Focus

Recently someone called to book me for a really cool event. It sounded like a fun conference for the kind of people who enjoy my show and I was available. But I turned it down.

They didn't have the right stage and the venue didn't work well with my requirements. I always make sure my sound, lighting, staging, and scheduling fits in with what I do. And if I can't make it happen I always try to recommend someone who can. It’s far easier to point the organizer in a better direction than try to alter what I do to fit their event.

I turn down a lot of gigs. If it doesn't fit my act, I really don't want to do it. I don't want to give people a sub-par performance. I want to do the types of events that allow me to give the best performance possible. Plus, eliminating events that stress me out has really improved my mental health.

In the past few years I've been struggling with extreme anxiety and depression. Dealing with difficult clients and unsatisfactory gigs has only made it worse. I care so deeply about giving people a memorable experience that I end up having a panic attack whenever anything goes wrong.

Sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, my heart and mind racing because of something small that happened during a recent show. When there are too many variables out of my control, I know it's going to affect me in negative ways.

So I've been removing those variables. I’ve been screening my gigs more thoroughly and only taking the ones that won't make me anxious.

I hate giving advice, but here's what I've learned: You don’t have to be everything at once for all people everywhere. Find your niche and focus your efforts on doing whatever that might be. Saying “no” to stuff that makes you unhappy will always end up making you happier in the long run.

What's Next?

When I first moved to Chicago in 2011 I didn’t know anyone here. I spent the first year struggling to get my name out there and find gigs. It was a year of trial and error, with way more failures than successes.

For some reason, that autumn I decided to put together a run of shows at a small theatre near my apartment. I would be self-producing and performing four shows over four weeks. I spent hours canvassing the surrounding neighborhoods with posters and flyers, inviting strangers, and trying my best to get the word out.

But on opening night we only had 7 people in the audience. It was a massive disappointment. I was embarrassed and discouraged and began questioning everything that had led me to that point.

The next day, I got an email from WGN TV wanting to feature me on their morning show the following week. As a result, the next three shows were packed and I felt like I had gotten my first small break in Chicago.

It was also the first experience of many that taught me to push through a discouraging situation. From that moment on I’ve always remembered that when things get challenging there’s usually something positive waiting around the corner.

Since that first show I’ve produced a different run of shows every year since. Always a new show, always a new venue, always a learning experience. I’ve done shows in wine bars, gymnasiums, basements, restaurants, small rooms, and bigger theaters. I even put an international tour together, formed out of my favorite pieces from those shows.

This year, against my better judgement, I decided to do my longest run yet. Every Wednesday for the past six months I’ve been performing in Lincoln Park here in the city. It’s always a challenge to build buzz for a show and keep that momentum going, but I can easily say that this has been my most successful run yet.

We sold out for much of the summer, got featured on Windy City Live, WGN, multiple times on WGN Radio, and reviewed by nearly every major publication in Chicago. The show received rave reviews and even won a Chicago Theatre Award, perhaps one of my proudest accomplishments to date.

Every run of shows has been building up to this point. Every small audience, every misstep, every frustrating producer or theatre staff I’ve worked with. Venues have closed or changed management mid-run. There’s no guidebook to this, especially when you’re producing the show yourself. As a result, I’ve made more mistakes along the way than you could possibly imagine.

I’ve never been the kind of person to let failures stop me. If anything, they just make me work harder and keep moving forward. Each show has taught me something new and I can see a noticeable improvement in my ability as a live performer.

Next Wednesday will be the final performance of this run of shows. I couldn’t think of a better end to the run than having closing night on Halloween. If you haven’t seen the show yet, there are still a few tickets available here.

After next week I’ll never do this show again, so don’t miss your chance to experience it for yourself. In the meantime, I’ve already started writing the next show and I can’t wait for you to see what’s next.

This Is What I Do

Recently a lady was dead set on trying to embarrass me during one of my events.

“You seem uncomfortable,” she said, surrounded by a group of friends. “Are we making you uncomfortable?”

I wasn’t uncomfortable. I’d just finished my show and was standing calmly at the side of the bar waiting for the party to end. I wasn’t nervous or bored, I was just being patient until it was time to depart.

There’s always one person at a gig who is too cool for my entertainment. They’re defensive or confrontational. Typically they’re used to being the center of attention and don’t like that a new person might have the spotlight for a few moments.

There’s another person at my gigs. They’re the one that gets it - the type of person who just wants to enjoy the mystery and not ruin the entertainment for others. “Wow, you really know how to work a room,” they say, curious to learn more about my craft and how I ended up being at the party with them.

Those people are a joy to perform for. They’re engaged and intrigued and easy to talk to. They make my nights fun and memorable.

People like that woman, however, are quite the opposite.

I used to become defensive or upset when people would accost me. One person’s actions would lead to a minor confrontation and end up ruining my whole night.

It took me a while to realize that it didn’t have anything to do with me when people behaved that way. It’s not my fault they are being rude or negative. More than likely, it has something to do with their own insecurities. After years of talking with people at events, I get that now and choose to respond differently.

“You seem uncomfortable,” she said smugly, “Are we making you uncomfortable?”

In a flash, my mind went to the very beginning. I flipped through my mental rolodex, remembering how I’d ended up in front of that lady.

I remembered my early shows at schools and nursing homes and libraries and churches.

I thought of the plays and musicals and speeches and improv games.

I recalled the writing and acting classes, the rehearsing and practicing.

My years in theatre school flashed through my mind, along with every role I’d ever performed.

I remembered the two dozen TV appearances I’ve had, many live on air in front of millions of people.

I thought of my sold-out tours, my weekly shows, my corporate and college gigs, and everything else in between. There was the time I worked for 16 people on a rooftop under The Empire State Building and the time I got a standing ovation from 6,000 students on a college campus.

I remembered being in front of audiences around the world, sometimes using props as a shield and sometimes having nothing to hide behind at all.

I thought of writing and delivering my dad’s eulogy. Or speaking at my best friend’s funeral after he killed himself.

I thought of the gig I’d had the night before and what I was doing the night after.

I’d been here before - many, many times.

“No, I’m not uncomfortable.” I said. “This is what I do.”

Halfway

Malcolm Gladwell suggests that it takes roughly ten thousand hours of practice to reach the level of mastery associated with being a world-class expert. Some people take exception to this rule, but for my purposes this week let’s just analyze the magic number: 10,000.

Gladwell is talking about “dedicated practice” - focused training on a skill that helps a person continue to improve over time. You need to push yourself out of your comfort zone, seek feedback, and dedicated yourself to continued practice on a regular basis for an extended period of time.

I think about the 10,000 hour rule a lot. It gets thrown around in pop culture, on TED talks, in magazines, and referenced in numerous self-help, motivational books.

So, I was curious…how many hours do I have?

Being a mind reader is a tricky thing - it’s difficult to practice without an audience. Most of my practice time is onstage - learning the ebbs and flows of a live performance, understanding the connection with an audience, and working on my material.

Given that each performance meets the “dedicated practice” metric, I calculated how much time I’ve spent performing for other people.

I started doing magic when I was 3 years old. That was 29 years ago. Growing up, I did magic every year at family celebrations (Christmas and Thanksgiving) for probably 10 minutes. That’s fifteen years of holiday performances.

When I got in school I would do magic each week at Show & Tell during Kindergarten, 1st, and 2nd grades. That’s 5 minutes a week for 30 weeks over 3 more years.

I also did a talent show many years (5 minutes a year for six years), shows at nursing homes and local libraries each summer (10 shows for 60 minutes for 10 summers).

So far that’s as follows:

• 15 years x 10 minutes = 150 mins over the Holidays

• 30 weeks x 5 minutes = 150 minutes x 3 years = 450 mins of Show & Tell

• 6 years x 5 minutes = 30 mins at Talent Shows

• 10 shows x 60 minutes = 600 mins x 10 summers = 6,000 minutes of Summer Shows

Altogether that comes to a total of 6,630 minutes or 110.5 hours.

THAT’S IT?

So what about college? I did dozens of shows during my time at both USC and WSU. I ran the numbers and it comes out to another 5,000 minutes of stage time while I was getting my degree. That puts us at 11,630 minutes or nearly 194 hours of stage time.

At this rate, this is going to take forever…

Since school I’ve been doing close to 100 shows a year. Some years more, some years less but let’s use a nice round number. Also, the shows vary in length, from 30 minutes to 90 minutes, so I’ll stick with 60 minutes just to keep things simple.

• 100 shows

• 10 years

• An average of 60 minutes each

That’s an extra 60,000 minutes of stage time or 1,000 hours.

A whopping total of 1,304.5 hours.

So that does it for my stage time. It feels like I’ve done so much more but the reality is there are only so many hours in a day and so many shows I can do each year. Even if I did 500 shows a year it would still take me 20 years to get 10,000 hours in front of an audience.

The good news is…it’s not all about stage time. Doing shows is clearly a big part of what I do but not the whole part…there’s more that goes into it.

I spent several hours a day writing, rehearsing, studying, and creating my shows. Plus, I attend other performances, lectures, and workshops to improve my skills. Additionally, I’ve taken theatre, improv, storytelling, and writing classes to implement new ideas and knowledge into my shows. And there’s all the other plays, musicals, storytelling shows, and cabaret showcases I’ve been a part of.

I won’t bore you with the rest of the numbers here but believe me, I’m way closer to the 10,000 hour rule than I originally thought. However, the more I tallied up my practice time the more it struck me that 10,000 hours is not a hard and fast rule. It’s a guideline.

The idea isn’t that you reach that threshold and suddenly have all the answers. It’s that you put in the hours each and every day. If you want to get better at something it all comes down to a continuous pursuit of personal improvement.

I’m far from an expert at what I do. Some shows I feel like I’m firing on all cylinders and other times I’m left stumped, wondering why I didn’t connect and how it could have been better. There’s always room to improve and new things to understand.

However, the more shows I do the fewer bad shows I have. And I think that is the best part of this whole process. I can actually look back and note a visible, positive change in my work. That excites me and motivates me to keep going and striving for each new level of mastery. I can’t wait to see what the next 5,000 hours have in store.

I'm Ready

In college I used to drive to the outskirts of the city just so I could stare up at the stars. I’d put the top down and sprawl out in the back seat, just to enjoy the peaceful sounds of autumn in Kansas.

Sometimes I’d write in a journal or read a book. It was my way of passing the time and getting away from the demands of school.

One night I was sitting in the back seat dreaming about life after college. I was shuffling cards and thinking about doing a big show one day. I must have been there for hours.

Later, I got back to the dorms, parked the car, and headed inside. As I passed the car I noticed I had dropped a card on the back seat. My hands were full so I thought to myself, “No problem, I’ll grab it tomorrow.”

I walked upstairs and forgot about it.

A week later, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to find two basketball players standing in the hallway.

“Show us a trick,” they demanded.

They were huge - easily 6’ 6” or more - and towered over me in the doorway.

“Um, okay,” I said, grabbing a deck of cards from my nightstand.

“Pick a card,” I said.

“No. I just want to think of it,” the taller player demanded.

“Okay, whatever you want.”

I knew there was no getting around it, I had to show them something amazing.

Word had spread around the dorms that the guy on the second floor would blow your mind. Guests showed up unannounced at all hours of the day and I would happily oblige them with quick impromptu performances.

When you’re a mind reader or magician, you have to be ready at a moment’s notice. No one would ask Yo-Yo Ma to prove his skills in an elevator. But, for some reason, if I don’t show you a trick before we get to the first floor then I’m not a real magician.

“I want the 3 of Spades,” he said.

As soon as he said it, I froze in place. “Holy shit,” I thought to myself. I remembered a week ago, walking inside and seeing a card - the FREAKING THREE OF SPADES - staring me in the face from the back seat of my car.

I remained calm and handed him the deck.

“Would you be impressed if I could make your card disappear…” I asked slowly, “and reappear in my car?”

They looked at me like I was crazy.

“The 3 of Spades, right?”

They nodded.

I motioned for them to open the box and let them look through the deck themselves. The 3 of Spades was missing.

“It’s in my car,” I said.

“No way in hell,” they said in disbelief.

We went downstairs and walked out to the parking lot. I let them get a few steps ahead of me so they would see it first.

And they did.

They went crazy. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was all anyone talked about for weeks.

That moment may sound lucky but I don’t think it was. I think I had been planning for it my whole life up to that point. I was ready and took advantage of a great opportunity to give some people a truly wonderful moment.

Zig Ziglar once said that “Success occurs when opportunity meets preparation.”

With the tour, my residency in Chicago, and some big shows, this has been a fairly successful year for me - but I can trace that success back to years of working and learning. It’s funny how every insignificant thing I was working on years ago is starting to come together now in ways that I couldn’t even have fathomed back then.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve been paying my dues for years and wonder if I’ll ever get where I want to be. But then, out of nowhere, an opportunity presents itself and I feel more prepared than I’ve ever been.

Be Kind

I found out that a member of my building’s custodial staff passed away sometime this week.

I only interacted with him a handful of times but he was always kind in those brief encounters. He was a decent, caring man who was always working hard to ensure the building was clean and up to standards.

I couldn’t help but think that he passed away while he was still employed here, probably to support his family and make ends meet. He didn’t get to retire and enjoy the later years of his life with his loved ones. He spent his final months serving others to make their lives easier. To make my life easier.

My building isn’t that fancy. It’s nice and secure, but I don’t live in one of the most luxurious towers in Chicago. Still, there are benefits to living here. We pay for security, parking, and more. The staff helps ensure our safety and quality of life. It always gives me peace of mind to know that my wife will be safe and secure while I’m on the road for weeks at a time.

It may not be the fanciest building, but it is a nice place to live and I’m thankful for it every day. I’m grateful for the staff and the neighborhood and the proximity to local destinations.

I found it hard to write something meaningful this week, for many reasons. Mostly, I think the highly politicized news cycle made it difficult for me to find purpose in my ideas. The weight of the world can sometimes make my daily struggles seem very trivial.

I read this story last week that really broke my heart. It made me want to be nicer to everyone around me - the remaining staff in my building, strangers on the bus, my friends, my wife. It was a stark reminder that my life is pretty great and I’m very, very fortunate.

All I want this week is to be grateful for my place in the world and the fact that I get to travel for a job and entertain people everywhere I go. I get plenty of days off, have a beautiful and talented wife, and a lovely apartment where I spend the majority of my time. I don’t take it for granted.

Be grateful for the people around your that make your life easier. Go out of your way to thank them. And remember the oft-quoted phrase “Be kind, for everyone you know is fighting a hard battle.”

Have a good week. Do your best. I’ll see you next Thursday.

Do The Work

The answer you’re looking for is in the work.

Want to be a better performer? Do a hundred shows. Then do a hundred more.

Want to be a better writer? Read and write every single day.

Want to excel at your craft? Work at it, every chance you can.

The answer you’re looking for is in the work.

But you knew that already, right? You know what it takes to get better because you’ve heard it before. The secret to getting better has been there all along, staring you in the face.

You can only ignore it for so long, until you admit that it’s up to you to bite the bullet and do the work.

There’s no secret shortcut or magic pill for getting from Point A to Point B. There’s no life hack or pro-tip that will take you from amateur to expert. There’s no substitute for hard work.

But I don’t have to tell you that. Deep down you already have all the answers you need. Deep down you know what needs to be done. Deep down you’re ready to do whatever it takes to get to the next level.

You don’t need fancy new gear or the latest and greatest tech. You don’t need everything to be perfect. You don’t need someone else’s permission. You have everything you need.

It’s time to stop waiting for the perfect moment. It’s time to stop holding yourself back from what you know needs to be done. It’s time to do what you’ve been waiting for.

It’s time to do the work.

Meant To Be

“Does it ever go wrong?”

People ask me that all the time. They want to know if I’m ever wrong onstage or if something ever backfires. Of all the questions I receive on a daily basis this is one of my favorites.

The answer, of course, is yes.

The more shows I do the more likely I am to have a mishap. Sometimes they’re huge dilemmas that derail my performance: I’ve had props break mid-show, batteries die in my mic pack, left my pants unzipped for the entire show, and more. When something obvious goes awry you have to comment on it, fix it to the best of your ability, and try to move on.

But most of the time they’re tiny mistakes that I deal with in the moment. For me, the little things that go wrong on a nightly basis are a fascinating part of my work. Things happen all the time that are completely unexpected. While I’m doing the show I’m simultaneously thinking ahead and problem-solving. Typically, I invent a new path forward during the show and, if all goes well, the audience is none the wiser.

Once I did a show at a mansion in Beverly Hills. I arrived early to set up, with plenty of time to schmooze with the guests. When the show began, I realized I’d forgotten a very important prop in my car which was parked two blocks away. I’d had so much time on my hands early in the night that I got too comfortable and forgot to do a thorough once-over of my gear. On the spot, I created a brand new ten minute piece that didn’t rely on the forgotten prop. Needless to say, that was an interesting night.

The great thing about my work is that the audience doesn’t know what to expect. What lies ahead is a mystery. If something goes wrong and I’m forced to change direction the audiences thinks that’s where we were meant to be all along. What’s funny is that sometimes the new path I take during a show ends up being even more exciting than the path I originally intended.

The same holds true for my career…

Ten years ago, if you had asked me what I would be doing now, I probably would have pictured a completely different path forward.

I didn’t even know about fringe festivals back then, corporate gigs seemed untouchable, and I was just barely starting to zero in on my work as a mentalist. Honestly, I never even considered moving to Chicago.

Over time, I was open to new options and new directions for my craft. I embraced new opportunities and pursued any work that presented itself. We moved to Chicago on a whim and it ended up being a perfect fit for what I do.

It’s easy to feel like a failure when you end up somewhere you never planned to be. It’s easy to feel like you let yourself down and gave up somewhere along the way. But don’t let yourself fall into that trap.

Maybe you’re choosing the path less travelled or making a sudden switch in careers. Maybe you moved to the big city but decided it wasn’t for you. Or maybe you set out to achieve a goal, got burned out, and now you’re searching for something new. None of that makes you a failure.

Remember: no one knows where you’re going except for you. So wherever you end up is the place you’re meant to be.

Connection

Something I struggle with a lot is where my chosen profession fits in the world. At best it seems entertaining and at worst it feels silly and trite. But there’s one thing I keep coming back to that keeps me from quitting. 

Connection.

The key to my success as an entertainer has been finding a way to connect with my audiences. I’m not talking about laughter or applause. That’s definitely important and I want those things, too, but I’m talking about something more specific.

When I connect with an audience member it means that they saw themselves in my work. It means they found some kind of underlying message or truth that resonated with them more than any mind reading demonstration ever could.

It’s taken me years to realize this, but once I did I’ve felt more fulfilled and more successful in my career than I ever did before.

Think about it. I bet that your favorite movie or book or song probably connects with you in an utterly profound and personal way. It may have a beautiful melody or a hilarious plot, but the truth is you probably found yourself saying “That is so true!” or “I thought I was the only person who felt that way!”

That’s what connection is all about.

The best inspiration for what I do never comes from within the confines of my art. Rather, I look outside my discipline to find people (much smarter than myself) with ideas that apply to my chosen art form, too. The great thing about seeking inspiration is that the answers you seek are already there - you just have to keep looking.

And I’ve been looking in some really unique places.

Legendary choreographer and dancer Martha Graham has a great interview where she talks about connection. It’s worth a watch just to hear her perfectly sum up why art matters and is so important.

“There is always one person to whom you speak in the audience. One.” she says.

In an interview with Seth Meyers, tennis icon Billie Jean King compares being on the tennis court to being onstage in a theatre. I’d never thought about it that way before.

“It’s about the audience,” she comments. “My job is to connect with them, so they go home at night and say ’That was unbelievable!' They connected and they want to go back.”

When I feel especially low or wonder if what I do really matters, it always helps to think of those quotes and remind myself that it can be very important, as long as I connect with others.

Anything I do onstage has one main set of criteria: it has to be about other people. It’s all about the audience. When your work is in service to other people you can’t go wrong.

When I set out to write this blog I wasn’t sure what shape it would take. Originally, I had two goals - to be positive and to post every week - but, over time, a third goal emerged. 

Somehow I found a way to make the experiences of being a mind reader about more than just performing. Now my main goal is to take what I do and find a way to connect it with you.

I can’t even begin to tell you how many people have written me to say “Wow, I read your blog post today and it really spoke to me! I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately and really appreciated your thoughts.”

That’s the connection I seek and, I feel, the secret to being successful in anything you do.