By Michael McKown So, you’re staring at a blank page, tasked with writing a commencement speech that’ll inspire a bunch of graduates who itch to ditch their caps and hit the taco truck. The secret weapon to make your words stick is storytelling. Not just any yarn, though. I’m talking about personal stories from your own life that feel like a warm handshake, not a lecture.
These are the tales that turn a speech into something graduates will carry like a lucky charm. But digging up the right personal moments and shaping them to resonate with a crowd is trickier than teaching a cat to fetch. Let’s talk about how to unearth those stories from your life, why they make a speech unforgettable, and how to wield them without sounding like you’re auditioning for a soap opera. We’ll toss in some examples, a few laughs, and enough idioms to keep it lively.
Stories are the glue that binds you to your audience. Graduates, half-distracted by post-ceremony plans, don’t need another pep talk about “unlocking their potential.” They want something real, something that feels like it’s pulled from the same messy human playbook they’re living.
That’s where your personal stories come in. They’re not just icebreakers, they’re the heartbeat of a speech. A good one can make a room of strangers lean in, nodding, because it reminds them of their own stumbles or dreams. The trick is finding the moments in your life that aren’t just about you but about something bigger, something that’ll hit those graduates right where they live.
Start by rummaging through your own history, including those moments you wish had never happened. Think about the times you felt most alive, most lost, or even most embarrassed. Those are often the gold mines. Maybe it’s the summer you bombed your first internship, spilling coffee on your boss’s keyboard while trying to “network.” Or the late-night drive where you decided to switch careers, heart pounding like a drum solo.
These don’t have to be blockbuster moments. Remember, no one’s asking for a tale about wrestling a bear. The small stuff, like the time you stood up to a bully or learned to cook your grandma’s recipe, can carry just as much weight if it’s honest. The key is picking a story that reveals something about how you became you.
In my case, decades ago, I was an official of the nation’s largest working dog organization and the creator/editor of its bimonthly magazine. I was invited to speak at a gathering of fellow working dog enthusiasts. They kept feeding me alcohol as I sat at the dais. I had a wonderful introduction, stood up, slurred my words and became incoherent. Mercifully, the organizer diplomatically brought the festivities to a close. Ouch! I can laugh now but it took me a long time to reach that point.
(If you don’t want to do the writing yourself, my company, Ghostwriters Central, Inc., can certainly assist. I’ve got expert commencement speech writers under contract. We can write it in your voice and use your stories to sell your address to the grads.)
J.K. Rowling’s 2008 Harvard speech was memorable. She didn’t pull out a generic fable. She dove into her own life, sharing how she hit rock bottom before Harry Potter took off. She talked about living in a cramped apartment, a single mom with a baby, typing stories while juggling bills. It’s not glamorous. You can almost hear the radiator clanking. But that story, raw and specific, showed failure as a pit stop, not a dead end. It connected with graduates because it wasn’t just her truth, it was a window into resilience anyone could relate to. To find your own version, ask yourself: When did I learn something that changed me? That’s where your speech starts to sing.
Humor’s a great way to unearth these. Robin Williams leaned hard into his own life for his 2002 USC speech, riffing on his wild ride through showbiz, flops, fame, and all. He told a story about bombing early gigs, doing impressions in dive bars for drunk crowds who didn’t care. Who would ever believe Robin could bomb?
It’s hilarious, but it’s also a sneaky way to say that screwing up is part of the journey. The story was the lesson. Dig into your own flops or funny moments. Maybe it’s the time you tried to impress a crush with a guitar serenade, only to break a string mid-chord. If it makes you laugh now, it might just make the graduates chuckle too, and they’ll hear the point without you preaching.
Finding the right story means knowing what matters to your audience. Today’s graduates are stepping into a whirlwind. AI is reshaping jobs, and rents are climbing faster than a viral TikTok. Your story should nod to their world. Maybe you’ve got a tale about pivoting when life threw you a curveball, like switching paths after a layoff.
When Viola Davis spoke at Brown in 2016, she shared growing up poor, scavenging for food as a kid. It wasn’t just her story, it spoke to anyone wondering how to rise above their circumstances. To pick your moment, think about what keeps graduates up at night. Debt? Purpose? Loneliness? Jot down times you faced those fears yourself. One of them will spark.
Don’t just grab the first memory that pops up, though. Test it out. Does it tie to something universal, like courage or connection? I once heard a speaker talk about his obsession with collecting rare coins, and it landed like a lead balloon because it didn’t go anywhere. Your story needs a pulse. Try this: write down three moments that shaped you. Maybe one’s about risking it all, another’s about finding your tribe, and a third’s about laughing through tears. Pick the one that feels like it could be their story, too.
Pacing’s your friend here. A story that rambles loses its fizz. Keep it vivid but tight. When Barack Obama spoke at Howard in 2016, he shared a quick bit about his early organizing days, knocking on doors and getting ignored. It’s a snapshot, not a novel, and it set up his call to keep grinding. You don’t need to describe every detail, just enough to make it real. That time you moved cross-country with $200 and a dream? Mention the duct-taped car, not the playlist. Let the graduates fill in the blanks.
Your voice matters too. If you’re not a comedian, don’t force punchlines. If you’re not a poet, skip the metaphors. I saw a speaker once try to channel Maya Angelou, and it flopped harder than a bad rom-com. Your story should sound like you, maybe a little nervous, telling it over coffee. Dig into what makes you tick. If you’re a nerd, maybe it’s how you built a robot that caught fire. If you’re a dreamer, talk about the night you stared at the stars and decided to start over. That authenticity is what makes graduates listen.
Don’t overexplain the story either. If you’ve told it right, like how you froze during a big presentation but still nailed the job, they’ll get it. Spelling out “this means perseverance” feels like you’re handing them a cheat sheet. Let it land. When Conan O’Brien spoke at Dartmouth in 2011, he joked about his TV career crashing after a network shake-up. He didn’t say “life’s unpredictable.” The story said it for him, and the laughs were the proof.
So, as you hunt for your story, treat your life like a treasure chest. Flip through the moments that made you laugh, cry, or grow. Find one that feels true, ties to their fears or hopes, and carries your big idea without shouting it. That’s how you craft a speech that doesn’t just fill time -- it lights a fire.
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