Gardyloo #56

"You're not thinking of a red card, are you?... I knew it."

If you use this type of sentence structure in the course of some sort of fishing in a mentalism routine, there's a decent chance you're not very good at what you do. I can make that statement because being a good mentalist (or magician) means being able to listen to your audience and give an honest assessment of what works and what doesn't work.

This weaselly sentence structure (that some mentalists suggest will be seen as a "hit" either way) has never—in the history of mentalism—come across as anything other than the mentalist flailing to get a piece of information that he has no clue about.

I've made this point before (in more detail) in an earlier post on this site.

This ploy has never caused a single spectator to think, "Wow, how did you know that?" And the reason it doesn't is because it's a question. It's said as a question. And your spectator realizes it's a question. 

But Andy, I've heard many famous magicians and mentalists use this sort of sentence structure while fishing.

I've seen it used by dozens of mentalists and magicians too. And when the spectator knows the potential options are binary, this only ever comes across as a dodgy guess. (If the spectator doesn't know the options are binary—if, for example, you know they're thinking of one of two cards, but they think they could have been thinking of any card in the deck—then this ploy is a little less transparent.)

In the previously linked post I suggest the alternative I use (which is to make a definitive statement and be right 50% of the time and deal with being wrong the other 50% of the time). I find this much preferable than coming across like a goon 100% of the time.

Here is 5th Beatle, Devin Knight, trying to use this tactic in his recent Penguin Live lecture. You'll notice the spectator doesn't react as if he's provided information, she reacts as if she's giving him information, because she is. And what does the audience do? They laugh, because it such a shitty, obvious gambit that they assume he must have meant it as a joke.


I had an email this week about the subject of hecklers and I was reminded of something that I want you to keep in mind if you're a non-professional. Especially if you're younger.

There is something that is true only for amateur magicians and for those who reach the status of, say, David Copperfield, and that is this:

You never have to perform for anyone who isn't 100% into engaging with your performance and enjoying the interaction.

Strolling performers, restaurant performers, guys who do corporate shows or school shows, kids performers—magicians at almost every other level— they have to work to win people over, at least some of the time. But you don't have to if you don't want to. 

As I said, this is primarily geared at younger performers who are concerned about dealing with antagonistic spectators, although it's true for all of us.

But understand what heckling is. Heckling is not someone saying, "You turned over two cards," or, "You still have the coin in that hand." That's not heckling, that's helping. Address the weakness in your technique or in the effect and you'll only get better. You don't need to fear this. If someone busts you, just say, "Damn. You got me." Don't let your ego get involved.

"Heckling" is when someone is unwilling to engage with the experience in a positive manner. You have the power in this situation because you can just choose not to perform for these people. It can be confusing because magic has the element of trickery going on so performers often confuse people not being fooled or noticing some element of the method as them being "hecklers," but don't get caught up in that trap. Remove the magic element altogether. Instead imagine yourself doing something respectable... like being a stripper. If you were an amateur stripper, stripping for someone who was being hostile, you'd just step off stage. You'd feel no inclination to perform for them, instead you'd go find the audience who is drooling, whooping, and creaming their jeans over your fat ta-tas and entertain them.


Penguin magic has hosted about 280 different lecturers for their Penguin Live series. Of those, I believe seven have died:

  • Tom Mullica
  • Daryl
  • Aldo Colombini
  • Harry Anderson
  • Bob Cassidy
  • Eugene Burger 
  • Don England

(When I say, "I believe," I don't mean that I'm not sure that those guys are all dead. I mean there might be more I'm not remembering.)

Now look, I'm not suggesting anything nefarious here. Just pointing out that if you lectured for Penguin there is a 1 in 40 chance you're dead. Test pilots and ice road truckers don't die that frequently.

Actually, what really made me think about this was the passing of Harry Anderson. His daughter and I run in the same circles and she's always been a delightful person to be around.

I was thinking of her and her father recently and so I rewatched her father's Penguin live lecture and I was very happy to have this record of his teaching and talking about magic.

You may not remember, but when the Penguin lectures first started, they got a lot of flack. I can't remember the reason why. I have a feeling there wasn't a reason why beyond, "This is something new so I don't like it." But now, a few years later, isn't it fortunate that we have good quality video of these people not only performing, but teaching magic as well (in a relaxed, conversational way—as opposed to the way they might teach on a commercially released magic DVD)? 

The fact of the matter is, that list of dead magicians... that's just going to get longer. And these live lectures are just going to become more valuable as a record of those we've lost as both people and performers. This may sound like the world's most morbid sponsored post, but no one's paying me shit for this. It's just something that was on my mind.

Here's a thought for Penguin. The next time someone dies (the smart money is on Andi Gladwin) make their lecture half price for a few days and donate all the proceeds to a charity chosen by the deceased's family. It's a win-win for everyone. And no, this isn't just some clever ploy of mine to save $15 by suffocating Josh Janousky and then picking up his lecture at a discounted rate.

Antica...

Supporter of the site, Steve. F, writes:

The Spring issue of X-Communication was really great. I bought the app you mentioned and ordered a couple of the other items too. I wrote you last year to say you reignited my old interest in magic which had dissipated over the past 20 years and that's still true.[Ed. Note: I've redacted some stuff here that is uncomfortably flattering.] I'm looking forward to the next book in a way I haven't looked forward to a magic purchase since I was young. 

Hey, thanks, Steve.

I'm happy to hear that you're looking forward to the book. I'm pretty excited about it myself.

I have a theory that I want to touch on briefly here. (I'll expand on it one day when I write my Guide to Life.)

I believe that anticipation keeps you happy and your mind and heart young.

The happiest people I know have things on the horizon they're looking forward to. I don't mean big things like buying a house or starting a company. I mean they have a lot of little trivial things they're excited about.

Maybe it's easier to find little things to be excited about when you're happy, but I think it also works the other way. I think if you find things to look forward to, you'll be happier generally.

At all times you should have something in each one of the categories (and once it comes to pass, you replace it with something else):

Anticipation Checklist

  • A movie you're looking forward to
  • A book you're looking forward to
  • An album you're looking forward to
  • A tv show you're looking forward to
  • A meal you're looking forward to
  • An event or outing (concert, play, author reading, amusement park visit, comedy show, athletic event) you're looking forward to
  • A party you're looking forward to (if no one invites you to parties then start throwing two every year: a summer gathering and a holiday party)
  • A trip you're looking forward to
  • Someone you're looking forward to seeing (or meeting for the first time)
  • A sexual encounter you're looking forward to
  • Something you're looking forward to in regards to a hobby (a magic book, a video game, a comic)
  • A plan you're looking forward to executing

The Times They Are A-Changin'

One of the things I always thought would happen when I started writing about amateur/social magic is that people would come out and say, "Oh, yes, here are the other books on the subject that were written over the past 100 years that you don't know about because you're a magic ignoramus." But that never happened. There were a few things here and there directed towards amateurs, but very little that looked at it seriously. Since I've started this site there has been more talk about it (because I am, obviously, a world-class thought-leader) but still not that much. It makes sense though. because while there is a huge population of amateur magicians, most of them perform rather infrequently. And to get useful insights and ideas, you really need to be out performing regularly. But the people who are performing regularly tend to be professionals, so most of what you read is from that perspective. To perform a lot as an amateur, you have to be independently wealthy or have stumbled into a situation where you started a magic blog that eventually evolved into a situation where people financially support the site which allows you to spend a lot of time trying out new material and going to bars, restaurants, coffee-shops, libraries, etc. in order to generate more social interactions and try out different ideas.  As I've said before, I'm the world's first professional amateur magician.  

I bring this up because what I want to talk about today is something that is a fundamental tool for the social magician. And it's something we should obviously be taking advantage, but there is almost nothing written about it in the magic literature because it's not a tool that is available to the professional performer. So no one bothers writing about it. Even people who aren't professional performers will tend to create magic to be used in a professional situation, so they ignore this tool too.

The tool I'm talking about is Time.

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As I was talking with a friend about some of the unpublished routines that will be in Magic For Young Lovers, I realized that a number of them followed a very non-traditional time-table for a magic trick. There's a trick that starts in the evening and ends the next morning, another that takes days (potentially weeks) to play out and concludes at a time you (the magician) don't choose, another where you "expose" a trick a couple hours after performing it and the exposure is actually more unbelievable than the effect.

The professional magician usually has to wrap up a trick in a few minutes. If he has a full-length show, he may be able to start a trick at the beginning of the show and wrap it up at the end, but he's still generally limited by the boundaries of the show itself.

As social magicians, we're often not constrained by the same time boundaries. And I've found that messing with the time element of a trick is a very good way to give people a richer experience than they may have with a more standard presentation. (I'm not suggesting that you need to turn every 2-minute trick into a 2-hour ordeal, but sometimes it's worth it.)

I would suggest if you have an idea for a trick that you feel is solid, but you're not getting the reactions you want from it, or it feels somewhat inconsequential, that you mess with the time-line in regards to how the trick plays out. I've found this to be a reliable way to generate a deeper experience from effects and it may be the key to amplifying the reactions you're getting from the trick.

Ideas and Examples

Let's say you meet someone at a party and they find out you do magic or mentalism. They write down a word (on an impression pad) tear off the page and you read their mind. This may or may not be a good trick depending on how you go about it. 

But consider this instead. They write down a word on a piece of paper, fold it up and put it in their pocket. "To be clear," you say, "I'm not really psychic. And I'm just learning how to pretend to be. So I'm not just going to be able to guess what you wrote. But I bet by the end of the night I'll figure it out." Maybe you actually wager some money on it.

Now, instead of a 1 minute trick, you're able to weave this effect all through the night. As the party goes on you check in with her from time to time, trying to get a feel for what she might have written down. Maybe you ask her some bizarre questions that you imply are designed to allow you a peek into her subconscious. Maybe you show her a funny video on youtube and while you're doing it she catches you trying to steal the slip of paper from her pocket ("What? I didn't say I'd read your mind, just that I'd somehow figure out what you wrote.")

And there can be different beats that play out throughout the night as you attempt different ways to figure out the word. In a professional show, a 10-minute presentation to guess a word is likely going to fall flat. But for the social magician, a presentation that is broken up into 10 one-minute moments throughout the night could be very fun. In this case because it's more than a trick, it's also a game (and if you're at all charming you could turn this into a playful flirtation (if you needed me to tell you this, you're not at all charming, don't try it)).

The night ends and you approach her with $20 in your hand. "You win. I have no idea." But as you give her the bill your hands touch and then you grasp her hand and twitch your eyes, Dead Zone style. "Wait... no... I got it... it's... doormouse." (Or however you choose to reveal you know the word.)

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I've mentioned before the Michael Weber idea of splitting up a multi-phase routine over the course of several interactions with a person.

This is a great way of extending the moment and using "time" to make a trick feel different. Look, a 10-phase ambitious card routine is—almost by definition—going to peter off after a couple phases. But if you just do three phases and then keep the person's signed card on your bookshelf and every time they visit you're like, "Remember this card you signed that kept rising to the top of the deck? Well I thought maybe if the deck was bound in rope then the positions of the cards couldn't change...but check this out." In other words, you could do a single phase each time you see them. Then, rather than having a jumble of moments in their head after one long multi-phase effect, they would have this one moment they could keep with them (at least until the next time you see each other).

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Other ways of using a time element to give people a different experience.

  • Tell someone you're working on a new trick, fail at it a couple times, and then a week later perform it for them and nail it.
  • Send someone a text in the afternoon asking them to stop by on their way home because you have something cool to show them.
  • Teach them a trick and then months later say, "I've been working on that trick I taught you." And show them something similar but with a wildly different method they could never conceive of. 

I would also direct you to the Presenting Coincidences post from a couple weeks ago for an example of what I consider a very satisfying modification of the "time" element of a standard trick.

I have more thoughts on this that will come out in the future, but this isn't the type of thing you really need someone to guide you through. With a little thought you'll find ways to adjust the time it takes for an effect to play out so that the tenor of the overall experience changes.

Insta-Creep

Let's flash back to June 11th, 2015.

What was going on then?

Jurassic World opened in theaters. Live to Tell by Madonna topped the Billboard charts. The Bridges of Madison County was the #1 NY Times Bestseller. Joseph Stalin executed eight army leaders as part of The Great Purge. And I took that pill that made me unable to recognize the annual passing of time, causing all of recorded history to collapse into one busy calendar year in my mind. 

Those were some good times. 

I also put a post on this site called "Spectator Cuts the Aces Three Ways," an early and foundational post in regards to some presentational ideas I would expand upon over the next few years.

The Creepy Child version (as well as Spectator Cuts their Future, from JV1) are still my most used variations on the Spectator Cuts the Aces plot. If you're not familiar with that variation, check the linked post above, of this won't make any sense.

Last week, reader Ari Isenberg sent me this image from his Instagram.

A post shared by Ari Isenberg (@arimagician) on

This is a great idea (Thanks, Ari). As much as I love the "Creepy Child Version," it has one big downside to it in that it only makes sense when you're near your own refrigerator. (An inconvenient prop for the strolling performer.) Of course, the drawing doesn't have to be on you refrigerator, but it adds a lot to the performance when it's found in some sort of organic location.

You could, of course, just carry around the drawing with you, pull it out of your pocket and unfold it and be like, "Look what my niece did!" But then you're taking away the strength of this routine, which is the idea that this wasn't something you planned all along. You want it to feel like a card trick that goes to this weirder place. Not like something you planned on going to some weird place. That narrows the scope of the trick rather than broadening it. 

So, Ari's idea to have this on your instagram is really quite good. It allows you to do this trick anywhere at any time. You can even borrow a deck and (with a little set-up) get into it. You don't need your own phone or computer. It's one of those things that, as they say, you could do "naked on the beach." (Even if you had a raging hard-on. (They never mention that condition, which seems pretty important if I'm going to be naked on the beach.))

You'd take the deck and get into the trick, and you're building up to the idea that the spectator has cut to the four aces. When it becomes clear that hasn't happened, you're left scratching your head and looking over the cards and then it dawns on you, "Wait, wait, wait. This is... Do you have your phone? Can you go on my instagram? I have to check something." And then it spirals out from there.

As Ari wrote in his email to me about his performance, "It was a ton of fun and got amazing reactions." I have no doubt. I guess I need to start an instagram now. 

Here are some touches in regards to how I'll set this up when I do it to make it perfect for my tastes.

1. Rather than just a picture of the drawing, I will have a picture of a kid in my life actually making the drawing with a caption like. "Chelsea knows how much Uncle Andy likes cards, so she's drawing me a picture of some." Aww, how adorable. This will help disguise that I'm setting them up for a trick because it seems to be a picture of my niece (or whatever) rather than just the drawing.

2. Then I'll wait a couple weeks and have another 10-20 pictures added to my instagram. At that point I'll put another picture up. In this picture I'll have the front page of that day's paper along with another child's drawing that's very similar to the image on the front page. (Not too similar. Maybe 65% similar.) And the caption will say something like. "Chelsea drew this last weekend. And now this is the front page of the paper? #coincidence or #creepykid?" Then I'd go on with my instagram, letting some more pictures push that one down the page.

Now I'm set to go into this at any time I have a deck of cards. Go into the ace cutting sequence, turn over the cards, notice something odd, ask them to go to my instagram. Have them scroll down and stop them at the most recent drawing pic, the one with the drawing and the newspaper page. "Okay... see this? I thought there was something weird about this girl but I had written it off as just a coincidence. But now I'm not sure what to think. Scroll down more." They scroll down more to the picture of this little girl doing the drawing of cards. You zoom in and see that the cards are a perfect match.

3. My ideal spectator would be someone who had—weeks or months earlier—"liked" the photo of my niece drawing weeks or months earlier. That would be cool. Imagine you like a photo of your friend's kid drawing something. Time passes and you forget about it. Then weeks later it turns out that the picture you liked was actually of the girl somehow drawing this moment you're now in.

What I particularly like about this is that it's a "big" trick, but it's also one that is always ready to go. There is no burden to be set up for this trick. Borrow a deck, cull some cards while taking out the jokers or just playing around with the deck, and you're good to go. Usually the tricks that you can get into "anytime, anywhere" tend to be "smaller" tricks conceptually (a broken and restored rubber band, a coin vanishes, etc.). They are cool moments but not the sort of thing where the spectator is taken on a journey. I'm perfectly happy with a trick that is just a "cool moment" and I'm not against tricks with big set-ups that have to be performed at a particular place in time to produce profound effects. But I'm definitely always on the lookout to find or create immersive, expansive effects with no onerous set-up, and this is definitely one of them. (Check out There In Spirit in the Spring 2018 X-Comm for another example.)

Gardyloo #55

The Free Hyper-Critical Test Audience

In the last post I talked about how valuable a hyper-critical audience is and I mentioned how I go about obtaining one. 

Over two and a half years ago I also talked about this concept, but I mentioned another way to obtain such an audience without paying for it. And that is just to strip your performance of any presentation and just be a dick during it. This is another way to encourage brutal honesty from the people watching your trick (while it's in its developmental stages, I'm not suggesting you do this all the time). 

As I wrote in this post:

I then came up with a little test for the effects I would perform. Before working on a real presentation for them, I wanted to evaluate the foundation of the effect first. So I would perform it a few times with this style of presentation: "Hey, ya big dingus. I'm going to read your mind now, because I'm a genius and you're a fucking idiot, so brace yourself." Maybe not those exact words, but that attitude. Now, just try and do one of your cute prop-less math-based "mind-reading" tricks with that presentation. You will get eviscerated. But when you find material that stands-up to this type of antagonistic presentation -- where the spectators are blown away despite themselves -- and then you add on a presentation that is personal or emotional you will find yourself getting those explosively strong reactions you've imagined.

So if you don't have money to buy a hyper-critical audience, just be an A-hole. (Paying for one or being an asshole is also a good strategy if you're trying to meet a girl with low self-esteem.)


Earlier this year I wrote quite a few posts about using Google Home in the process of a magic trick. (Here's the first post, there are others.)

Friend of the site, Nick Olson, wrote in to tell me you can do the same (or at least similar) things with Alexa now. 

This should get you started in the right direction if you have an Alexa.


In a previous post I mentioned my friend Andrew's vintage board-game themed "wonder room" concept. I also mentioned that each open deck in his collection is prepared for a specific trick with an extensive set-up, so he can ask someone to grab any deck and immediately be ready to go into a trick that is dependent on a significant or full-deck stack.

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He has a good way to rehearse and remember what deck is set for what trick as well. Since these decks are on display and meant to be handled by laypeople, he removes any double-backed, blank-faced, or other extra cards the decks may come with. Then on one of those cards from each deck he adheres the name of a trick and the stack for that trick.

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So he has a whole group of cards like this with different backs and trick set-ups on the front. This way he can use them almost like flash-cards to associate the back design with the trick name, and he can cycle through this group of cards on a regular basis in order to practice each effect. And, most importantly, he doesn't have to break out a book, DVD, lecture, or manuscript to re-set the stack. He just refers to the card. It's a very tidy system for rehearsing and keeping track of stack-heavy card tricks.


Do you suffer from depression? Are you suicidal? Did your old middle-school bully just withdraw all your money from the bank and use it to start a fire with which to burn the love of your life to death?

Cheer up, pal. Do what I do when I'm in a bad mood. I look at the cover for one of the fake-as-shit books that came with Larry Becker's Final Flashback and it always brings a smile to my face.

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Guys, this wasn't some sort of rough draft. This was the final product. Yes, it looks like it was thrown together by someone who got their first computer within the last 3 weeks and banged this out on MS Paint. It looks like the type of thing you would hand to an actual graphic designer and say, "This is embarrassing, but it's just so you get a sense of the general layout I'm looking for. Obviously the final product won't include this idiotic stock photo, this terrible font, or these meaningless quotes on the back."

If you paid someone on Fiverr to create this book cover for you, you would expect at least three dollars change. 

Seriously, let's look at some of these quotes on the back cover.

"Like a movie, without the noise." So... like a silent picture? A movie without the noise? What could they possibly be trying to say here? "This book is like a movie without sound. It sucks."

"[New York Stock Exchange] fast food." Does the person who put this together know that the quotes on the back of books are generally complimentary? Not confusing or meaningless. "A thrill-ride that grips you by the throat and doesn't let go!" See? It's easy. Can someone explain to me why these are so goofy? It must have something to do with the method, right? I get the sense there is a crib on the back with the numbers and letters, but is there some reason the quotes had to be so stupid?

"Bad vibes for common groups." Say what? This doesn't even make sense as a fucking sentence, much less a quote to put on the back of a book. 

I understand that it's very difficult to make a fake book (or magazine) that looks legitimate. But at least try a little bit if you're going to sell that shit for $175. This cover screams fake book even more than this cover does. Even from a distance, in a parlor situation, this is obviously phony. Normal, everyday, common groups of people are definitely going to get sketchy feeling from this cover. It's certainly something that will generate bad vibes for common groups. Oh shit... that's where that comes from.

This image of the Band of Brokers really gets around online.

They're trial attorneys.

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They run a talent agency.

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They also offer corporate spa packages. (The guy in the blue shirt will jack you off for $10)

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The Hyper-Critical Test Audience

On Monday I wrote that today's post would be dedicated to "a resource to help you identify and/or create much stronger material." 

I don't think this resource is something that everyone needs, but if you're someone who wants to put out your own material or wants to perform professionally or simply wants to perform unquestionably the strongest material you can, then it's something you should consider.

And that resource is finding a Hyper-Critical Test Audience.

Most often, when magicians are testing new routines, they will test them on other magicians or on a spouse or significant other who has seen a lot of their material.

As far as test audiences go, these groups are almost useless. They might be able to tell you if you're flashing or something like that, but you could use a video camera to tell you the same thing. It's nearly impossible for someone with any type of specialized knowledge to view something from the perspective of someone without that knowledge. With magicians, they will often not flag something as a weakness or as being suspicious because they assume they only noticed it because of their familiarity with the subject (and not because it is, in fact, obvious to anyone watching).

For example, let's say you have a double-lift that's not great. A total layperson might say you're doing something weird when you pick up the card, and you know that's something you need to work on. But another magician will often see the double and just assume he recognizes it because of his background in magic, and will assume that a layperson would never see it.

I have an elementary school friend who went into CGI special effects later in life and he says that while they may look to another effects artist for a quick assessment of something, when they want some real feedback on how good something does or doesn't look, they bring in someone from outside that division altogether. The UPS guy can give better feedback in some respects than the head designer. It's not that other CGI artists are too critical, they're too dismissive—often assuming that they only notice something because of their trained eye.

Magic is, of course, just another type of special effect. 

Friends and loved ones—once they've seen a lot of magic—are pretty much just as useless as far as feedback goes. The knowledge they gain over time ends up distorting their ability to give a genuine reaction and that's further complicated by the fact they (hopefully) like you. And you don't want their personal feelings affecting the nuts and bolts of determining the strength of a routine.

Finding a Hyper-Critical Test Audience

This is harder than you'd imagine. Generally people want to be nice to performers.

Many years ago, when I first got involved with the focus-group style testing of magic tricks in NYC, it was something a few friends and I were doing just out of curiosity and to settle some bets. And when we brought our first groups of people in we were kind of astounded at how clueless they were about certain effects. They really have no idea how that bill is floating? Then someone suggested giving them a small bonus to offer a potential solution, and all of a sudden everyone knew the bill was suspended from something that just wasn't visible from their position.

We had brought these people in and told them they were getting paid for their feedback, and still they were reluctant to offer the solution that was in their mind until we made it very clear that's exactly what we wanted from them.

Testing things on a large group is expensive, but for most purposes, you just need to get something in front of a couple of people to spot any potential weaknesses.

Here is what I do.

1. I put an ad on the "gigs" section of craigslist indicating that I'm looking for people to provide feedback on a creative project I'm involved in. I make it clear that it requires no special knowledge (but I also usually say I'm looking for college graduates). I say we'll meet in a public place (usually a cafe or a library) for about an hour and they'll be paid $40 for their time. I don't mention magic at this point.

2. When we meet up I indicate that I'm working on a project with a magician (or a magic company of some sort) and that we're in the early stages and we're looking to get people's unadulterated opinions on some effects. The reason I say we're in the "early stages" and that it's part of "someone else's" project is because I want them to not be at all concerned about my ego.

3. Then I show them tricks. You can easily get through 30 or 40 in an hour if you cruise through them. But I go pretty slow and usually get to about 10 or 12. After each trick I try and get them to offer some ideas in regards to how the trick was accomplished. I make it clear that this is what they're there for. And that they shouldn't hold back from mentioning anything they noticed or thought was suspicious. 

4. This is important: You want as little presentation as possible. The purpose of this is to test the strength of the method. It's too easy to win people over with a charming presentation and a not so great trick. Or to earn their sympathy with an overly-earnest presentation. You don't want that. We're looking for one thing from them—an honest assessment of how fooling the method is.

Magician's notoriously despise honest feedback. When practicing the pass in a mirror, they'll blink at the critical moment. That's how delicate they are. They don't even want an honest assessment from themselves.

But I think you'll find that when you seek out and pay money for a hyper-critical test audience, you don't have any of those hang ups. You'll quickly learn to want this person to be as honest and critical as possible because that feedback is so valuable. Sometimes there's no real way do address the issues they notice, but more often than not there is. And once you send a trick through this testing a couple times—and address the potential concerns that are brought up—you go from this flabby, rough effect to a tight, impenetrable mystery.

I've said in the past on this site that I want to train my audience to the point where they're willing to play along with me. But I mean this in the sense that I want them to play along with the presentation. When it comes to the method, I want them to feel like they can be as engaged and critical and "defensive" as they want to be.

There is nothing so detrimental to the impact of an effect than when the spectator feels they have to go along with some questionable aspect of the method. (This is why I suggested in Monday's post that propless mentalism sometimes gets a lesser reaction than you might expect; because with many propless effects the spectator often has to "play along" with the method, not just the presentation.)

If you use testing to identify a truly rock-solid, unassailable method and then you build that up with a really interesting or fun presentation, that will give you the most satisfying experience for you and your audience. I love watching someone smiling and laughing at the conclusion of an effect (because they were taken with the presentation and the clever way it concluded) and then you see their mind working and their face scrunches up and they're like, "Wait... that's fucking impossible." And you can tell the more they think about, the harder it's hitting them. It doesn't let up. (Contrast this with a trick like Kolossal Killer, which gets a strong initial reaction when they see their card come from the wallet, but as the spectator considers things it gets less and less impossible. "Well, I didn't see what else is in the wallet." "The message on the back wasn't really specific." "Maybe everyone says that card." etc.)

I'm definitely a presentation first sort of person. And I will even take a thrilling presentation over a fooling trick if those were my two options. But obviously having both is ideal. A hyper-critical audience allows you to refine your tricks until they have genuinely bulletproof structures. Then, over time, you can hone your presentation so it is equally as strong. That combination literally* kills people.

* not literally

MFYL Preview

In November of last year I sent an email to 56 of my friends.

In it, I said there was a magic site I read regularly that was holding a contest looking for stories that recounted memorable magic performances. Ideally emotionally resonant ones. And I asked if they got the chance if they could let me know what trick I showed them that was the most memorable.

It was a bit of an odd email because I was pretending like I read some dumb magic site, when really I write some dumb magic site.

The purpose of the email was designed to elicit information for the forthcoming book.

50 of my friends responded and the list of effects that left the longest lasting impressions on them were pretty varied. Some of the effects weren't ones I created. And some have already been described in my first book or in The JAMM. But there were a number of routines that I haven't published anywhere yet and those routines will appear in Magic For Young Lovers, with excerpts from my friends' responses intro'ing the effect. MFYL is in the early stages, but I'm happy with how it's coming together.

One of the responses to my email request started:

"I don't know if it was 'emotionally' resonant but the one I'll never forget is the one where you sent me the licorice and picture of your dick in the mail."

To be clear, it was an artistic rendering of my dick. 

And yes, that trick, Dickorice, will be in MFYL.