Mailbag #180

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Don’t you think that most Magicians categorise laymen as one singular group?

As if, because they are not magicians - they somehow are all the same.

Not all, I guess.

But some over here (bad ones) talk about laymen like they are singular and not the whole entire world.

As if they all have one shared brain.—CR

On some level, it’s understandable to think of “laypeople” as a monolith. Otherwise, there’s almost no way to make any statements about them whatsoever. What they like, what they bring to the table, and what fools them varies so much from person to person that we more or less have to imagine some generic individual—or else we’d spend all our time saying “if.”

If they’re like this. If they think this way. If they’re inquisitive. If they like mind reading. If they play Texas Hold ’Em. Ad infinitum.

So instead we talk about “Laymen” as if they’re some genderless, ageless, raceless, pansexual entity of indeterminate socioeconomic status, interests, and intellect.

Is that a problem? Not really.

Where it becomes an issue—and I think it’s one of the biggest issues we have in magic—is when our generic “layman” is imagined as someone who just so happens to be dumb, uninquisitive, and fully entertained by the most meaningless tricks and the hackiest jokes.

We don’t picture an intelligent, suspicious non-magician who is perfectly willing to write off most of what we do as “just a trick.” We picture some man-child laughing and clapping at everything we do, because that version of the spectator asks the least of us. We don’t have to work very hard to create something genuinely interesting, deceptive, or compelling if we’ve already imagined an audience that’s delighted by anything.

You see this kind of thinking all the time:

“Sure, they can’t examine the coin. But laymen don’t want to examine things as long as your presentation is entertaining.”

Oh, okay. Sure.

This sort of self-serving rationalization is practically the default setting in magic. We imagine the spectator we need in order for our choices to be justified, rather than the spectator we’re actually likely to encounter.

And I think that’s a big part of why magic has a reputation for being for children: because “Layman”—the imaginary spectator so much magic has been designed to fool and entertain—has essentially been modeled after one.

About 25% of the time, when people introduce me in a social situation, even though I'm a whole person with many fascinating qualities, a family and a cool non-magic job... they call out "Chris is a magician." I've always just kinda shook off these moments and either dovetailed into some conversation about the Magic Castle or they end up cornering me about 'that amazing magician they saw once.'

I've been curious how you handle that situation, the cold/unexpected/sudden intro as a magician: 1) are you ready to jump RIGHT into something with that as the easy entry-point? 2) I RARELY am, and in most cases, I'm just too exhausted or not in the mood to do magic at like a kid's birthday party to dads I don't know… so how do you handle the folks' expectations? They just met a magician who... doesn't really seem amped to do magic? It's an odd social magic scenario.

Thanks for considering this question. I think many folks will wonder about your view on this. —CL

It depends. If Person A is introducing me to Person B, and they say, “And he does magic!” and Person B just says, “Oh, neat,” I wouldn’t be inclined to show them anything.

But if someone is expressing genuine interest in magic, there really isn’t a situation where I wouldn’t show them something.

My mindset is that I have this thing in my life that I invest time in learning for the sole purpose of bringing some joy or mystery into people’s lives. To then get coy about showing it to people feels ridiculous to me.

I know the calculus is different if you perform professionally. But it still feels bizarre to me to turn down an opportunity to do something you (theoretically) enjoy for people who want to experience it. But Andy, would Taylor Swift sing a song at some random party just because she was asked? Actually yes. I was at an event where she did just that. The idea that professional performers are wildly reticent to perform unless they’re getting paid is the opposite of what I’ve experienced on numerous occasions when I’ve crossed paths with them through my non-magic work.

Of course, I’m not suggesting you start pulling props the moment the subject of magic comes up, like these “EDC magic” weirdos do. That’s not what people are hoping for. They want something that feels spontaneous and alive—not something that feels like you’ve been waiting all night for someone to activate your pocket full of gimmicks.

My attitude—not what I actually say—in these situations is: “Yes, I have an interest in magic. Oh, you want to see something? Yeah, I don’t know…I don’t really have anything on me. Actually, there’s this one thing I’ve been learning [or reading about] that we could try.”

Now, I think the main reason magicians are inclined to not show people something in this situation is that they don’t know what to do. It’s not that it would be such a burden to perform. It’s more that they can’t think of what to perform, or they don’t feel like they have something really great to show people.

So, logistically, I think it makes sense to craft a repertoire of a dozen tricks for these situations. And then, from that repertoire, maybe identify a single trick that will be your go-to when your mind goes blank and you can’t think of anything else.

Before starting this site, I used to dodge social performance opportunities frequently. But running this site pushed me to perform more. And the more I performed in those situations, the more prepared I felt for them. In my experience, once you're prepared, being asked to perform stops feeling like an imposition and starts feeling more like an opportunity.

Until September...

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This is the final post for August. Regular posting resumes Monday, Sept. 7th.

The next issue of Keepers for supporters comes out Sunday, Sept. 6th.

If you’re a Rich Uncle Millionaire-level supporter and you have an ad for issue 9 of Keepers, get it to me by the end of the month.

Landon Stark submits the following routine and writes…

I’m not sure if it’s something your readers would find useful, since it does require purchasing a little bit of tech to pull off. But I figured maybe 10% of them might be crazy enough to actually try it, and those 10% might really like it.

10% is a wild estimate. It’s closer to 1%. Not because the trick is bad, but just because it would be a significant investment of money and energy to make it work. But it’s an interesting read even if you don’t perform it.

(Fair warning: the write-up occasionally slips into that grandiose AI voice that makes everything sound like the closing narration of a Christopher Nolan movie. I know some of you are hyper-sensitive to that sort of thing.)

Check it out here.

UPDATE: SOLD

There is one final copy of Escape! available. For some reason, every time we publish a book, one gets printed upside-down—meaning, the cover is upside-down. Otherwise, it's perfectly fine.

Now, I contend that because there is no text on the cover, there's no real way of knowing that it's upside-down. In fact, I think it's quite possible this is the only book that was printed correctly. All the other ones are upside-down.

I'm making this final copy available. But I don't really ever know what's a fair price for these things because I don't know how much it matters to people. Do they value the cover orientation, or do they just care about the content?

Well, I'm opening bids on this—just send me an email with Escape! bid $__ in the subject line and fill in your bid. On September 1st, I'll notify the highest bidder that the book is theirs.

You will get the copy of the book with a hand-written inscription declaring this to be the SOLE properly printed copy of the book.

Click here to bid.

There’s no more stirring eulogy to a departed master than passing along your own customer testimonial.

“Juan changed magic forever. And speaking of great magicians, here’s what Brenda from Accounting had to say about me.”

Thank you, Eric, for this beautiful tribute. And, tasteful, reminder that you’re available for corporate events

Kevin M. wrote in to tell me about this impromptu seance/divination "tool."

Charlie/Charlie

I'd never heard of it before, but it's a useful reference point. Being able to point to a real practice helps ground your trick in some skewed version of reality.

Apparently this went viral in 2015 and got treated as a real phenomenon by...well, dumb people, let's be honest—a Fijian ministry banned it in schools, teachers got hauled in for questioning over letting kids play it, and a government in Libya blamed it for a string of suicides.

You could easily frame a pencil balanced on a bottle (that you move with IT) as the version of Charlie/Charlie you played growing up.

That pre-existing mythology does a lot of work for you. It suggests there's already some strange significance attached to balancing a pencil and watching it rotate—rather than that you started with the method and reverse-engineered a supernatural premise around it.

See you all back here in September.

It’s the heart of fair season around here. So if you’re wandering around a state or county fair and spot someone bouncing from one rickety ride to the next barely inspected death trap while simultaneously going down on two corn dogs at once—that’s me! Come say hi.

Invisible Palm Touches

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Here are a couple of small ideas for the Invisible Palm plot.

The first comes from Griffin Watt and it’s a quick and casual way to dump off and set up the final ace that would work with many versions of the effect.

Here's an idea I had as a way to end the Invisible Palm trick.

I don't know that it needs an ending. I think it's a beautiful trick when performed well.

But I think if we looked at the trick as a director or a storywriter, it's easy to see a weakness. The main issue with the trick, as I see it, is that it's more or less the same thing happening over and over and over. There's not much of a build to it. And, in fact, the last "invisible palm" is frequently a less impressive phase, since the deck has been introduced into the equation—which is typically less clean than the previous phases, where there are apparently only four cards involved.

What I'm offering here isn't a modification of the trick itself. It's a button at the end. A "Rep" that goes with a trick where you can apparently absorb items into your palm.

After the trick is complete and the reaction winds down, you say, "It's crazy, because I still have some stuff stuck in the invisible palm from when I first learned it back in high school. Can you feel something hard in my palm?" [Resist the urge to say, "I'll feel something hard in my palm tonight."]

You rub your palm with the thumb of the other hand and extend it to them to feel.

"Sometimes it just gets stuck. Like a sliver." Flex your hand a few times. "I do feel like maybe it's working its way out though."

Give your hand a couple of hard shakes and smack it on the table, dislodging a long-lost coin from your palm.

You know what's happening here. It's the Han Ping Chien style stuff (I believe). After the card trick is over, you grab the coin from your pocket with your left hand. It hides under your right hand as if you invite them to feel your palm.

You then drop it from out of your left hand as your right hand smacks it on the table.

I don't know how deceptive this move is generally, but I've had pretty good reactions to it in this context. I think it's because the coin comes out of nowhere. And I don't mean it "magically" comes out of nowhere. I mean that it's been a card trick this whole time and it ends with a coin, so structurally it comes out of nowhere, giving a nice, abrupt surprise at the end. But also something that's in line with what they've seen story-wise.

The Tell/Show Turn

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This is my favorite "Turn" into an effect. As discussed yesterday, the Turn is the point where you transition into a magic trick.

Here are two examples of what this particular Turn looks like.

Example 1

You're having dinner with a friend. They ask if you have any new magic you're working on.

"Yeah, I have this one thing I'm working on. It uses music. So, like you would think of your favorite song. And then there's a little mind game you play that opens up an interesting channel of connection related to music. And... wait, actually maybe I could try it with you."

Example 2

You're hanging with a friend. "Is there a bruise there?" you ask, pointing at the back of your arm. "Damn. It feels like there's one there." You explain that earlier in the day you showed a trick to a co-worker and she got pissed and punched you in the arm. [Wagging your finger and imitating her] "You asshole. That's messed up. There's no way you did that. You're messing with my mind." And then she went off and punched me weirdly hard in the arm.

Your friend asks about the trick.

"Oh, it's this thing. It's kind of like a way to manipulate time. You take a dollar and you tear it in half. So now you have a very distinct before-and-after moment to reference. And, so, like you take one half and… actually, why don't I just show it to you."

It's not that you're going to use these specific stories—it's the structure that's important.

You start off describing the trick and then "change your mind" and offer to show it to them.

Why does this work so well? Because before you ever offer to perform, you’ve given them a chance to start wishing you would.

If you walk up to someone and say, "Want to see a trick?" Whether they do or not, that's going to feel a little bit needy on your part.

But here you’re just talking about a trick. That’s much more casual—and much less satisfying. Listening to someone describe a magic trick is a little like listening to someone describe a dream: there’s only so invested you can get in something you’re not actually experiencing.

After a couple of sentences, the natural thought is: I wish I could see this instead of just hearing about it.

Because you’re talking about things like mindreading, time travel, ESP, gambling scams, synchronicity—ideas that would be intriguing to experience. Hearing about them is like hearing someone describe a great new back-rub technique. Okay. But you’d rather feel it.

And that’s the trick of this approach: the desire to see the effect appears in their mind before the offer to perform appears in your mouth.

There’s a second benefit: it makes the performance feel genuinely spontaneous.

Compare pulling a bunch of props from your pockets and asking if someone wants to see a trick with this: you’re talking, the idea of showing them something seems to occur to you in the moment, and now you’re looking around for whatever you need.

“Okay, let’s see. Do I even have the stuff for this? I need a Sharpie, a bill, that little box from the antique store…”

Having to go gather the props can make the whole thing stronger. The lack of preparation becomes evidence that this wasn’t planned.

This is also a helpful Carefree Technique, because it means you don't have to have any props you need on you or nearby. This conversation and the decision to show the other person arose just now—so you can go assemble what you need.

✿✿✿

I know people are going to say, "There's nothing wrong with asking someone if they want to see a trick and then taking stuff out of your pocket."

Here's a thought experiment.

I want you to imagine you meet a quite attractive person of whatever sex you're into. After a few minutes of conversation, they say, "Would you like to see some nudes I had taken recently?"

Even if you’re attracted to this person—and even if you absolutely do want to see the photos—some part of that offer feels a little desperate. They’re pushing something desirable at you instead of giving you a chance to desire it first.

But if the person said, "I just had a modeling gig. It was a new experience for me. I usually do high fashion, but this was just like a necklace and nothing else. I was in a bed and it had these sheets which matched the color of this chunky necklace and the way he had me pose was—well, it's hard to explain—kind of like this…" And as she's talking, you're thinking, "Damn, I'd love to see those photos."

And just as you think that, she says, "Actually, let me show them to you. It's hard to explain and it will be good to get someone else's perspective." She's not going to come off as a sort of sad individual flashing her nudes around. It's almost going to feel like you instigated her offer to show them to you with the way you were thinking.

That's what the Tell/Show Turn is about: creating an unspoken wish in their mind that you are then able to grant by showing them the trick.

Turns

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The transition from not performing to performing in social magic is, I think, the most important moment of the whole interaction. That sounds like hyperbole, but it's genuinely been my experience.

A trick that's a 7 but feels casually introduced always gets a better response than a trick that's a 9 that we lurch awkwardly into performing.

In social magic:

We're talking. We're talking. We're talking. [Something happens.] And now we're doing a trick.

That [Something happens] is so important, but it's hardly ever talked about in magic.

This is the Turn—the point where we're not doing a magic trick into the point where we are.

[I've written in the past about blurring the lines of that moment. But this approach is different. With a Turn we're being a bit more blatant about it.]

I think the worst thing you can do in that moment is say, "Do you want to see a magic trick?"

Also, the most common thing people say in that moment is, "Do you want to see a magic trick?"

That's how bad we are at this stuff. We're doing the worst, most obvious approach as the first element we use when introducing a trick.

It's similar to snapping to make magic happen, which I pointed out years ago was the laziest, least-effort thing you could do to affect magic—and it's also one of the only things people would ever do.

"Do you want to see a magic trick?" is a line that only sounds right when preceded by, "Golly gee, mister." And when it comes out of someone who looks like this:

That’s the first problem, it sounds juvenile.

Secondly, “Do you want to see a magic trick?” immediately sets the performer/audience dynamic in place. And that's not what people want to feel like when they're spending time with someone. "Oh, I'm the audience and he's going to entertain me." That's uncomfortable and not fun.

And asking permission creates a third problem: it frames what you’re about to do as a potential imposition. Something you need their consent for before you burden them with it.

The key to making the Turn is not to ask for permission to perform.

Think of the difference between these:

"May I show you the photos from my vacation?" vs. "Oh man, you have to see these photos from my vacation."

"Can I recite a joke to you?" vs. "I heard this great joke. This door-to-door salesman…"

"Would you like to hear about an interesting article I read?" vs. "You've gotta hear about this thing I just read!"

The first options subtly suggest you might be imposing on them, so you better get the “ok” first before going on with it.

The second options frames the content as a gift of enthusiasm rather than a request for their time. "I have something interesting/crazy/fascinating/hilarious to share with you. And I have the confidence in it just to go ahead with it."

What do you think is going to capture people more? The one where they have to say, "Yes, you may entertain me." Or the one where they think, "Oh, what's this exciting thing all about?"

These are “Excitement Turns” and they’re what I use most often (if I’m not using “Can I get your help with something?” Or some other form of a “Help Turn.”)

You want what you say to set the stage for how they should feel about what’s to come. You’re excited, so they should be excited. You’re not asking permission to show them a trick. You’re sharing something cool.

“Oh, I almost forgot—I’ve been dying to show someone this.”

“Hang on, you’re actually the perfect person for something I’ve been wanting to try.”

“What you said just reminded me of something wild. You’ve got to check this out.”

“Oh man, I got something in the mail yesterday that you’re going to love.”

“I learned something crazy the other day. You’ve got to see this.”

“You know, you have such a unique energy, and it’s got me thinking. There’s this thing I discovered recently, and I’m wondering if it would work on you.”

“So, I found this thing the other day, and I genuinely don’t know what to make of it.”

“You just reminded me of something I think you’d get a kick out of.”

Of course, I’m keeping these examples as generic as possible. With an actual trick in mind, you’d usually make the wording more specific to the effect.

The idea behind Excitement Turns is to transition into the performance by expressing excitement about what you have to show them, the person you’re with, or both.

If you’re performing from a magician-centric perspective, this can feel difficult because it seems like you’re just cheerleading yourself.

But from an audience-centric standpoint, an Excitement Turn is the most natural thing in the world. “I’m excited about this.” “I’m can’t wait to get your perspective on this.” That’s exactly how you talk in real life when you have something incredible to share.

The Turns discussed above are general approaches. But there are more specific, narrowly defined Turns as well.

Tomorrow I’ll share my favorite of these—an approach that gets people wishing you would perform before you ever offer to.

Mailbag #179

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In [Mailbag #177] you inferred the best way to learn magic is to grab some older books (Scarne and the Fulves books) and work your way through them. While I understand the point you were trying to make and that that feels like a good way to learn, I think you might be being blinded by the typical “in my day!” thinking.

If learning from books is such a great way to learn, why are young magicians now so much better than they’ve ever been before?  —KS

Well, first, I didn’t say that’s the best way to learn. I said that’s how I would choose to learn if I was going to start over. And that’s because, for me, what I’ve gotten the most benefit from and what has produced the strongest impact with real people are the ideas that were borne out of taking a good trick and trying to come up with an intriguing premise for it. Not just learning the best/newest thing.

And I disagree with your premise: “young magicians now are so much better than they’ve ever been before.” I think that peaked around 15 years ago.

Around 10-20 years ago you had a lot of magicians in their later-teens to mid-20s creating stuff that felt like it was really coming from a fresh perspective. People like Danny Garcia, Calen Morelli, Blake Vogt, Marcus Eddie, Peter Turner.

I think that group came of age with the internet, so they had access to more information than preceding generations. But their formative years were pre-social media. I think social media has distracted and dulled the average young magician. Chasing views doesn’t lead to creating interesting new methods or approaches to performing.

But I’m happy to be proven wrong on this. Who’s in the 18–25 range who is creating a repertoire of strong material that I’m missing?

Looking at your Aug 11 Post, Dirtying the Bill Production, I wanted to share with you a little something I use that may fit the bill (heh) for spectator involvement.  While not a bill production, per se, it does introduce the idea of money appearing.  

So, here's what I do....it costs me a dollar whenever I do this, but I think it's worth it.  Get some $2 bills from the bank. Prepare them ala Chad Long's Scratch effect.  I typically print a stacker to go under neat the scratcher that says You WIN $1"

Now if you're in a situation where you can borrow a single, you explain this new promotion from the local state lottery.  Pull out an unused scratcher sticker and place it on their folded dollar bill.

Do the necessary thing....then slide the bill over to them with a coin to scratch off the scratcher.  

"You WIN $1" will be revealed.  Have them unfold the bill, which is now a two dollar bill.  They won one dollar.

Not sure if that actually fits your concept...but it does get the spectator involved more.—JS

I like that quite a bit. I mean, it’s not eye-poppingly magical. It doesn’t have the visual element of a bill production or bill change. But it feels almost like a mini-Carbonaro Effect moment.

I'm currently performing two of my solo shows at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. One is called Fake and is a show about art and forgery based on an old Orson Welles film. The other is called Heist and is pretty much directly inspired by your "live life like a heist movie" post from a few years ago. So thanks for that. 

Anyway, in the evenings I've been guesting in a show called The Big Naked Variety Show where the gimmick is all the performers are entirely naked. There's a stand-up who hosts it, a circus girl who does a wicked hula hoop act, a contortionist who does a killer routine (that also involves producing a real banana from inside herself) then also me. 

I mostly do stand up with a few silly tricks thrown in but something that I genuinely do is just a classic presentation of the invisible deck. You know, throw a pack of invisible cards out, they choose one, reverse it, box it and throw it back to you. When it lands in your hands it "becomes visible". Except I have no pockets or sleeves to produce it from so I genuinely use the "prison pocket" technique. I clench an invisible deck between my butt cheeks during the whole bit then in an opportune moment I retrieve it, hold it against my body, palm it, then produce it. 

It honestly kills. 

I sort of hint that the only way it could be done is if I had genuine magic powers or it was up my butt but stop short of fully revealing it as I think it's funnier that way. 

Anyway, there's my rather unusual and possibly embarrassing admittance that I'm actually secretly quite proud of. 

If you have any other suggestions for tricks or routines that you think would be impressive to perform completely naked, I'd love to hear them.—CC

Come out on stage blowing a big gum bubble. Let it pop, then clearly swallow it.

“They say it sits in your stomach for 7 years, but I don’t believe that. I swallow gum all the time.”

Then wriggle your ass a little like something is annoying you. Reach up into your butthole with a thumbtip loaded with a bubble gum mouth coil and start pulling it out, foot by foot. Scream like it hurts.

When you’re done say, “That’s it. No more gum for me. It’s back to cigarettes.”

Get a cigarette, light it, then push the lit cigarette into your asshole (in the thumbtip you left there when you pulled out the mouth coil). Then use a smoke from mouth gimmick to make it look like you’re smoking the cigarette through your butt.

Then collect your Best of the Festival award.

Dustings #149

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I’m sure the new daughter-in-law was thrilled.

“How foolish of me to think the focus would be on us and the magic of our love, when your father has a stack of Rubik’s Cube cards set up for the Out to Lunch principle.”

You might say, “Oh, Andy. They probably asked him to perform.”

Nope. He states it pretty clearly: he’s going to perform if he gets the urge.

By the way, this picture is pretty much the exact opposite of the Carefree Philosophy in action. Imagine loading yourself up with SEVEN different packs and stacks of cards to attend your son’s wedding. Surely one deck and a little impromptu material could have been enough to embarrass yourself, yes?

I pray you weren’t the best man.

The priest: “May I have the rings, please?”

You: “Aww… hmm. Shit. They’re here somewhere. Is this it? No, that’s a rubber band. I remember taking them out of my jacket to make room for Cinemental, which many people consider a blockbuster two-phase mentalism routine that will leave your spectators begging for a sequel. They’re here somewhere. If not, they’re in the room. Yeah. They’re probably in the room. I’ll grab them later when I go get my Fart-Toon deck.”

On the Mountebank thread the Magic Cafe we have someone making this point a couple of times:

Here’s a tighter version that keeps the bite but makes the argument flow a little cleaner:

Now, I can’t comment on Mountebank because I don’t own it, although I’ll probably pick it up at some point.

But what I can comment on is putting a business card in your wallet.

Let me put your mind at ease: it isn’t “illogical.” It doesn’t “scream oddness.” There are basically two things people do with business cards, and one of them is put them in their wallet. Only a magician could convince himself that putting a card back where it came from is some glaring breach of normal human behavior.

I spent 500 days testing peek wallets and breaking down every part of the process with spectators. This was never an issue.

Treat writing down the word, putting the card away in the wallet, and then putting the wallet away as nothing more than laying the groundwork for the interesting thing you’re about to get to.

“We’ll get back to that later if we need it.”

You’re simply establishing a target—a word, image, number, whatever—then getting it out of the way so you can move on to the good stuff. That’s all. It’s perfectly reasonable.

This is actually a great book for the beginning ventriloquist. It teaches you how to make… that thing, and then hands you an immediate reason to drill your labials—because the only thing that will make sense coming out of that dummy’s mouth is “Please kill me.”

“Tleaze kill ne.”