Do Over

Here’s a secret:

Everyone has bad shows. (Or days or games or whatever is applicable to your life. My life is onstage so I’ll stick with what I know.)

When you see other performers posting a constant barrage of fancy hotel rooms, large venues, enormous audiences, and rave reviews it’s easy to think that they are nothing but successful. It’s easy to forget that they have bad shows, too.

Oh, but they do. And so do I. Horrible, awful, cringe-worthy shows.

How do I know? Because I’ve been there. I’ve sat in their audience or watched them live on the internet. And, as for myself, I’ve bombed horribly. It’s just the way of life when you work in the entertainment industry.

If you’ve ever slept through an alarm on the first day of a new job or seen the look of disappointment on your boss’ face, then you’ve experienced the same thing. I’ve spent hours traveling across the country to do a show, only to fail miserably in front of a room of strangers.

I can usually sense it from the first moments onstage. I start sweating and the lights seem to grow hotter. Every uninterested face in the room starts to stick out like a Tr*mp voter at a Lady Gaga concert.

“Is my client massively disappointed? What do they think? They’ll never invite me back…”

Sometimes it’s not as bad as I think. And sometimes it’s surely worse.

Albeit, I haven’t had a show that bad in years. But I still have bad shows all the same. It’s just that now when I have a bad show it’s discouraging because I know how good I can be and I’m disappointed in my performance. It’s a different kind of bad.

Years ago I booked my first out-of-state show. The fee seems laughable now but at the time it was a huge milestone. My wife-to-be and I loaded up the car and drove nervously across the border from Kansas to Nebraska.

The event was for a small tractor dealership in the middle of nowhere with a group of about 50 employees just getting off work. The show was held in the company cafeteria - a long room with bad lighting and poor sight lines. 

The employees entered, rudely elbowing their way to the buffet, and took their seats. The client motioned for me to begin.

Unsure of myself and too inexperienced to control the room, I gave one of the worst performances of my life. There were too many distractions to contend with. People were talking in the back, loud music was playing down the hall, and a group of noisy men were (I KID YOU NOT) building a giant pyramid of beer cans at the very front table.

I wish I had taken control and demanded their attention. I wish I had known that was an option. But when you’re 20 and you’ve never done that kind of event, you don’t know what to do.

So I tried to persevere. I pushed through and did my act. It was painful to watch, I’m sure. My last-ditch effort to be mystifying during my final routine was destroyed by the loud clatter of no less than 100 beer cans falling to the floor. The men roared with laughter as I sheepishly finished the show and scurried from the room.

I left as quickly as I could, utterly humiliated.

A few weeks ago I entered a similar venue with a similar demographic. Suddenly I flashed back to that time in Nebraska and felt the wave of embarrassment rush back over me. Then I took a deep breath and let the hundreds of shows and years of experience I’ve had since then take over. And I crushed that show.

I felt like I finally had a chance to redeem myself. A much needed do-over, if you will.

I needed that.

So yeah, I have bad shows. All the time. And so do all of the other performers you follow. They may be too busy crafting their successful online persona to remind you of that, but don’t forget that we all have to start somewhere. We all had to go through awkward, embarrassing, painful situations to get where we are.

I needed every one of those bad shows to get the rave reviews I received from Chicago Fringe last week or go on tour this summer. Good shows feel great but bad shows make you who you are. Bad shows are your education.

Embrace the bad and get better. Soon you’ll get a chance to redeem yourself, too.

Cash or Credit

If you enjoy, use, or otherwise benefit from an artist’s work then they deserve to be compensated for it. The way I see it is you can either give them cash or you can give them credit.

Let’s start with the cash. 

When you fork over your hard earned dollars in exchange for a work of art, you’re helping an artist realize their dreams. Your money gives value to someone’s hard work and helps them continue to creatively contribute to their community.

Cash can take many forms. You can purchase someone’s work or a ticket to their show. You can support their work online through Patreon or GoFundMe, or more. You can donate to their cause or tip them for a job well done.

Cash is king.

But maybe you can’t afford to buy a piece of art or contribute to a Kickstarter. Hamilton tickets are expensive and so is your rent. I totally get it.

That’s where credit comes in. And when I say credit I mean C-R-E-D-I-T, as in credit-where-credit-is-due.

When you read someone’s work or watch their video, that creator has probably entertained or inspired you in some small way. Maybe it was for a matter of minutes or a matter of days. It doesn’t matter. They deserve your appreciation.

The simple act of giving someone credit goes a long way in helping an artist pursue their passion.  And in 2017, crediting couldn’t be easier.

Take the time to smash the “like” button or comment. Share the post and start a dialogue about it with your friends. Passively reading or watching someone’s art without reciprocating does nothing for their cause.

Crediting means you aren’t allowed to repost someone’s photo without letting people know where it came from. You can’t copy and paste a funny tweet and pretend it’s your own. You must always attribute the creation to the creator.

ALWAYS.

I do my best to credit anyone I work with. Event photographers, other performers, journalists, event planners, companies, vendors, producers, you name it. They deserve respect and appreciation for their work and I would expect the same from them. Crediting means we all get to enjoy success, instead of a select few who took advantage of their fellow artists to get ahead.

So the next time you enjoy someone’s art, writing, video, pictures, blog, novel, tweet, web series, vlog, or more, be sure to pony up some cash. Or, at least “like”, comment, share, and give them some credit for creating something for your enjoyment. It’s literally the least you can do.

Rave Reviews At Chicago Fringe

I’m in the middle of a run of seven shows at the Chicago Fringe Festival and have already received some rave reviews. So far, I’ve had packed houses and attentive fringe-goers. 

You can catch my remaining two performances next weekend. The shows are Saturday, September 9th at 8:30 pm and Sunday, September 10th at 4 pm.

I’m still waiting on some reviews to come out but for now here are a few of the quotes I’ve received so far:

“Mark Toland’s skills as a mentalist bring together fascination, awe and immersion in mystery — with humor and rapid-fire quips and stories. It’s an irresistible wild ride, especially for skeptics.”
— Picture This Post
“At the very end of the show, one audience member has her “mind read” in a very detailed manner. Her response was “Holy Shit!”. And that sums it up perfectly.”
— Playlist HQ
“How does he do it? That’s the mystery. You will have to see the show for yourself to decide.”
— DADaPalooza
“Toland blends psychic feats with accomplished storytelling.”
— TimeOut Chicago

Here are some great shots of the fringe shows courtesy of Sarah Elizabeth Larson Photography.

My show was also listed as a "Best Bet" for the festival by TimeOut Chicago and one of the "Best Plays In Chicago" right now by Picture This Post. Two more chances to see the show! Tickets still available here:

Buy Tickets

Almost Ready

A year ago I submitted my show to the Chicago Fringe Festival. It was my first festival and a nerve-wracking experience.

In the span of four days I went from ZERO pre-sold tickets to SELLING OUT.  I only did three shows but I got bit by the fringe bug. And I began planning The Mystery Tour.

Around the same time I had a bunch of personal stuff happen all at once. I lost a friend to suicide and my apartment flooded. It was a rough several weeks. Being onstage gave me a respite from the realities of life and I channeled any stress I was feeling into my creative projects.

Flash forward to this week and I’ve come full circle. It took a full year - A FULL YEAR - but the new floors were finally finished this week.  I’ve been living out of boxes and bags for months, sleeping on a pull out sofa, and unable to get in a routine.

But somehow, over the last two months, I wrote the fragments of a new show.

I storyboarded ideas onto post-it notes on the back of a door. Then, when the door came off the hinges I moved the notes to the floor.

I wrote several new monologues for the show - really personal, cerebral stuff that I’m still not quite convinced anyone will care about but me. Somehow I discovered a thru-line and tied all the stories together.

But last week as I was tearing boxes apart in search of a prop, I literally freaked-the-fuck-out because I couldn’t find what I needed. I eventually found it but not before I had a full-on mental breakdown. The stress of the home renovation, the exhaustion of traveling, and the rigors of working in this environment had finally gotten to me.

It was time to come to terms with my situation. I had to be honest with myself and admit that the show is finished - but it’s not ready.

It’s 50%, maybe 60% ready, but it’s not up to my standards. When it comes to my show, I’m a perfectionist. And it’s hard to get the show where I want when I’ve been living in a construction zone for the past six weeks.

With another two weeks of rehearsal in a less chaotic environment I would probably be ready to debut the new show in full. But, this is the reality of living where you work and working where you live. When you live a creative life you learn to be satisfied with how far you've come even if you aren't quite satisfied with where you are.

A year ago my fringe show was a few lines in my notebook. But now, a year and 100+ performances later, I’ve written not one - but TWO - completely different shows. And I’m putting the greatest hits from both shows onstage seven times over the next ten days at the 2017 Chicago Fringe Festival.

After that, I’m going to perfect the rest of my new material on my new floors at home. And once it’s ready, I’m going on tour all over again. You’d better get ready, too.

Privilege

I’ll be honest. I wasn’t fully aware of the extent of my white privilege until earlier this year.

I was performing for an event in the middle of nowhere as the featured entertainment for an annual celebration. Many of my gigs take me to obscure locations around the country. Gigs in middle America are vastly different than gigs in major coastal cities. Fancy hors d'oeuvres and expensive wines are replaced by buffet lines and All-American beers. The meal is prefaced with a prayer and everyone is incredibly polite.

That’s one of the biggest perks of my job: I get to travel the world meeting people from all walks of life. I’m thrust into new situations and get to pretend like I belong for a few hours. It’s a constant adventure.

But, many months ago, I had a realization. I was chatting with my client about living in the city. They responded with “I don’t think I could go to Chicago. There are too many eth-en-ticities [sic] there…”

I bit my tongue and changed the subject. I wasn’t going to end racism by fighting with sixty people in a small town. (Plus, I still needed to get paid for that show.) But it did make me think of something that I hadn’t before: 

I realized that they thought I was one of them.

See, I’m from a small town in Kansas so I have a folksy, down-to-earth charm that allows me to fit in everywhere I go. I may be a big city liberal elite but I’m a chameleon at the many events I work. I’m able to relate to different people in different places and get along with all of them thanks to my midwestern upbringing and, more specifically, the color of my skin.

It was the first time I realized that other performers in my field were probably missing out on these gigs because they were a different race than I am. It occurred to me that there was a whole portion of the population that were too afraid of hiring someone different than them and, as a result, they were missing out on experiencing some of the best entertainment in the world.

In that moment I was angry and sad and everything in between. I finally understood how incredibly fortunate I am to be a white man in America. Not only do I get to make a living as an entertainer, but I get to do so wherever I want without fear of discrimination or injustice.

If you can’t see that you’re even more privileged than I am.

Execution

Here we are, one year and fifty-two essays later. Some better than others, but all labors of love.

Since last August, I’ve spent every Friday through Wednesday working on new ideas for this blog. Through ups and downs, early mornings and late nights I’ve kept at it.

Each day I grab a coffee and sit down to brainstorm new ideas. I use an app called Bear on my MacBook. It’s incredibly useful for organizing my thoughts so I can see if they’ll make the cut for any given Thursday.

Since starting “Thursday Thoughts” I’ve also been busier than ever. In the past twelve months I performed over 100 shows in 35 states and 3 countries, made three TV appearances, sold out shows from NYC to San Diego, and went on a two month tour around North America.

I do all of this on my own. No agent, no manager - just my wife and me working tirelessly to make it a reality.

Good things start to happen if you stick with something for at least a year. You get better. You learn more about yourself. And people start to take notice.

I’ve booked some shows from the blog. Some essays led to in-person debates. One essay even led to an unexpected phone conversation.

As a result of “Thursday Thoughts” I’ve made some new friends. Those friends led to new experiences. And one of those led to a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. 

All of this and more because I keep publishing every single week.

I always wanted to be a better writer - I was just waiting to have a platform. But I got tired of waiting…so I created my own. Now I write all the time and I’m slowly getting better each and every day.

The funny thing is, I’m not running out of ideas. The more I write, the more inspired I feel. So I keep writing daily with one goal in mind: to keep posting every Thursday. 

Ideas are easy, it’s the execution that’s hard.  But if you stick with it, it’s always worth it. That’s what these 365 words on day 365 prove.

One year down, many more to go.

If you like my work, please consider supporting me on Patreon. For as little as $1 a month, you can help me bring my show to a city near you.

Go With The Flow

I’ve been spending much of the summer working on a new show. Most of that time is spent creating new ideas and writing scripts. It’s a long, arduous process.

Sometimes I’ll spend an entire day (or week!) working on a new idea, only to flip through a book and discover that someone else already beat me to it. 

Or, I’ll suddenly recall seeing it performed by someone else years ago. It got filed away and forgotten before I convinced myself it was my own idea. Eventually, though, I remember seeing it and abandon it altogether.

It can be very frustrating.

Another good idea? No, unfortunately it’s right here on page 67.

How about this? Nope! Saw it during college back in 2008.

I was having this discussion with my wife recently. I had another idea for the show, only to realize that several people had already done it. As a result, I was hitting my head against a metaphorical brick wall and not making any progress.

“Did those other people invent it?” she asked.

“No, not really.” I said.

“Did they all perform it the same way?”

“No, they performed it in their own styles.”

“Okay, so why don’t you just perform it how Mark Toland would?”

She was absolutely right.

In my quest to be original, I was actually limiting myself too much. I was trying so hard to be different that I wasn’t giving myself a chance to get started.

A lot of people I know talk about flow - the mental state of being completely present and fully immersed in a task - and how much it contributes to their creativity. Basically, you become so involved in what you’re doing that distractions fade away and the creative process becomes second nature.

That’s the goal. That’s what all artists dream of. But how can you get there if you never give yourself a chance to get started?

If you like my work, please consider supporting me on Patreon. For as little as $1 a month, you can help me bring my show to a city near you.

Details

I saw a one-person show earlier this summer that had a moment I can’t stop thinking about.

The performer had a bag of props on stage complete with money, comb, water bottle, and so on. They kept using the props for various reasons throughout the scene. So far, so good.

But then, they went to check the time. They glanced at their wrist and THEY WEREN’T WEARING A FREAKING WATCH.

WHAT?!

Why have an entire bag of real props but not a real watch?

For the rest of the show I couldn’t stop thinking about that tiny moment. It just made no sense.

If you’re going to do something then go all the way. Have all the props, learn all the skills, finish the project.

This is a big pet peeve of mine.

It drives me crazy to see an artist who specializes in design but has a poorly designed website. Or a performer who has never actually studied theater.

A fellow performer told me recently that he didn’t believe in writing a script. He insisted that his performance would be “fresher without one” and that “saying the same words every time” wasn’t his style.

Face, meet palm.

When people make comments like that what I actually hear is “Writing a script is too much work.”

I don’t understand how you can expect people to buy tickets to see you if you haven’t put in the work to actually write a show. And I have no idea how you can expect people to buy into your performance if some of your props are imaginary and some of your props are real.

If you aren’t willing to put in the work then what’s the point? There’s more to what you do than the thing you’re doing. You have to learn all the minor skills that go into your craft. You have to pay attention to all aspects of what you do.

People will notice the little details…even if you don’t.

Mark Toland’s world-class entertainment is the go-to choice for special events worldwide. His award-winning mind reading talents have been featured on ABC, CBS, FOX, NBC, WGN, TEDx, NPR, WBEZ, SiriusXM, and PBS. Mark is based out of Chicago and travels worldwide for events. Read more about Mark or check out the booking page for more info.

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