Four Ways to Vanish a Coin, Part Four

The Romantic Adventure style gets its name from the introduction to the old radio program, Escape!

The idea behind this performing style is that you present things that are "designed to free [your audience] from the four walls of today." That sounds grandiose and if you're walking into it thinking, "I'm going to give this person a life-altering experience," then you're putting too much pressure on yourself and the moment. Instead the thought should be, "I'm going to guide this person along on a brief expedition through a unique and interesting scenario." That's all.

"Ah, no, no, no. Not my friends. They won't go for that sort of thing."

Oh, no? Your friends don't like unique and interesting things? They just come home from work every night, peruse the encyclopedia, then read thru the digits of pi starting where they left off the night before?

By definition, people are interested in interesting things. (Check your etymological dictionary, those words are actually related.) If you think your friends won't be into this type of presentation because you've seen them check-out of things you've shown them before, you have to remember that that's because they weren't engaged. The solution to that is not to dull-down your presentations to match their level of investment. You need to entice them with something more interesting.

Here are two tips when getting into this style:

1. This is not the sort of thing you'd want to perform for someone you've just met. However it is the sort of thing you can perform for a group of people you just met. "You want to try something weird?" is an intriguing lead in when you're hanging with a new group. But one-on-one, with a stranger, it sounds like a potential lead-in to forced sodomy or a murder-suicide.

2. Do not ask too much of someone, especially the first time you perform for them in this style. It's perfectly acceptable to ask for their time, interest, and to have them follow along with simple instructions. But if they don't know you, and don't know they can trust this will turn out to be something worthwhile, it's a little awkward to ask people to invest emotionally or to play a part that is not themselves. This is an intimate style of performance, and just like any type of intimacy, it's best if it grows organically. You don't invite someone in at the end of your first date and lead off with dry anal fisting.

So let's look at a coin vanish done in the Romantic Adventure style. In this approach the effects aren't used as an end in themselves. Instead they're used to establish a reality slightly askew from the one your spectator is used to.

The presentation that follows is for a complete three coin vanish. Something like Joshua Jay's Triad Coins. It's done in four acts or movements. It incorporates some elements of the previous styles mentioned—they are seeing the process of practicing magic as in the Peek Backstage, and they are seeing things get slightly beyond your control as in the Distracted Artist—but the main focus of the effect is to bring your spectator into a world where belief affects reality and re-writes memory. Want to get away from it all? We offer you... Escape!

Remember Sammy Jankis

Imagine

Your friend Hannah comes over.

You answer the door, "Oh, hey! What's up? I mean... come on in."

"Am I early?" she asks.

"Oh, no. Sorry. I knew you were coming?"

"Is that a question?"

"No. No. Of course not. My head is all over the place today. My brain is scrambled. You're here to watch a movie and get dinner. I remembered. Go take a seat and I'll get you a drink."

You come back in the room with a couple beverages. 

On the coffee table there is a post-it pad and a marker. 

"What does that mean?" she asks.

You read what it says on the Post-It.

Remember your
vanishing coins.

"Huh. I haven't the foggiest idea what that means. What are my 'vanishing coins'?"

You pick up the note and look at it, then look around the room, confused. You notice your copy of The Amateur Magician's Handbook on an end table nearby.

"Oh shit. That's right," you say as you uncap the marker. "I just spelled it wrong. It's not remember my vanishing coins" You uncap the marker and make a quick change to the note so it reads:

Remember, you're
vanishing coins.

"It's 'Remember YOU ARE vanishing coins.' I was just trying to remind myself of what I was working on."

Movement One

Before she can ask for an explanation you say, "Actually, could I get your help with something? I want you to let me know how this looks."

You grab three half dollars off the end table and hold them in a fan in your right hand. You take one with your left. Close your eyes. Squeeze it for a few seconds and open your hand. Then you open your eyes and stare directly at Hannah.

"Oh, hey! What's up?" you say.

She looks slightly confused. You act slightly confused. You look down and notice the coins in your hand then the note on the table. "Aw shit... did I just vanish a coin?" 

She's like, "Uhm... yeah," and looks at you strangely.

"Yeah... sorry,  I spaced out...uhm... can I tell you something that sounds a little strange?"

She gives you the okay.

"Alright... well... first, did you ever learn any magic as a kid?"

Movement Two

She says she knew a couple of card tricks. 

"I'm going to teach you how kids are taught to vanish a coin. Here, take one of these," you say, offering her one of the half dollars in your hand. As she goes to take it you say, "Actually, that's too big. Let's use something smaller." You set the half dollars down and grab two other coins.

Now you teach her how to do a french drop. Yes, I know, I know. This isn't some big secret. And you're teaching the french drop to make the presentation stronger and the magic stronger at the end.

Practice it a few times with her. "That's looking pretty good," you say. "But that's just the first step. The physical step. As I said, this is what they teach little kids. And, actually, the physical part of a coin vanish is never more difficult than that. Do you know what the next step is? It's a mental step. To make your vanish really convincing you have to believe you really take the coin and you have to believe the coin is really disappearing."

You demonstrate a bad french drop (where your attention is on the hand which is supposedly empty) and then you demonstrate a good french drop (where your attention is on the hand that supposedly has the coin). And you get your spectator on board with the concept that the magician's belief is a key part in making the effect stronger.

"Here's where it gets weird. As you advance in learning magic, a coin vanish becomes less and less about the physical actions and more and more about your belief. It gets to the point where it's all belief, and you're not doing any sleight-of-hand at all. But the problem is, there is an infinitesimally small line between believing hard enough to make the physical coin go, and believing so hard that your concept and memory of the coin itself goes too. And that's where I'm at. I can get the coin to vanish, but I can't control it beyond that. The existence of the coin and what I was doing with it vanishes too. And it just feels like it's eroding my memory. But this is a phase everyone goes through who tries to learn this stuff."

"I know. It's hard to believe. Let's try again."

Movement Three

You pick up the two half dollars. 

"I believe there are two coins in my right hand. I believe I'm taking one of the coins with my left hand. I believe I now have one coin in my right hand and one coin in my left."

You close your eyes.

"I believe the coin in my left hand is now dissolving away into nothingness."

You open your left hand. 

You open your eyes.

"Oh, hey! What's up?"

You look around and let it slowly dawn on you what's going on.

Movement Four

"I'm sorry. This is weird. I'm going to tell you something a little strange. Did you ever learn magic as a kid?"

She tells you yes, you already talked about this.

"Oh, we did? Good. Good. Oh...so you know everything. I want to try again and I want you to do me a favor. After I put the coin in my hand I want you to clasp my fist with your hands. When I close my eyes I want you to silently count to three and then say, 'You're vanishing a coin.' Okay?"

She agrees.

"Okay. Here goes nothing. I don't see any other half dollars so this might be the last one for a while. The truth is I don't know if it disappears because I believe it disappears or if it's here because I believe it's here. Well...either way. On with the show."

"Ladies and gentlemen," you say, very presentationally. "I am about to make this coin vanish. Nothing up my sleeves," you say, rolling up your sleeves. Then you abruptly stop.

Up and down both forearms are notes to yourself written in black marker:

Remember, you're vanishing a coin.
Amateur Magician's Handbook, page 79.
Be here. Only the coin goes.

Started with $600 in half dollars.
The Jerx - 10/14/2016
Hold onto the memories
Your name is Steven Drake. Your parents are Betty and Theodore Drake. You're 43 years old.


A dozen or so messages up and down your arms.

"Sweet Jesus... how long have I been doing this?"

You take the coin in your left hand and squeeze it. Your friend places her hands around your fist. After a few seconds she says, "You're vanishing a coin." 

"Ah... I remember," you say. "But it's still here." Your right fingers reach into your fist and remove the coin. 

"This time, maybe, wait until I open my eyes. But the moment you see them open say, 'You're vanishing a coin.'" She agrees. You take the coin back into your left fist and hold it palm down. Her hands go around your hand. You close your eyes.

After a few seconds you open your eyes. She says, "You're vanishing a coin." Your left hand opens in her hands. This is something of a weird tactile vanish of a coin. She doesn't see your empty hand but she can feel there's nothing there. Remembering the french drop lesson she will look to your right hand which is clearly empty as well. Your right hand joins your left as you softly squeeze and pat her hands.

"I vanished a coin?" you murmur. She nods.

You look gently into her eyes. "I'm sorry," you say, quietly. "Who are you?"


I can't really suggest to you how to end the interaction. The trick ends with "Who are you?" Where it goes from there depends on your spectator. They may laugh, they may sigh, they may punch you in the shoulder. If you're a good actor it may come off as a very wistful moment. You may immediately snap back to reality or you may play it out some more, slowly regaining your memories. 

Yes, this particular routine involves a bit of acting. But really nothing more than being confused and unaware of what's going on. That's something I'm sure you can handle, you box-of-rocks.

Let me be clear about the Romantic Adventure style of immersive effects. These aren't meant to be practical jokes. You're not trying to convince anybody of anything. But you should still play it straight to allow your spectators to emotionally connect to the situation. To get wrapped up in the story. You don't have to think something is real to be affected by it. (This is pretty well understood in every other art form in existence.)

But if you're doing everything with a nudge and a wink, you'll never get any reaction. It's like sexual role-play. You've got to be willing to commit to the fiction if you want to get those juices flowing, baby! 

In fact, that may be the most useful way to think about this style of presentation. It's a non-sexual role-play where neither your nor your spectator change personas. Instead you use magic effects to allow the universe to masquerade as something it's not.

How does this address the Seinfeld critique? It completely obliterates it. Seinfeld's critique was about the pointlessness of magic. That it's only purpose was to fool you. This style puts magic effects in a greater context. The coin vanishes in this routine are part of the story not an opportunity to make the spectator feel stupid.

Four Ways to Vanish a Coin, Part Three

As originally described here, the Distracted Artist style of presentation is one where the magician causes magic to happen either unintentionally or absentmindedly. If this sounds hokey to you, I understand why. It's because you've seen this style of presentation in a formal show where it's completely ridiculous. 

Magician: "I had no idea these handkerchiefs would knot themselves together!"

Audience: "Well, you brought them on stage. You're dangling them together by the corners. What exactly did you think you'd be doing on stage if not these magic tricks that you're pretending to be surprised by?"

But this style does work for the amateur, for these reasons:

1. You're not claiming magic is "just happening." You're just claiming that you hadn't intended to perform a trick now, under these circumstances. You just did it without thinking. This is logically consistent with a non-professional performance. Not so when you're standing on stage. 

2. It makes sense for such a moment to happen one time in a casual situation It doesn't make sense for such a moment to happen continually over a 45 minute show.

3. People don't really understand what it means to perform magic and practice magic as an amateur. They understand it in relation to shitty card tricks or the magic books they may have checked out of the library when they were a kid. But the things you're doing should seem far removed from those simple tricks. So maybe it is possible to absentmindedly perform a trick. You can noodle around on the guitar without really paying attention. Maybe small magic tricks can happen that way too. In the forthcoming example, the idea is that you were working on your coin vanish so much recently that now you're just automatically doing it even when you don't intend to. Is this believable? Maybe not. But it's relatable.

To understand the mindset, think about coin rolls. If you've ever done them regularly then you know that when you get good enough at them you will often pick up a coin and roll it across your knuckles without thinking. Now just extend that concept to an actual effect.

The Distracted Artist presentation lends itself very well to a two coin vanish.

Imagine

You're getting a bite to eat with a friend. You pull out a scratch-off lotto ticket.

"Do you have a coin?" you ask.

She puts a penny on the table. You pick it up and go to scratch off the card. "If I win, dinner is on me you say."

You look back at the hand that held the coin and it's gone.

"Oh crap. Do you have another coin?"

Your friend will be slightly confused. She saw you had the coin, but now it's gone. As she goes into her purse to get another coin you explain what happened. "I've been playing around with this new coin vanish and now it seems like every time I grab a coin I accidentally make it disappear. You know, it's like muscle memory. I'm not really thinking about it. It's a pain because I've lost like 4 bucks."

She sets a quarter on the table. 

"I feel like if I'm not super deliberate," you say, staring intently at the coin and slowly picking it up with your right hand.

"And suuuuuuppperrr cognizant of every move I make," you continue to give the coin 100% of your focus as you place it into your left hand. "That it's just going to disappear. You know?" For a brief moment you break concentration on the coin and look at your spectator for confirmation. Immediately you look back at your hand.

"Aw dammit, there it goes again." You open your hand to show the coin gone. 

"Do me a favor," you say, sliding the lottery ticket over to your friend. "Scratch this off. We'll split anything we win."

I'm particularly happy with the structure of this little 90-second vignette. The first vanish is a simple lapping vanish that happens on the periphery. The second is whatever complete vanish you perform. The first vanish catches them off-guard. Then the presentation completely justifies the deliberate actions of the second vanish. And the scratch-off card makes for a nice pretext for everything and a button at the end.

How does this address the Seinfeld critique? With the Distracted Artist presentation the magic is over before it starts. The spectator never has time to feel like they're being set-up. And your role of the magician is not one where you're trying to trick this person. You're just obliviously manifesting these little moments.

Tomorrow we combine these presentations and push them further into the outer limits on a Romantic Adventure.

Four Ways to Vanish a Coin, Part Two

Here's a second way to vanish a coin. 

The Peek Backstage

"Can I get your help with something I'm working on?"

In a blog full of brilliant ideas, the notion that this line is all you really need when showing people magic in casual settings is one of the best.

It's the most disarming line in magic. In an art form where the relationship between performer and spectator is often seen as an adversarial one based on a challenge, this line does something pretty extraordinary: it puts you and your spectator on the same side.

Not only that, but it's a universal line that works as well for people who are into magic as people who don't care for it. As you'll see below.

And finally, this approach clarifies what kind of transaction you're looking for with the spectator. "I'm going to show you something, and there is some particular kind of input or feedback I'd like from you." This is a very calming thing when performing for someone you don't know well. Imagine an acquaintance or a new friend said to you, "I'm going to sing you a song! Sit in that chair and listen while I sing." You'd probably think, "Uh-oh... what is this? Am I supposed to clap at the end?" But if I said, "Could you do me a favor and listen to this song I wrote and tell me if it's clear what the lyrics are about?" It would be much less weird. Now you have a job to do other than "appreciate me for my singing abilities."

When I know my spectator well, it makes sense to come up with a presentation that is more intense and somewhat tailored to that person. But for new friends or people I've just met—people for whom I don't yet know their appreciation for magic—I almost never do anything outside of this style.

With something simple, like the vanish of a coin, there is a way to tweak it a little to make the whole thing a little more bizarre and intriguing.

Let's assume you have a one coin vanish that ends very clean, with empty hands.

"Can I get your help with something I'm working on?" you ask. "Just hold still, right there for a moment."

Go through the motions of your coin vanish but don't actually do the vanish. Let's say the coin is now sitting in the palm of your hand.

"Can you still see it there?" you ask. They indicate that yes, they can, and you say, "Damn. Uhmmm. Let's try this." Now you rotate your body a small amount to the left or right (whatever direction is more advantageous for your vanish).

Now you do the vanish again, but this time you actually make it disappear. "Can you still see it now?" you ask, as if there is a coin there still to be seen. "No? Awesome. Thanks for your help, What kind of angle are we standing at would you say? 30 degrees?"

The implication is that some minute change of angle allows this coin to no longer be seen in your hand. For someone who loves magic, this is a fascinating notion. And it's exciting for them to get this peek behind the scenes. 

But the real benefit is how this presentation plays for someone who may not like magic. When people say they don't like magic, what they almost always mean is they don't like magicians. No one "doesn't like" seeing one dollar bills turn into $100s. What they don't like is the smarmy magician, his attitude, and the performer/spectator dynamic. In this presentation style you're not playing "the magician," you don't have an attitude, and the dynamic is one of equals. If anything you're asking for their help so they're the higher status ones. I've found this method can completely turn around previously skeptical or actively antagonistic spectators. People just tend not to be dicks when they've agreed to help you in some way.

How does this address the Seinfeld critique? By giving people a peek backstage and asking for their assistance, you are eliminating the dynamic of the magician being the know-it-all and the spectator being the simpleton. The spectator is now part of your team

Tomorrow, the Distracted Artist vanishes a coin.

Four Ways to Vanish a Coin, Part One

"I don't think anything competes with a magic act for humiliating entertainment value. What is the point of the magician? He comes on, he fools you, you feel stupid, show's over. You never know what's actually happened. It's never explained. And that's kind of the attitude the magician seems to have as he's performing. It's like, 'Here's a quarter. Now it's gone. You're a jerk.' Sometimes they ask you to blow on it. There's something mature adults like to do, blow on a deck of cards. I also love that little pretend look of surprise they do when the trick works. Like,'Oh, I didn't know that was going to happen myself. I even amaze me.'"

-- Jerry Seinfeld

As we come to the end of this season of the blog, I thought I would go back and look at one of the first ideas I proffered on this site: the three styles of magic presentation I find get the best reactions. Specifically I'm going to look at how you might approach each style in the performance of a coin vanish. This is something I went into more detail into in JV1,  but if you've read the Presentation Week posts from last summer, then you're pretty much up to speed.

Here is the first way to vanish a coin. The standard way.  It was described by Jerry Seinfeld in this clip from almost 40 years ago:

The audience is not laughing so hard because the joke is so clever, they're laughing because it's an observation they connect with. 

Magic, presented in the traditional way, often comes across like this. We like to imagine it doesn't. We like to think people see it as a richer experience than just being fooled. But there's a reason Seinfeld didn't go onstage and say, "What's the deal with magicians? I mean, they really remind us of the wonder that surrounds us every day, don't they? It's like, 'Here's a quarter. Now it's gone. You're experiencing the astonishment we associate the a child-like state of mind. Now it's back. You're more open to the mystery of everyday existence.'" He doesn't say that because very few people would resonate with that observation, so it wouldn't be very funny.

I'm not a big believer that you can force people to see magic in some particular light, but I do believe you can present it in ways that lessen or remove the stigma Seinfeld is talking about above. And when you remove that, you put them in a position where they're more inclined to see it as a positive experience (occasionally even a transformative one) not your weird ego trip.

So the first way to vanish a coin is the traditional, meaningless, "You're an idiot" style that Seinfeld alludes to.

As the week progresses we'll look at other approaches.  

Part Two tomorrow.

 

Gardyloo #15

If you're a Jerx completist, there is an effect of mine in the latest Penguin Magic Monthly.

It's not a new trick. You can see it here. 

Just to emphasize what a savvy marketer of my material I am, I received an offer a couple weeks ago from a magician you all know asking if he could buy the rights for that trick and have me take it off my website. It would have been a nice little payday, the best this site has provided to this point. Instead, I had already given that trick to Penguin to put in their magazine for which I received... I don't think I received anything! I have to spend $50 if I even want to get a free copy of the magazine! And there's nothing I really want to get until the Milk to Light Bulb is back in stock.

It's a good thing I'm part-sociopath or this sort of thing would probably get to me. Instead I'm just delighted that one of the strongest, most direct effects in the history of magic is now hidden away to be forgotten about in Penguin's free monthly magic thingy. 


Speaking of marketing. If you're a pro who does close-up gigs, you'll probably want to check out Andi Gladwin's second At the Table lecture. While it has a few tricks in it, the main selling point is the tips on marketing and crafting your website. It's like 8 bucks, so you don't have much to lose and the advice is really sound.

And it's always funny to watch Andi and Josh attempt to suppress the true nature of their relationship in public.


Here's a throwback.

I used to use the effect "Milk to Light Bulb" as a punchline on my old site. It's such a stupid idea for a trick that more than one person thought I had made it up as a gag. No, it's a real trick.

(When I started this site I didn't mention Milk to Light Bulb much because I realized there was an equally arbitrary trick that people had convinced themselves was good: bill to lemon. It's not good. It's meaningless impossibility. Like so much of magic. )

At any rate, I found a couple old pictures in a defunct email address with the label "funtime" on them. They're pictures of a friend of mine dressed up as Steve Brooks' old profile picture on the Magic Cafe. They were taken for a post on a fake product I had created called "Light To Milk Carton." Sadly the other pictures and the post they go along with are lost to time. And those pictures included my friend in his Brooks get-up pouring milk all over himself, and the money shot of the light pouring out of the carton. He has his suspenders tucked into his underwear because he didn't want to get back on the subway with milk drenched jeans. Understandable.


In fact, here is the first mention of Milk to Light Bulb from the old site:

Thursday, November 20, 2003

World's Dumbest Magic Trick? 

Why does this trick exist?

I don't get it. It seems so arbitrary. Milk to light bulb? Why not have an effect where a steel-toed work boot fills up with ravioli? Where's that effect? Why don't they sell an effect where a barbecue grill magically overflows with hooded sweatshirts?

It would be one thing if you could make a light bulb in your friend's house fill up with milk. It still wouldn't make any sense, but it would be very puzzling. But when you bring a lamp somewhere, turn it on, and then show that the light bulb is filled with milk, I think the natural reaction would be, "Hmmm, I guess he's a got a lamp that looks like it's lit even when the light bulb is filled with milk."

In fact your only defense would be to say, "Hey, if I was going to spend $275 on a magic trick, do you really think I'd buy one that caused milk to appear in a light bulb? That doesn't even make any fucking sense! So it must be real magic!" Although that logic is a little suspect as well.

What amazes me is that they claim to be better than all the other models on the market. There are other models!

Take a look at the pictures on that website. The guy pours the milk from a pitcher into a cone of newspaper, the milk vanishes, appears in a light bulb, which he pours back into the pitcher. Hey asshole! You should have saved us the time and energy and just left the milk in the pitcher to begin with!

If there is a more nonsensical trick out there, please let me know.

The Only Life Skill That Matters

[Weekends are for non-magic posts.]

It's amazing how much time people let tick-tick-tick away.

I travel a lot and so I spend a lot of time sitting next to strangers. There is some element of my personality or demeanor that makes people feel comfortable opening up to me. And I feel I have had conversations like this 100 times in my life.

Stranger: Yeah, well I just got out of a 16-year marriage.
Me: How long should the marriage have lasted? I mean, at what point did you know it wasn't going to work?
Stranger: Oh, after 8 months I knew we weren't right for each other.

Everyone is spending too much time in dead-end relationships, at dead-end jobs, and on dead-end paths. 

They're not confused or unsure. They might be scared or lazy. But either way, they're definitely paralyzed by the thought of action. Which is bizarre because action is the remedy for everything (depression, anxiety, boredom, fear, regret). Action is even the remedy for previously ill-thought out actions. It's like a drug that cures the complications from itself.

If there is something you want to do that you're not doing, I am going to propose to you a first step:

Take an improv class.

If you're anywhere near even a medium-sized city, you should be able to find an improv class. Go sign up for one.

"But I don't want to be a comedian."

That's not why you're taking the class. The improv community will offer you a whole host of benefits they say improv can bring. They'll tell you it will make you more confident. That it will make you a better speaker. That it will make you a better performer. That it will allow you to live in the moment. That it will increase your communication skills. Those are all pretty much true.

Then they'll give you some fruity nonsense benefits about how improv is an opportunity to "play" and use your imagination and be a kid again. That may or may not be true.

But all those real or imagined benefits pale in comparison to the one life skill improv teaches you, and it's the only one that matters: The ability to minimize the time between inspiration and action.

In improv you are encouraged to act on every momentary impulse. In real life you don’t need or want to act on every whim. But your life will be improved when you act on those things that are a "calling" to you. And once you become a person of action you will quickly learn to differentiate between the two (the whims and the callings). Improv will give you practice at becoming a person of action.

When you first start with improv, you'll have an idea and you'll sit back wondering if you should offer it up and the moment will pass you by again and again. You'll gradually begin to shorten that time between the moment you have the idea and the moment you act upon it. You'll be rewarded for action because it moves things forward. Improper action will be corrected through more action. Improv, at the highest level, is a bunch of people taking action simultaneously with the inspiration. Your life, at the highest level, should probably be something similar.

Or, you know, you can mull over every moment of decision, put off action, and weigh the pros and cons over and over until you're dead.

by Scott Dikkers

by Scott Dikkers

Transgressive Anagrams

[See update at the end of this post.]

For me, this concept I'm about to explain has been an evolution in my thoughts as far as how to approach the presentation of progressive anagrams/branching anagrams. (If you're not already familiar with PAs, this will make no sense to you.) It has allowed me to have a lot more confidence with progressive anagrams, and allowed me to do effects that are much more interesting to me and to my audience than standard PA effects are. It's not really a change in technique, it's a change in approach and intent. 

While I wouldn't be surprised if others had looked at PAs from this angle, it apparently didn't catch on because I haven't seen them addressed from this perspective in the material I've read. I also wouldn't be surprised if others hadn't pursued this angle in the past because it's somewhat counterintuitive. That being said, it is now the focus of how I attack progressive anagrams.

The idea behind the Transgressive Anagram technique is this notion: the best thing that can happen with a progressive anagram is when you're able to transgress beyond the naming of letters to something more compelling.

Instead of looking at progressive anagrams as a type of effect, lets look at them as a tool for divining information. In this way we can get around what will be the biggest stumbling block for understanding what I'm proposing. That stumbling block is the thinking that the best case scenario with a PA is when you name all the letters without missing any. The truth is that is the best case scenario for one type of effect. An effect that is probably one of the less interesting ones you can utilize a PA for.

With the Transgressive Anagram, the best case scenario is actually two immediate wrong letters. And why is that? Because now you know the word they're thinking of without apparently knowing anything. Now, that's bad if you're stuck in the presentation of being the man who knows letters in the word someone is thinking of. But it's really, really good if you're someone who is willing to pivot into a new effect entirely. After two wrong letters early on, it's perfectly reasonable to say, "Hmm... this isn't working. Let's try something else." And if you do something interesting, that letter guessing thing is a distant memory. 

Here's part of why the Transgressive approach is so powerful. In general, people don't equate denying your guesses with giving you information. Even though they're technically the same thing. For example, let's imagine you, Tom, and I are all friends. Tom is going to cook me a meal for my birthday, but he won't tell me what he's making. I'm pestering Tom to find out what it is. "Is it pizza?" I ask. He tells me it's not. "It's probably some type of seafood," I say.

"Nope. You're way off," Tom says.

Later that night you meet up with Tom to discuss the plans for my birthday dinner. "Does Andy know what you're making for dinner?" you ask.

"He has no idea," Tom says.

What Tom doesn't say is this: "He knows I'm not making pizza or seafood."

That's just not the way most people think. If you break it down for them logically they understand that knowing something isn't true is the flip-side to knowing something that is true, but that's not the natural way people look at things. 

So, let's cycle back to a progressive anagram that is constructed so you know what they're thinking after two NOs. If you get those NOs early enough, then you can skip out on the "naming the letters" process without apparently having gained much information. 

Before we get to the details of the process. Let's take a look at how this might play out in the real world. I'll use Atlas Brooking's superhero anagram for an example since it's widely known. If you're not familiar with Atlas' work on anagrams you will want to check out his Penguin Live lecture and his book The Prodigal.

Traditional Progressive Anagram

Performer: I'm seeing an "A."
Spectator: No. No A.
Performer: Oh... I see what's happened. The top of what I thought was an A is actually rounder. The letter is an R. There's an R there, yes?
Spectator: Yes.
Performer: And an I.
Spectator: No.
Performer: Are you sure? I'm seeing a vertical line. Oh... actually that might the base of a T. I'm getting a T. And an O. Are you thinking of Thor?
Spectator: That's correct.

Transgressive Anagram

Performer: 
I'm seeing an A.
Spectator: No.
Performer: Ooookay... hmmm. It could be an R.
Spectator: Yes.
Performer: And an I.
Spectator: No.
Performer: What the... seriously? Is there a G maybe? Never mind. Screw it. This isn't working. Let's try something more fun. You seem like more of a visual person. I tend to think in words but I'm betting you think more in pictures. So I want you to imagine this superhero, and if there's some kind of classic pose or move they're associated with, or something they're known for, I want you to try and project that to me.

[The performer stands about 10 feet away, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet, with the rest of his body hanging loosely, ragdoll-ish. For a few moments, nothing happens.]

Performer: Seriously though, I want you to imagine that hero—their presence—entering me. Really send it [A few seconds pass.] It won't work if--

[The performer's body jerks to attention. He does a jump and lands in a superhero three-point pose, pounding down with his right forearm as if he holds something in that hand. This is like a brief momentary spasm and then it's over. The performer sits loosely on the ground, laughing.]

Performer: AAAAHHH-hahahaha. That was amazing. [He stands up.] It's the dude. The guy with the hammer. [He snaps rapidly with both hands as if trying to remember the name.] The god guy.
Spectator: Thor.
Performer: Thor!

How do you think a spectator will remember that experience? Will they think, "He knew I was thinking of Thor because he knew there was an R in the name." Will they even remember the uninteresting, failed letter-guessing portion?

This is the Transgressive Anagram. Whenever possible, using the progressive anagram as a mental peek to get the word and move on rather than making it the process of the effect itself. 

Let's talk more about the actual workings...

The Transgressive Anagram is not just about transitioning the effect if you get a couple of NOs in a row. That's something people do frequently. Instead it's about setting up your presentation of the PA in a way which makes it natural and forgettable if you ditch it. The goal of the TA is to get out of the PA effect. The fallback—if it's not possible to get out—is to then do a more standard PA effect. If you think naming letters is already the most interesting way you have to reveal information, then there's no use performing the Transgressive Anagram. Just follow the rules of the standard PA.

This started because I was doing the astrology divination a lot. And I realized I was getting a better response when the letter portion failed early on than I was if it went well all the way through. When it failed early on I was in a position where I knew their sign, but they didn't know that yet. So I would act like we were going to try something completely different, and then do whatever I wanted. Something interesting. Something that grabs people's attention more than naming letters does. So I might ask them to step outside with me, close their eyes and turn their body slowly, stopping wherever they wanted. Then I would say, "Okay, you were drawn to this direction." I'd look off into that area of the night sky. "Hmmm... okay... at this time of the year that's going to be the area of the archer. You're a sagittarius." And they'd flip out. (It's pretty safe to fake where the stars are. Oddly enough, people who are interested in astrology have little interest in astronomy.) Then they'd go back into the bar and be like, "He could tell my zodiac sign by what part of the sky my body was drawn to!"  

They didn't say, "First he guessed some letters. That didn't really work out. So we went outside and he was able to figure it out." The letter part is a non-event. When they "remember the hits and forget the misses," I think a good portion of them forget the letter part altogether. Or they just give it no weight. So while they may not forget it immediately, it's something they will certainly forget months down the road looking back on this.

The Rules to the Transgressive Anagram

The whole idea behind the structure of the TA is to get you out of the PA early without drawing too much attention to itself. You can't speak with a lot of authority and justify your misses early on or else it will make no sense to abandon the effect. So the rules below—which are in contrast to much of what is taught with modern PAs—are designed to de-emphasize the first four guesses in the PA. 

For our purposes we'll break the PAs up into the first four letters, and all the letters that come after.

Rules:
1. Never justify any misses in the first four letters.
2. No matter where your first miss occurs, you brush past it with a mildly confused "Huh...Okay."
2. Don't speak with certainty and authority unless and until you've gotten past the four letter mark.
3. If you get two misses within the first four letters, abort the process. Say it's "not working," and move onto something intrinsically more interesting where you can reveal the information you now know.

That's our goal. To get out of this letter naming process and into something more fun. You should be able to do this just under half the time within the first four letters of a normal sized PA. I will, in fact, sabotage the PA to get out of it if I know the word in under four letters and and still haven't gotten two misses. For example, in the superhero anagram you will know Daredevil after three letters: one right, one wrong, and one right again. Instead of just listing off the rest of the letters in Daredevil, I will purposely get the next letter wrong. That puts me at 50% and it makes sense for me to say, "Oh, this isn't really working. Let's try something else." (Given the option between continuing to spell out letters or "absorbing" the spirit of the superhero they're mentally sending me, and then acting like I'm blind and tripping over my sofa, I will go with the latter 100% of the time.)

If you haven't figured out what their word is by the fourth letter, then you're too committed to back out and say it "not working" because, by definition, you will have only missed one letter at most by that point. So instead we're going to do our fall back effect which is the standard PA. 

You see, you're not losing anything by hoping to get out of this via the Transgressive Anagram, you're just putting yourself in a position to do something more interesting. You're only gaining something. That "best case scenario" of nailing every letter is already lost to you at that point. The idea is to transform a scenario with multiple early misses into its own best case scenario.

Let's say we don't get two misses in the first four, so we're stuck in the PA. Here is how I personally handle the possible situations going forward. 

Actually, before I get into that, one note about justifications. I don't try to overly justify misses. Sometimes it can come off a little like you're covering your ass. "Ah, yes. Not an M, but an N." I think for some audience members (not all) that comes off as a little phony. And I think you might be better off leaving things a little open-ended instead of immediately trying to cover your tracks and offering something too pat. Your experience may be different. 

This is how I handle the three potential PA situations assuming I don't get out of the PA within the first four letters.

First Possibility - I get two misses total. One in the first four letters, and one after that.

After the first miss my reaction is slight confusion, but I immediately press on. I just say something like, "Hmmm...okay." Upon the second miss I will try and justify my mistake. But I act as if it's for my own benefit than for the spectator's. And I keep it rather abstract. I think you're better off not knowing exactly what the issue is but apparently working it out later on. For example:

Performer: There's an A.
Spectator: No.
Performer: Hmmm... really? Okay, this might not work. I'm getting an R.
Spectator: Yes.
Performer: And an I.
Spectator: Uhm... yes.
Performer: An E.
Spectator: Uh-huh.
Performer: I'm seeing an H.
Spectator: No
Performer: [Second miss, now an implied justification.] You're sure? That's what I'm getting. Wait... are you seeing these in capital or lower case letters? Or some kind of mixture? [Regardless of what they answer.] Oh, I thought I mentioned to think in upper case [or whatever the opposite of what they say is]. Ooh! That's why the first one was off. Okay, okay.

[Here you're reaching back to imply that that's why that first letter was wrong too. You were anticipating the letters coming through in a different manner. Now I ask for a slight change of procedure. I ask them to imagine the whole word written out in front of them and I spell it directly. Now that we're on the same page it makes sense to finish it off quickly.]

Performer: See your whole word floating in the air in front of you. All capital letters. [I hold my hands out to indicate the area he is to picture it in.] Okay, first letter is an E. Sorry no. I'm looking at it backwards. W-O-L-V-E-R... Wolverine. You're thinking of Wolverine.

Second Possibility - I get two misses total. Both after the first four letters.

Here you've just rattled off four or five letters correctly then you get a couple wrong in quick succession. It doesn't make sense to try and justify those misses when you had been so clear and decisive on things up until that point. Instead I will shift the blame to them a little. 

[First miss] "Hmm... okay."
[Second miss] "Ah, you're losing focus. Let's switch it up."

The truth is, the longer someone concentrates on something the likelier they are to lose focus. So telling them they're concentrating less is something I think most people would see as true. It's almost a minor "hit." Then I will change the procedure so I'm making physical contact with the spectator and I'm getting the rest of the word by some physical means. This is not the same as the TA procedure.

TA Procedure = "That didn't work. Let's try something completely different."
This Procedure = "This has stopped working. Let's try a different technique to finish what we started."

Third Possibility - I get no misses or one miss.

I treat both of these the same, as, essentially, a perfect demonstration of pulling the letters from their mind. Give them the chance to forget or ignore the miss instead of feeling the need to justify it. Rattling off all the letters with one imperfection is close enough. It's not going to present a solution to the spectator. If one were to ever ask after a performance about the one misstep, then I'd make up some justification on the spot. "Why did I guess what? B? Did I say B? I have no idea. I kind of zone out during it and just say what I see. I could have misread something or sometimes letters get flipped."


People who teach progressive anagrams will tell you that you need to speak with confidence to fool people with the trick. You can't act like you're asking, you need to make it seem like you're telling them the letters that are there. That sort of confidence would be incongruous with the TA procedure where you're trying to move away from that part of the process as being a failure. So for our first four letters we don't act overly confident and don't justify things. We just say, "I see a B. I see an A." Etc. You might think this will weaken the effect if we have to stay in the PA past the first four letters. It doesn't and here's why: Only one of three things can happen with these first four letters.

1. You get two letters wrong. In which case you're bailing on the procedure anyway and confidence would draw unnecessary focus on a process you want forgotten.
2. You get all the letters right. In which case acting like you're confident is unnecessary. Your swift and accurate naming of four letters right off the bat is a demonstration of your confidence.
3. You get one letter wrong. Remember your reaction to your first miss is just a quick, mildly-confused "Hmm... okay." This can be seen in two lights depending on how the trick progresses. It can be seen as someone trying and failing at something. Or it can be seen as someone confident enough in what they're doing that they're not going to flip out over one misstep. Depending on where the trick goes after that miss, their interpretation of your reaction to that miss will be whatever seems more appropriate.

After you've made it past the first four letters, then you can ratchet up your confidence for the rest of the PA.


To reiterate, the Transgressive Anagram is an approach to the Progressive Anagram technique that allows you to do a hardcore bail on the procedure in what is usually seen as the worst-case scenario (multiple incorrect letters early on in the procedure). By making the process unremarkable—something where you had at best a couple lucky guesses—you are giving it the chance to be forgotten about. The letter-guessing process will get lost in the shadow of the more interesting effect you erect instead. 

With a traditional PA you will have a couple mistakes (or guesses that need justification/clarification) within the first four letters almost half the time. Instead of pushing forward (which can be seen as an admission that even your wrong letters are helping you proceed), you will act like a normal human who is hitting 50% on his guesses and say, "Fuck this. Let's try something different."


Notes:

  • From the anagrams I've worked on and used (which are not overly long), I've found that you should be able to either transgress out of the PA or complete it with one or fewer mistakes about 75% of the time. The other 25% of the time requires a little more dancing. 
  • Before this concept really unravelled for me, I used a similar idea in my effect Pale Horse and Rider from The Jerx, Volume One. That effect is all about turning weaknesses into strengths. The TA is all about that too. Taking the weakest scenario in a PA and making it the strongest.
  • While I tend to think and write with the amateur performer in mind, this makes sense for the professional too. Perhaps you sheepishly begin to send someone back to the seat after the initial failure. Then you change your mind and try to do something completely different.
  • If you transgress out of the PA, then revealing the superhero (or anything) by acting as if you can't remember his name (i.e., "Uhm... whatshisface... the Robert Downey Jr., dude.") is a nice, subtle convincer that you were picking up on something other than letters of the character's name.
  • Why did I use 9/11 hijackers for my trick Pale Horse and Rider? Three reasons. One is I needed them to think of a dead person for the trick. The second is that "Who is your favorite 9/11 hijacker" is a particularly stupid question I enjoy asking. The third is this cheeky bit of bullshit: No one knows the names of all but a couple of them. So I just made up names that sounded right and also made the anagram super easy. I made up a fake wikipedia page screenshot. And now they can pick any of them off the list. You could probably do something similar and less offensive by making up a list of high school friends or distant relatives or something.

UPDATE: I'm happy to have received a lot of positive feedback on this idea because as I was writing it I had no idea if it was making sense. I expected to be dealing with a lot of emails that said, "No, no, Andy. You WANT to get all the letters right." And what I spent 20 paragraphs trying to explain would have been for naught. 

But people seem to be on board. So much so that a few people have suggested the idea that maybe there's some way to re-construct a PA in order to get more NOs so you can move on to something else. I considered the same thing too and I was going to make Michael Weber figure it out for me because it's the type of logic-based method I don't excel at wrapping my head around. But after considering it, I don't really believe it's possible. Every outcome of a PA needs a unique string of responses from the spectator. And no string of responses can be an extension of another one. In other words, you can't have NO-NO lead to an outcome and have NO-NO-YES lead to an outcome as well. You would never get to NO-NO-YES, because you would have stopped at NO-NO. So you can't really front-load a lot of NO responses for the purpose of bailing on the anagram and finding out the word quickly.

I mean, what you could do is create some kind of reverse progressive anagram (henceforth known as a Regressive Anagram). Which means you'd know what the word was after two YESs. Now, if the goal was just to get more NOs than YESs, this would be a smart thing to do. But the goal with the Transgressive Anagram is not to get a lot of NOs, it's to get two NOs quickly and move on. A reverse anagram wouldn't accomplish this. Instead you'd have lots of long strings of NOs, often with you bailing on the procedure after the 6th or 7th letter. Sometimes after you finally got a yes. It wouldn't really make sense. And, in fact, you would essentially eliminate the outcome you want: a short, unsuccessful, unmemorable letter guessing sequence.

I bet there is some value in a Regressive Anagram, but not for the TA approach. I'm not sure what it would be.... Maybe some kind of comedy presentation. You walk on stage with a 6-foot tall trophy and a certificate of achievement and a big smile on your face. "Ladies and gentlemen... bask in my presence. You're looking at the world's worst hangman player. Officially recognized by the United Hangman Organization. Never got more than two letters right in my life. I'm not trying to brag or nothing." Then you go on to play a game of hangman. After at most two right letters, you know which letters to avoid. You're drawing every last body part until you're down to drawing individual pubes sprouting from his crotch.

"Is there a B?" No. "Is there a D?" No. "Is there an L?" No. "Is there a U?" No. "Is there an X?" No. "Is there a G?" No. "Is there an M?" No. 

That could make for a kind of funny back and forth. And if you had an index system of the possible outcomes then you could end the effect with a genuine surprise where there is some sort of natural prediction that matches up with the spectators mentally selected word. Maybe they're thinking of the word "canoe" and you say, "Dammit, I should have known. That's exactly the word I played today when the president of the United Hangman Organization beat me at the game." And you turn over your certificate of achievement and there is a completed Hangman game drawn on the back for the word "Canoe."