gave to get down to work.” Many, many hands should go up. Invite people to keep their hands up, and then utter these magic words.
“If any of you have questions about the process, ask these people.” And then remove yourself from the situation.
This does two things. First it immediately makes visible how many people are ready to get going and that shows everyone that any further delay is just getting in the way of work. And second, it helps people who are confused to see that there are people all around them that can help them out. And that is the simplest way to make a group’s capacity visible and active.’ —Chris Corrigan, The simplest facilitation tip to build group capacity
It’s a move that turns the group into its own resource. A small moment of informational hand-raising that changes the whole dynamic.
Learning Happens When We Let Go
These two stories show how learning can thrive when we consciously let go. Read the full posts to see how these subtle interventions move the work away from the teacher or facilitator and toward the learners. When we remove ourselves—by staying silent, or by redirecting questions to peers—we create the space for others to step in, step up, and own the experience.
So the next time you’re preparing to teach, facilitate, or lead, ask yourself: What might happen if I simply stepped aside?
I live in rural Vermont, so if I want to go to an in-person conference that isn’t close to me, I need to get on an airplane.
The closest airport to me is a two-hour drive. Unless the event is in the northeastern United States, I need a full day to get there and another to return, even longer if it’s abroad.
For me—and, I suspect, most attendees—getting there is one factor in choosing whether to attend. But it’s only one factor. As Seth Godin says:
“Getting to the conference in Santa Fe isn’t difficult. Someone will drive/fly you there. The hard part is deciding to go. And yet, it might take 8 hours to arrive.
If they invented teleportation and offered it for free, it would be very clear that where we went would simply depend on where we decided to go, not the mechanics, cost or time it took.” —Seth Godin, At the speed of judgment
Even if we could remove all barriers of travel time, energy, and expense—even if you could snap your fingers and appear there instantly—many people still wouldn’t go.
Why? Because something else matters more.
Here are some obvious reasons people say yes (or no) to a conference:
Relevance of content
Potential personal and employer benefits
Opportunities for meaningful connection
Location
Cost
Time commitment
Sense of belonging or inclusion
Physical environment and experience design
Health and safety considerations
Employer support
Timing and life conflicts
Previous experience or word of mouth
Opportunities to contribute
Event marketing effectiveness
But one factor—quiet, powerful, and usually overlooked—can outweigh them all.
Trust.
If I don’t trust the people convening, designing, or running the event—if I don’t believe the experience will be welcoming, thoughtful, and aligned with my values—I’m not going.
If I suspect the event will be rigid, overly hierarchical, sales-driven, or soulless, no travel convenience, discount code, or high-profile keynote will convince me to show up.
And, if I believe I’ll feel like a passive object to be “delivered” content, rather than a human being invited to participate meaningfully, I’ll stay home and read a good book instead.
What kind of trust matters?
Attending a conference requires multiple kinds of trust. We often don’t articulate them, but they quietly shape our decision long before we hit “Register.”
Do I trust that I’ll be respected—not just tolerated?
If I don’t see people like me in your program, if your language feels exclusive, if your agenda looks like it hasn’t changed in 10 years—I can’t trust that I’ll be seen, and my wants and needs will be met.
Do I trust that my time will be valued?
Will the sessions invite participation, not just absorption? Will the breaks be long enough for real conversation? Will I be treated as a peer, not a lead?
Do I trust that the people there will be open, curious, and generous?
One of the most reliable reasons I choose to attend a conference is because I’ve met someone who’s gone and said, “You’ll love the people there.”
Do I trust that the environment will help me thrive?
This includes the design of the space, the facilitation style, and even the food and seating. Events that center human needs build trust before the first session even begins.
Do I trust the organizers to hold complexity?
In a world full of nuance, competing needs, and uncertainty, I want to be in spaces led by people who don’t pretend everything is simple—or worse, try to sell certainty as a service.
How to build trust?
You don’t build trust with good intentions or glossy branding. Instead, you create it through design, invitation, and experience.
You build it when organizers:
Engage participants as co-creators, not just attendees
Tell the truth about what the event is, and what it isn’t.
Make the invisible visible—by explaining why things are structured the way they are.
Invite vulnerability and model it themselves.
Honor differences while creating spaces where people feel like they belong.
When I design and facilitate conferences, I spend just as much time thinking about how to establish trust as I do creating the event process.
Because without trust, nothing meaningful happens.
With it, almost anything can.
So… do I trust you?
That’s the real question every potential attendee is asking, whether they know it or not.
Before they register.
Before they book a flight.
And before they block out three days on their calendar.
They are deciding whether your event feels like a space where they can show up fully, safely, and meaningfully.
You may think you’re organizing a conference.
But you’re actually designing a trustworthy experience.
And the better you do that, the more likely I am to come.
In the last eighteen months, I’ve unexpectedly found myself in three very different situations, in three very different places, helping complete strangers in distress. None of these moments lasted more than ten or fifteen minutes. But each one left me shaken, reflective, and—somehow—grateful. Here’s what happened.
I get some of my best ideas from my clients. (That’s because consulting—when I listen well—is a two-way street!) So I wasn’t surprised when, during a recent debrief, a client mentioned a simple way to improve the human spectrogram maps I’ve recommended and run for decades.
I love the folks (especially my good friend, Jan-Jaap In der Maur) at Masters In Moderation, a company that has been providing meeting and facilitation services and training in the European Union since 2012. Why? Because their core beliefs about what truly matters at events are deeply aligned with mine. We recognize that events should be designed for and with participants rather than imposed upon them. We understand that engagement is not a gimmick but a fundamental right of every attendee. In short, we believe that participants have rights.
The Power of Participation
Too often, conferences default to passive experiences—attendees sit, listen, and leave without feeling seen, heard, or meaningfully involved. But Masters In Moderation and I reject this outdated model. Our work champions interactive, participant-driven approaches that transform meetings from stale information dumps into vibrant, co-created experiences.
Jan-Jaap has eloquently outlined these principles in The Participants’ Bill of Rights, a manifesto that articulates what every attendee deserves from an event. It’s a call to action for organizers, facilitators, and speakers to respect, empower, and prioritize the people in the room.
Some highlights that particularly resonate with me:
The right to be more than an audience, to belong. Participants should be active contributors, not passive spectators. Active engagement grows belonging.
The right to contribute. Events should provide structured ways for attendees to share their knowledge and perspectives.
The right to authentic, useful, and relevant conversations. Surface-level networking isn’t enough; meaningful dialogue should be built into the experience.
Jan-Jaap provides many more important details about participants’ rights in this Bill, which is well worth a careful read. As an event participant, how many of these rights do you find you have at events? If you’re convening events, how many of these rights do you give to your attendees?
Why This Matters
In my decades of experience designing conferences, I’ve seen firsthand how adopting these principles elevates events. When participants feel valued and engaged, they don’t just attend an event—they co-create it. When event conveners design and facilitate events honoring these principles, the result is a richer, more dynamic, more impactful, and ultimately better experience for everyone involved.
Jan-Jaap and Masters In Moderation are doing essential work to reshape meetings for the better. If you’re serious about making your events truly participatory and improving them for everyone involved, I highly recommend exploring their approach—and taking The Participants’ Bill of Rights to heart.