by Jerry Weissman

For the more than two decades I have been a presentation coach, the question most frequently-asked of me has been, “What do I do with my hands?” So frequent, I devoted a prior post to answering it. But that was then and this is now.

Of late, the most frequently-asked question is, “How do you deal with audiences who are fixated on their smart phones?” The question, asked by distraught presenters, refers to a chronic malady known as “CrackBerry Addiction.” Compounding the problem, those very same presenters, when they become audience members themselves, proceed to exhibit the same severe symptoms of the disease. The addiction is at epidemic proportions.

Quite frankly, I’m stumped for an answer. I’ve tried every technique I know—pregnant pauses, steely stares, provocative questions, innocent questions, polite requests, forceful demands, gentle nudges, outright pleas, periodic breaks, and even making a demonstrative point of shutting down my own smart phone—to no avail. The addiction persists.

Therefore, I’ll approach the problem from a different angle; instead of trying to help presenters, I’ll cast a wider net by recommending how anyone can escape the hypnotic allure of those glowing LCD screens. Admit it, you know that you are hooked, too. My hope is that if I can help move the needle only slightly, clearer minds might become more attentive audiences.

Professional writers, for whom concentration is critical, are often derailed by the double-edged sword of the Internet: they use it to find material, but they often go off on search sidetracks that interrupt their creative process. In an article for the New York Times Book Review, travel writer Tony Perrottet described one of his lengthy web detours, and added that he is not alone in literary circles, “everyone I know acknowledges the problem of digital distraction.” Mr. Perrottet then went on to note that some writers “have made gestures toward enforced self-denial,” and gave the example of author Jonathan Franzen who wrote his bestselling novel, The Corrections, “in a dark room wearing earplugs, earmuffs and a blindfold, and confessed to blocking his Ethernet port with Super Glue.”

Extremes measures, but not as extreme as those of Rolf Dobelli. Mr. Dobelli, the driving force behind the popular business book summary website getAbstract, is a writer in his own right. In an online essay titled, “Avoid News,” he recommends going cold turkey:

Make news as inaccessible as possible. Delete the news apps from your iPhone. Sell your TV. Cancel your newspaper subscriptions. Do not pick up newspapers and magazines that lie around in airports and train stations. Do not set your browser default to a news site. Pick a site that never changes. The more stale the better. Delete all news sites from your browser’s favorites list. Delete the news widgets from your desktop.

As admirable as Mr. Dobelli’s goal is, it is also unrealistic. Ever since Adam, humans succumb to temptation, and so are virtually incapable of going cold turkey. Why do you think there are so many diet books on the bestseller lists?

A more realistic approach to CrackBerry Addiction is to follow the model of other established substance abuse solutions: one step at a time. Mr. Perrottet tells of two authors, Dave Eggers (A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius) and Nora Ephron (I Remember Nothing: and Other Reflections), who use a computer program called Freedom that blocks Internet access for up to eight hours. Just as airlines require passengers to turn off their mobile devices for the duration of the flight, the withdrawal is confined to a limited period.

This is the first step toward self-control, and if self-control ever catches on, perhaps your next audience will take their eyes off their CrackBerries and focus on you.

Sure, and there is a Santa Claus.