No Sidetracking

Here’s a video of Craig Petty performing some shitty key prediction trick. (It’s not his trick.)

The trick itself is wildly flawed. Unless you have late-stage Parkinson’s disease, there would never be that much pen movement involved with writing down a number.

And you end up with the goofiest reveal in the history of magic. A digital read out sticker (with clearly markered-out lines) on the back of a wooden key tag.

This trick has TWAT nomination all over it.

While the trick is obviously room-temperature dog vomit, I want to talk about his presentation, because he does something I see magicians do a lot. I have no idea if Craig would perform it like this in real life. Probably not. But it’s illustrative of something I have seen people do in real life, and I think it goes against what you’re striving for with magic.

Well, I can’t really say that, can I? I can only say that it goes against what I’M shooting for with my magic.

So Craig starts off the trick and then 45 seconds in, he veers off into a three-minute story about some shitty place he stayed at once and kid’s underwear. (I think? I didn’t quite follow it.)

He tries to bring it back around to the trick at the end by saying, “The reason I'm telling you that is because this place actually used um these old-fashioned style keys.”

That’s a very tenuous (some would say nonexistent) connection between the trick and the story.

You might think, “Well, it’s a funny story. So who cares if it has anything to do with the trick. People like funny stories.”

Yes, okay. And if you’ve been hired to be “The Entertainer,” then mixing your tricks with stories and jokes may be the way to go.

But social performing is not about being an entertainer. It’s about the experience, the mystery, the interaction, the interesting or fascinating object or idea. When it becomes about you, that’s when it starts to feel a little desperate. (Whereas in a professional performing environment it is about you.)

I think some people think that since it’s meant to be casual, then of course you might go off on a tangential story, or tell a joke, or dig deep into their opinions about things.

But what I’ve found is that if you want people to feel like what you’re showing them is fascinating, then you need to present it like you’re showing them something fascinated.

Think of it like this… If I had video evidence of a ghost on my phone, and I started showing it to you, and I was making jokes and commenting on the wallpaper in the video and pausing and saying, “What about you? Have you ever seen a ghost?” It would be difficult to get you truly enthralled in THE THING I’M SHOWING YOU.

But if I was quiet and focused and treated it like it was something that I found legitimately creepy, then you would find yourself feeling that way too. You can’t help it.

I’m certainly not always serious when I perform. I rarely am. But I’m never sidetracked (unless it’s a situation where the magic moment is coming as a total surprise to me as well).

Be as focused on the trick as you want them to be. The moment you start doing shtick is the moment they feel, “Oh, I guess whatever he has to show me isn’t that interesting.”

Mailbag #115

I liked [the post Keep Feeling Fascination] and it made me remember the words I heard from Michael Weber once, how we consider people we are performing magic for :

1- Audi ence  ( From Latin for, to listen )
2- Spec tator ( From Latin Spectare, to look at)

3- PARTICIPANT ( From Latin Participatio, to share ) ( helpers)

I try to keep this words in minds and go for the latter and I believe that your post was also sharing the same thing.—KQ

Yeah, I think I was hitting on a similar idea.

Although in practice I tend to use all of these in my write-ups. “Audience” for when I’m talking about performing for a larger group, “Spectator” when their role is more passive, and “Participant” when it’s more active. Although, that’s not always the case. Sometimes I mix it up just for the sake of adding some variety to the language used in the write-ups.

I like to think I pioneered the descriptor I use most of all to characterize the person you’re performing for:

FRIEND (From German, meaning “someone you’re not just desperate to fool because you’re craving attention and validation you didn’t get in high school”)

A friendship is a mutually beneficial relationship with someone whose company you enjoy.

I think social magic is best when it fits into this framework.

If they sense you’re showing them something for your own benefit, then you seem needy and desperate for approval.

If they feel like you’re showing them something solely for their “entertainment,” then it becomes a weird dynamic for a social interaction.

But if it feels like you’re doing this thing became it’s both something that fascinates you and something you think will be of interest to them—then you have something that will feel like it belongs in the context of a casual interaction. Even if it’s something completely bonkers.

---

Was hoping you'd be willing to weigh-in. When it comes to card to impossible location, I've come around to the idea that the card being signed would make the effect weaker, not stronger.

This is for one reason: if the card is signed, and there's no such thing as real magic, then the only explanation that your participants would be able to come up with -- that you secretly moved the card without them seeing -- is the actual, correct method. In fact, if the card is unique, then that is the ONLY explanation.

It's guessable.

Conversely, if you plant a duplicate (and have a /decent/ card force), then you have a HUGE number of options. Show the destination empty, and you literally never go anywhere near it. Planting duplicates on the spectator before the performance begins ("putpocketing"), etc.

The method shouldn't be the effect, and if you use a signed card for your signed card to impossible location, then the method is the effect... and it's the exact method your audience would be able to guess on their own... and they'd be right.

Thoughts?—CS

The good news is, I agree with you.

The bad news is, you’re 100% wrong.

The part you’re wrong about is that the same trick performed either with a signed or unsigned card is always more impossible when the card is signed.

That’s true whether the card appears in your pocket, or if the card appears on the dark side of the moon. It doesn’t matter.

So this statement: “When it comes to card to impossible location, I've come around to the idea that the card being signed makes the effect weaker, not stronger” is not accurate, all things being equal.

The point I think you’re making, and where I agree with you, is that we as magicians (especially as amateur magicians without secret helpers or performing in a formal environment) can likely create stronger card-to-impossible-location effects with a duplicate rather than signed card.

As a solo performer, the most impossible location the signed-card can appear still has to be somewhere within my reach.

But if I use a duplicate, it can appear anywhere. Of course, using a duplicate on its own isn’t enough of a deception. But you can pile on the deceptions. You can use a force that is very clean and allows for free choices. You can allow them to determine where the card appears (by using DFB or something similar). And so on.

And don’t sleep on the torn corner. The torn corner gives you the best of a duplicate, along with much of what you can get with a signed card.

To recap, in theory, any individual card-to-impossible-location effect is made stronger and more impossible with a signed card. But all card-to-impossible-location effects are on a spectrum. And of the effects that are actually doable by magicians, I would say the methodologies and deceptions we can use with a duplicate are generally stronger than the ones we can use with a signed card.

Since my goal is to do the strongest magic, I would always choose to have the card signed, if that was an option. But since my goal is to do the strongest magic, I wouldn’t limit myself to only tricks where the card is signed.

Dustings #108

The eclipse performance went over spectacularly. We were gathered at my friend’s lake house on the northern border of New York state. I spun the top on my palm a few times leading up to the event, as if I was trying to get the right “feel” for it.

In reality, I was trying to gauge the interest and make sure the moment was going to be right. The first time I spun it, one of my friends asked me about it, and I said something about how there’s supposed to be a moment during or around the eclipse that affects spinning objects strangely. Had he just said, “Oh,” and turned around, I probably wouldn’t have bothered with it. But he showed some interest and asked some follow-up questions. So I decided to go forward with it.

In the hour or so leading up to the event, I was able to get everybody in the group on board to the idea that I was waiting for this one moment where the “anomaly” would occur. I hadn’t decided if I was going to do it during the totality of the eclipse or just afterward. I knew we would have a few minutes of darkness, and what I wanted to show them would only take a few seconds. But still, I didn’t want to take people away from this potentially once-in-a-lifetime event for them to bring the focus on me. “Hey everyone! Over here! Stop looking at the moon passing in front of the sun. You can see that again when it happens 55 years from now. Instead, give ME your attention. I’ve got something fun to show you from former Ellusionist general manager, Adam Wilber!”

So I was going to feel it out. Magic at a special event can come off as a superfluous distraction. Or it can be the perfect finishing touch. Like a little bookmark for their mind that focuses their memory on that one moment, from which they can extrapolate and remember everything else going on around at the time.

I wish I could tell you how to know when a moment is, and when a moment isn’t improved with a trick, but it’s something you just have a feel for, I guess. Like knowing if it’s a good idea to go in for a good night kiss at the end of a first date. I’d like to think you’re attuned enough to the situation to trust your instincts. But I can’t say most magicians I’ve met give me that kind of confidence.

For my situation, though, it worked out perfectly. After just being still in the darkness of the eclipse for a couple of minutes, I noticed people’s attentions turning from the sky. I considered that an opening. “Oh, wait… I almost forgot I said.” I spun the top on my hand, where it lifted and floated to my other hand. “Holy shit.”

I tried again, but the anomaly had already past. Well, there’s always, 2079.

---

Tuesday’s post reminds me of something I’ve done in the past.

I’ve used it when doing something like a Triumph routine with a Cheek to Cheek deck. I’ll ask my friend if I can practice some sleight-of-hand and get their opinion on how it looks. Now, the Cheek to Cheek deck doesn’t need any sleight-of-hand. It’s a gimmicked deck. And if they get it in their head to examine the deck, then you’re sort of screwed.

By saying, “I’m going to do sleight-of-hand,” I find that people become much less interested in the deck at the end. For laypeople, “I’m doing sleight-of-hand” is both exposure and explanation. They don’t need to examine the cards at the end, because you already told them how it works.

So if you’re dealing with a lot of heat on a gimmick at the end of a trick, you can maybe deflect some of it by indicating at the start that what you’re showing them is sleight-of-hand. (Assuming it’s the sort of thing that theoretically could be accomplished via sleight-of-hand.)

I don’t use this technique anymore because I don’t really ever want people thinking I’m better at sleight-of-hand than I actually am. But you may find it helpful in certain situations.

---

I’m reading the book Paperbacks from Hell by Grady Hendrix. It’s a great discussion of 1970s and 80s horror paperbacks, with 100s of pictures of some of the crazy covers of those books.

It’s always good to remind yourself of the stereotype of magicians—what you need to fight against. And this book really slaps you in the face with one:

“Hating clowns is a waste of time because you’ll never loathe a clown as much as he loathes himself, but a magician? Magicians think they’re wise and witty, full of patter and panache, walking around like they don’t deserve to be shot in the back of the head and dumped in a lake. For all the grandeur of its self-regard, magic consists of nothing more than making a total stranger feel stupid. Worse, the magician usually dresses like a jackass.” —Grady Hendrix

Fair enough.

37

Jonathan T. writes:

If you haven't seen already, thought you'd find this interesting potential premise fodder.

It’s a good idea.

Let’s talk about crafting the idea so it builds in a satisfying and surprising way.

I would probably do the standard 37 force on them first. Then explain it and show them parts of this video.

“But it gets weirder…,”

Then I would do something that forces a three and a seven from a group of playing cards or number cards. So, something like the Gemini Twins force. This twists the concept in a small but significant way.

We’re still using numbers. And we’re still hitting on the number 37 in the end. But while the first phase—and the psychological appeal of the number—has some logic to it, the idea that you would be drawn to those numbers as individual cards in a deck seems much more abstract.

But… possible? I mean, maybe when you showed them the cards in the deck, their mind subconsciously picked up on the threes and sevens because it’s geared to identify those numbers (especially after discussing them for the past few minutes).

So we’re pushing from a psychological feasibility to something with a much more magical quality.

Now let’s take it to another level, while seemingly still rooted in the world of numbers and mathematics.

You have your friend multiply a “favorite” two-digit number, times a “random” three-digit number, times a four-digit number that “has some meaning to them.”

You end up with a random number. There is no immediate 37 connection.

You write the number down so you can refer back to it. You have your friend divide the number by 37 to see if that gives us any information. But it doesn’t divide evenly. You add up all the digits in the number, but that doesn’t get you 37 either. The square root, maybe?

You turn the number towards your friend.

“I bet it’s in there somewhere,” you say. “I just don’t know exactly how. People are so drawn to the number that it’s almost always is ingrained in these numbers that seem arbitrary or random.”

Then you see it.

“Holy shit.” You pick up the paper and start tearing and folding it.

No, 37 isn’t in the number. But 30 SEVEn is.

For me, this feels like an ideal progression.

You have the original psychological force, which is… fine. Sometimes it gets a pretty good response. Other times, just okay.

Then you have the explanation of this phenomenon with the video (again, I wouldn’t watch the whole thing with someone, just highlights). This roots the phenomenon in the real world in a way that makes some logical sense.

The phase with the cards takes this in a different, but potentially believable, direction.

And then the finale, where the numbers somehow spell out letters, is something that’s clearly not psychology, or mathematics, or anything like that. It’s surprising and magical, but it’s not a randomly tacked on magical element. It’s still firmly rooted in the premise that you established (that the number 37 weirdly shows up everywhere), but in a way they wouldn’t have anticipated.

(The method for the final phase is, of course, the TOXIC force and Cryptext. Cryptext could be used to fully spell out THIRTYSEVEN, but the number gets too long for my taste. And I sort of like the “sloppiness” of the way the number is revealed. It’s not too cutesy.)

Spont: Wallet Cards

I’m trying to think the best way to introduce this idea to you. If I tell you how much I’ve been getting out of this idea recently, your expectations are going to be raised and when you read it you’ll say, “Huh? That’s it?”

But if I don’t hype it up for you somewhat, I think you’ll underestimate the idea.

It’s definitely a small idea.

It’s possibly something that other people are already doing without thinking too much about it. But I just stumbled on it myself recently.

It’s a Spont.

What’s a Spont?

A Spont is a concept I wrote about a few weeks ago. At that time, Spont was a placeholder name, but now I’m sticking with it.

Sponts are techniques you can use to make a trick feel more spontaneous. They make the interaction feel less planned. And they lower the friction between performing and not performing.

This is a Spont for use with wallet card magic.

As you probably know, wallet card magic is magic that’s done with a card you keep in your wallet (and if you didn’t know that, I’m sure you could have surmised that).

Some examples that I have carried around are Chroma by Mark Lemon or Pictionary by Michael Weber.

Contact by Rick Lax is a that uses a single playing card you can keep in your wallet.

Paul Carnazzo has a whole series of them. (I’m not familiar with his work, so I can’t comment on them, good or bad.)

The best thing about wallet card tricks is that you can carry them around in your wallet. Very convenient.

The worst thing about wallet card tricks is the, “hold on, let me get my special little card I carry with me to show you a trick” moment.

There’s really no way to naturally stumble into the trick. The card is hidden away in your wallet. Sure, I guess if someone says to me, “I was just thinking about the subject of color cognition,” I can pull out Mark Lemon’s Chroma and say, “Oh, I just happen to have a card on me that tests such things.” But sadly, it’s a subject that rarely comes up.

So there’s always that moment between our normal conversation, and the point where I’m digging in my wallet to get a card to show you a trick.

I know most performers don’t care. Most magicians would say, “Just tell them you want to show them a trick and reach in your wallet and pull out the card. What’s the big deal?”

I get it. But that moment—that moment where they go from a normal interaction to being the audience for a magic trick—is my least favorite moment in casual magic. The more abrupt it is, the less natural it feels, the more their guard is up. Sanding the edges off that moment is an essential element of social magic.

Okay… enough build up. So what’s the technique I’m talking about?

I don’t keep wallet cards in my wallet.

Instead, I use them as bookmarks.

Underwhelmed? That’s fair.

But I’m telling you, it feels so much better to get into one of these tricks this way, rather than pulling the card out of my wallet.

I can have the book out when I’m at a café or elsewhere in public where I might interact with people.

I can have it sitting on my coffee table or my night stand. On the passenger seat of my car. On my desk at my co-working space. Anywhere where people might see it.

Sometimes they’ll spot the bookmark and ask what it is.

Sometimes they’ll ask about the book. I’ll flip through it as I talk about the plot and casually set the bookmark on the table. At this point, they may notice the card and ask me about it.

Sometimes I’ll just be talking to someone, and I’ll absentmindedly be flicking the edge of the bookmark with my thumb. Then, I focus on it as if I’m just taking in what it is myself, I say, “Oh, could I try something with you?”

So even if they don’t notice the card or comment on it, the card is already in the world, and it’s serving a purpose other than being this thing that I carry around in order to do a magic trick with. It’s not something that’s been squirreled away in my wallet. If they don’t happen to notice it, then I can notice it. And my attitude is, “Oh, yeah. I have this with me. It might be fun to try [whatever].” That’s still perfectly normal. It does not feel forced. If I was using a coupon for adult diapers as a bookmark and I happened to notice it and mention, “Oh yeah, I don’t know if I told you, but I’ve been shitting my pants recently.” That would feel like a natural moment. You wouldn’t think, “I bet he uses that as a bookmark because he WANTS to tell me about his fecal incontinence.”

This is especially good for tricks that use a single playing card like Contact. It’s actually less normal to carry around a single playing card in your wallet than it is to carry around a full deck of cards in your pocket. So if someone asks to see a trick and you say, “Ah, I don’t have anything. Well, actually, I have this single card in my wallet,” then that card is already suspect, and your actions clearly pre-planned.

But a playing card as a bookmark? This isn’t uncommon. You can genuinely play this as if you’re caught off guard. “Sorry. I don’t have anything on me… well, actually….”

My appreciation for this little idea might not resonate with you. But I’ve already gotten a lot out of it in just a matter of weeks since I started doing it.

(In my obituary, please make sure it says: “To get a feel for his intellect, in middle school, he struggled to write one page about the American Revolution. As an adult, he wrote the equivalent of a four-page essay on using wallet card magic tricks as bookmarks. He will not be missed.”)

Sleight Exposure Technique

This is an idea from Sam “Stuck In the Middle With You by Stealers” Wheeler.

He wrote me about it after my Beta Test Performance Style post last year. He offered it up as another “ego saving” performance style. It’s another way to take the pressure off when you perform. This is for when you have a sleight-of-hand-based routine that you’re not 100% comfortable with yet.

Here it is, in his words:

I read your post today about The Beta Test Performance Style. 

I like the concept a lot. As someone who struggles with feeling guilty about performing I can see this being very useful, I can put that guilt onto someone else! 

I wanted to share another ego saving performance style I've played with for a couple of years. 

Essentially its for use when you are a little afraid about using a new technique or move. For example, I've always felt a little afraid of the palm, the fear of getting caught holding out a card. So I never used the palm. I came up with this performance style specifically to start using the palm, with the eventual goal of not being afraid of using it any more! 

I have a couple of variations on how I introduce this, but at some point, you say "do you want to see what sleight of hand actually looks like?" 

You build up an expectation that they are going to actually see what the sleight of hand looks like... And then you perform the trick. 

The benefit now is that if they do catch the palm they will believe that you intended to show it to them, so your ego is safe, and now you can have a conversation about sleight of hand and that move in particular. 

If they don't catch the palm, you then have a bit of a punch line of "well that's what sleight of hand looks like". 

Of course since I started using this, I relaxed significantly, and nobody seemed to catch the palm. 

I trust that they are being honest, because they all believe I am going to expose the move, so wouldn't need to protect my ego by lying, and all generally say something like "well where was the sleight of hand?", or "I didn't see the sleight of hand". 

I grew to like this performance style so much that I've been using it permanently as how I perform the homing card: 

I start the performance by honestly explaining that I find some methods in magic scary to do. There's one move in particular that's always terrified me, and explain that I'm trying to face my fear and start using it. (I really like that this is honestly letting them into some truth about me) 

Then I do the "do you want to see what this move actually looks like? You'll get to see real sleight of hand, and know what sleight of hand actually looks like..." gambit. 

Going into the effect, the palm happens at a bit of an unexpected time which I think helps. 

After the first phase I know I am going to repeat even more cleanly... So if they caught the move I'll offer to do it again but how it normally looks without exposing the move. If they didn't catch the palm I'll just offer to do it again. 

I think that’s a really solid idea. It’s rare for me to do a trick with a sleight that I’m not comfortable with. (But that’s only because I don’t push myself too much sleight-wise. Not because I’m some sleight-of-hand master.) So I haven’t had the need to use it myself, but I can definitely see the value in it, not only to release the pressure a bit on yourself, but also to intrigue the spectator somewhat regarding what they will (or won’t) end up seeing.

Thanks, Sam.

Mailbag #114: Approaching Test Subjects

I’m taking this email slightly out of context. I’m intepreting the question more generally than it was asked. The basic idea is how to approach people for help when you’re testing out new tricks or techniques.

If I'm to have a friend or three selected especially for this task provide discrete and prompted feedback on individual magic tricks, what excuse do you think I should use to avoid the real reason?

I'm thinking that I'll just say that I'm part of a secret society that values actual feedback […] and I've been enlisted to test some of the creations of the society out on them.—JN

I don’t have one approach to this, so this is going to be a mishmash of thoughts and ideas.

Identifying good “test subjects”

To me, one of the joys of amateur magic is finding my ideal audience. That is, finding people who not only like watching magic but also enjoy losing themselves in weird experiences. I don’t force this sort of thing on anyone who isn’t into it. There’s no pleasure in that for me. That’s another problem of magician-centric thinking. “I like to do magic. And you’re someone I know. So you’re going to have to watch me do the type of magic I want to do.”

The feeling I get seeing many amateurs perform for people is the same feeling I get seeing a six-year-old pester his mother at the public pool. “Mommy! Mommy! I can dive. Hold on. Look mommy. I’m going to do a BIG DIVEY!” And then he goes and flings his dumb little body into the water, coming up moments later, flailing and sputtering. “Did you see? Mommy? I did it mommy, did you see? Did you see my dive?”

“Yes,” she says, as she stares into the novel she’s reading. The one featuring a woman who doesn’t have a kid constantly begging for her attention. The only person wanting that woman’s attention is the guy she just met. The one with the shredded abs and the new little shop in town where he sells his home-made pastries. “Yes, sweetie. Great job. Let mommy read now.”

I never want that needy vibe when I perform. So I’m always focusing on building my audience by giving people a peek at the type of stuff that fascinates me and then moving forward with the people who are genuinely intrigued by this sort of thing.

When it comes to performing for people who are going to be in my life regularly, I start to categorize them regarding their appreciation for the type of magic I want to do.

• There are fans, and there are superfans. They make up my core audience.

• There are people who are purely anti-magic. They just can’t appreciate it on any level. I’m not going to bother with these people. (Unless I feel like torturing one for some reason.)

• Then there is a final group that likes magic somewhat, and they’ll ask me about it from time to time. But they’re incapable of letting it truly affect them. It may be because they know a bit too much about magic and how it’s done. Or it may be because they’re just too guarded. Whatever the case may be, I’m not going to waste a truly special presentation on them. But they do make good test subjects when you’re looking for people to take a more analytical look at magic.

Two Things Worth Testing

#1 Sleights

I don’t learn too many new sleights these days, but when I do, I usually try to test them out in some form. You might think you could ask another magician if you’re flashing or if the sleight looks good. You can’t. They’re just as blinded as you are. And they want to believe that something looks normal, and fooling.

Instead, you want someone who doesn’t know what they’re looking for.

I like to test new sleights with zero heat, and then with 100% full heat. Knowing that when I perform them for real, the heat will likely be somewhere in the middle.

For example, let’s say I was learning a second deal.

— Zero Heat Test

“Can you help me out? I’m going to deal some cards into different piles. Will you make a note of how many I deal into each pile?”

They would watch me deal out some cards, and then make a note of how many I dealt.

What I’m actually doing is second-dealing on every deal, or on some particular deals.

There’s no heat on this. I’m just asking them to help out with some sort of administrative task. I’m just looking to make sure that they don’t say something like, “Why are you dealing in that weird way?” Assuming that doesn’t happen, I can feel confident knowing the sleight is at least somewhat workable.

— Full Heat Test

“I’m going to deal twenty cards onto the table and count them out as I do. On two of the cards, I’m going to deal in an unusual way. I want you to try and spot when I do and remember what number I called out when I did it.”

Let’s say I deal out 20 cards and I second deal on cards 8 and 11.

I now ask them which cards I did something weird on.

I’ll get one of three responses:

1. Totally Unsure - “I don’t know. It all looked the same to me.” Great. That means I can probably use the sleight freely with no worries.

2. Totally Sure - “You did something funny with cards 8 and 11.” Okay. That doesn’t mean the sleight is worthless. Or that doesn’t mean the sleight is unusable. It just means I’ll want to give it some more practice and not use it in circumstances where there is a lot of heat on the dealing itself.

3. Somewhere in between - “I don’t really know. I thought I spotted something in the middle there. Maybe around 10 or 11?” This is fine. This tells me it’s a usable sleight and as long as I’m not telling them to specifically focus on the cleanliness of whatever action I’m taking, it will most likely fly by them.

I always try to test sleights and moves outside the context of a trick. Most people want to be nice when you’re showing them a trick. But if you say, “Watch me cut this deck of cards 10 times, and tell me if you see anything odd,” then they’ll feel no need to be nice.

You can see why this type of testing is great for someone who is analytical and happy to help. But you wouldn’t want to use someone who’s willing to really “dance” with you in more magical ways. Don’t waste their time.

#2 Suspicion and Transparency

The other thing worth testing is how suspicious or transparent a trick or the deceptions used in a trick are.

If people are suspicious of something, and you can’t allay those suspicions in any way, then it doesn’t matter whether those suspicions are true or not, the impact of your trick will be greatly reduced.

For this type of testing, I need to present the trick to people in some way, but I don’t always perform it for them.

Often I will just describe the trick for people. Other times I will show them a video of someone else performing the trick.

Then I can just play dumb. “Do you have any idea how someone could do that?”

Now I listen for their responses. Are they focusing on the exact method simply by hearing about or watching the trick? That tells you if the method is transparent, or if there’s something they would naturally be suspicious of.

When Leviosa came out, we tested it by putting a demo video in front of 47 non-magicians. 100% of them were suspicious of the deck. I don’t have to now buy the trick and perform it myself to know that this is something that’s not going to work for my performing situations. And you don’t need a 47-person virtual focus group to test this on. You could show the demo to three or four people and try and get their earnest thoughts on how it might be done, and if you have most or all of them being suspicious of the deck, you can be pretty certain that’s what you’ll have if you performed it in real life too.

I have a friend who was interested in a recent iPhone trick where the spectator would type something in your Notes app and whatever they typed would be revealed on your phone in some manner (I don’t remember the details). Before buying it, he decided to test it out by describing this trick “someone showed me” and then asking his friends if they had any idea how it could have been done. The majority of the people he asked said that it was probably some trick with the phone—some kind of app or something. It wasn’t an app (I think it was a shortcut) but really, what’s the difference as far as the spectator is concerned?

And this is all the type of testing that can be done without actually performing.

Approaching Test Subjects

When testing out a trick, you really need to frame it as if you’re doing it on behalf of someone else. Most people aren’t comfortable giving their friend or loved one honest feedback. If they were, you’d never need to test anything. You could just perform and people would say. “I believe the card was in your hand before you put your hand in your pocket.” But most people aren’t going to call you out like that, even if you indicate that you’d like them to.

As I’ve mentioned in the past, the story I tell people if they’re someone I’m going to be testing tricks out on regularly, is that I’m a member of this group of magicians that helps test out new tricks, to give feedback to the creators. This allows me to ask very direct questions after the trick is completed, as if these are just the questions I’ve been tasked with getting answers to.

This is similar to what the email-writer is considering. But I don’t call it a “secret society” or anything like that. (I use talk of “secret societies” in my “real” presentations. But not for these purposes.) I intentionally make the thing seem as dull as possible. This is one of the more boring aspects of my interest in magic. It’s just this thing you can sign up for if you’re part of one of the regular magic organizations and they’ll send you tricks from time to time as long as you give your test them out and give feedback. The testing group is run by these guys.

So clearly it’s not anything exciting.

This is similar to what I wrote in the Beta Test Performing Style.

What Not To Test

I don’t bother testing premises or presentational techniques.

I mean, I do test them in an informal way, in the sense that I perform them, and then I make note of how people respond to them.

But I don’t break these things down with people specifically. I don’t say, “Okay, so I framed this deck cutting itself as if a ghost was doing it. Do you think it would have been better if I said I could astral-project my essence across the room to cut the deck to your card? Please rate those premises on a scale of 1-10.”

Magic presentations have already been focus-grouped to death. That’s why they’re generally so bland and homogenous. They’re designed to go down easily for the widest possible audience.

As an amateur, I want to test things like sleights and techniques to make sure the fundamentals of the deception are sound. But I don’t believe you should leave it up to the audience to decide the stories you want to tell and the experiences you want to deliver. Those things are supposed to be an extension of yourself, and a way to connect with people. You shouldn’t leave the outward expression of yourself up to committee.