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.

Move On

Fact: The more you put yourself out there, the more criticism you will receive.

Some of that criticism will be useful. It will be helpful and needed. It will make you think and make you work harder. It will make you better.

But the other criticism? That will be nothing but negativity. It will be from people who don’t get what you’re doing and make no attempts to try. Call them haters, naysayers, your parents, whatever. They will knock you down because they can and nothing you do will ever please them.

Not all criticism is useful. I’ve had bad reviews, poor feedback, and negative comments that bothered me for days.  I didn’t learn anything from them. They didn’t help me improve my craft. They didn’t inspire me to better myself. If anything, they just made me feel horrible.

Once I was even greeted by a reviewer before the show who was very clearly not excited to be attending.

“I hate magic shows,” they told me.

I was on edge for the entire performance, worried they were going to give me a horrible review. Luckily they were kind with the write-up, but it doesn’t always work out that way.

One reviewer wrote that “Mark Toland is at the top of his game” and my show is a “MUST SEE” only to give me 4 out of 5 stars. It was good to know that when I’m at my best, it’s still only an 80%.

Honestly, I don’t care about the reviews. It’s nice to have a pull-quote or an award or a five star rating to add to the poster, but that’s not why I’m onstage.

I’m doing a show for other people. It’s entertainment. I want people to be completely enthralled for my entire performance. I don’t want them looking at their watch or texting their friends. I don’t want them coughing or shifting in their seats. I want their undivided attention so I can transport them somewhere else for an hour.

That’s not to say that a below-average review doesn’t affect me. It absolutely does! But I’ve learned how to deal with criticism so I can move forward and keep progressing in my career.

Negative feedback is expected and uncontrollable. The more you put yourself out there, the more you forge your own path; the more criticism you should expect to receive.

If you’re doing it right then you’re going to stir the pot. You’re going to provoke a wide range of reactions. The best thing you can do is to not respond.

No matter what happens, don’t acknowledge your criticism. Don’t complain, don’t argue, don’t fight fire with fire. There’s no need to go on a tweetstorm or write a long rant on your fan page. That looks petty and unprofessional.

I’ve faced more rejections than I can remember, been turned down on more projects than I can name. For every gig I’m booked for, another 20 events go in a different direction. But I refuse to let those failures keep me from succeeding.

Ignore the criticism. Shake it off or find someone you can vent to in private. Then move on and get back to work.

Keep Trying

I spent six months writing and pitching a TV show last year. I met with agents who connected me with a production company, then we sat down with networks to discuss the show.

Last month I found out the show didn’t get picked up.

If you knew me in kindergarten and asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would have said “I want to be a famous magician on television.”

That’s always been one of my biggest goals.

I never wanted to do a reality show like AGT. I wanted to do my own thing - a show of my own design. So I poured all of my time and money into creating the best show I could and working to bring it to fruition.

Just because the show didn’t get picked up doesn’t mean I’ve lost my chance. If anything, this is better. This is the closest I’ve ever been to one of my biggest dreams. So now I can taste it. Now I know I have what it takes to get where I want to be. I just need to find the point where my hard work meets luck and creates a big opportunity.

It can be easy to get discouraged by a “No”. When someone turns you down you can either let it affect you or let it motivate you. I choose the latter.

A negative review, a bad show, a roadblock - you name it. Those only end up inspiring me to create something better and prove someone wrong.

I’m working on a new show now. Writing, shooting, pitching, and more.

I can’t wait to show it to you.

The Final Festival

I just arrived in Alberta for the Edmonton International Fringe Festival!

Edmonton is the oldest and largest fringe theatre festival in North America and I’m thrilled to be one of the 230 amazing shows being performed here this year.

Two years ago I started working on the skeleton of this show. It started as a small idea in the margin of a notebook, then turned into a single monologue, and later morphed into a full-blown show. If it wasn’t for my lovely wife Stephanie and brilliant collaborator, Frank Fogg, this show wouldn’t be what it is today.

My venue in Edmonton, the Old Strathcona Performing Arts Centre.

The summer tour has been full of ups and downs this year. For the first 12 performances I changed the show every night. I was tweaking the script and removing other pieces entirely. It just didn’t feel right - but that’s why you do fringe.

In the midst of it all, I’ve still been traveling back and forth from the tour to Chicago for my weekly performances of MIND READER. (I won’t be doing that during Edmonton, though.) Sometimes I’ve been so exhausted from travel that I’d start doing my weekly show at fringe or vice versa. I’d realize it part way through and have to adjust accordingly!

But now, after three months of touring, rewriting, rehearsing, and preparing…I feel like it’s ready. It’s still not exactly where I want it to be - but I ran out of time. You can’t be a perfectionist about a show like this or it’ll never get onstage. Done is better than perfect.

For now, it’s a fireworks show with a hidden meaning. I lull the audience into a sense of complacency with rapid-fire demonstrations and only then do I sneak in the philosophical ideas that matter most to me.

The more festivals I do the more I realize that I’m less of a mentalist and more of a storyteller. I love telling stories, it just happens that mind reading is the vehicle with which I tell them.

I’ve written more about this on other posts, but my goal with the fringe tours was always to work on an edgier, riskier show. I wanted to take chances and push myself as an artist. And, I feel like that’s exactly what I’ve done.

Eleven fringes in two years has been a life-changing experience. I like stacking my show up against other shows - storytellers, musicals, plays, comedians, and more - and seeing how it compares. I’ve enjoyed listening to feedback (positive and negative) and learning how to get better quickly.

And, I’ve learned to ignore the critics and the naysayers who don’t get what I’m doing. Sometimes they’re other know-it-all artists who think they’ve found the only way to do art correctly. Sometimes it’s a journalist who doesn’t care for your genre. And sometimes it’s yourself.

The more you put yourself out there, the more negativity you invite. So I’ve learned to ignore it, keep working, and believe in what I’m doing.

This will be my last festival for awhile. There are a few other projects that I have lined up, so I probably won’t go on tour next summer. But there are seven chances to see me live in Edmonton before I stop doing this version of the show and start working on something new.

Stay tuned! The tour may be ending but I’m only getting started.

Mystery

I can pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with mystery.

It was entirely unrelated to theatre or performance or mind reading. It wasn’t a movie or a book or a play. It was much simpler than that.

It was a game.

A favorite childhood game in my family was “Hide The Thimble” where you take a thimble and, well, hide it. The object of the game was to keep the bright, shiny thimble in plain sight so that you could easily see it from anywhere in the room.

We had dozens of favorite hiding spots. The thimble easily balanced on a picture frame or fit over a lamp switch. You could sit it between piano keys or rest it high atop a ceiling fan. The possibilities were endless.

We mostly played “Hide The Thimble” when visiting family, so we were full of anticipation upon arrival. We’d take turns hiding and finding the thimble, without a care in the world. There were no iPhones or internet back then so we were content to play as long as our relatives would put up with us.

On one occasion, someone (I can’t quite remember who) hid the thimble while the rest of us waited in the other room. Then the seeker (I wish I could remember) led the rest of us into the target area.

Minutes passed and the thimble had yet to be found. We were all stumped and excitedly waited for the “seeker” to discover its whereabouts.

Another ten minutes had passed and still no thimble.

“Show us!” we begged, but the person who hid it had forgotten where it was.

We were a patient family. It was in our blood. We would play chess and tennis and board games for hours. We would design extravagant scavenger hunts for each other and organize massive rounds of Capture The Flag.

What I’m trying to say is that we would have looked for that thimble for hours. We would have stayed in that room and kept looking if my dad hadn’t told us it was time to head home.

“But we haven’t found the thimble yet!” someone said.

“Well, we’ll have to find it next time then,” my dad said, as we followed him to the driveway.

There was no next time.

Time passed, and so did relatives. Things changed and we grew older. 

The thimble was never found.

I think about that thimble often. I wonder where it was hidden and what might have happened to it.

Did it fall off a light switch and roll under a shelf? Was it resting just above our eyeline and we had forgotten to look up? Did the future owners renovate that room and discover a small, shiny object underneath the floorboards?

Or maybe it was never meant to be found?

Over the years I’ve learned to be okay with not knowing. I like it that way.

Jump

I went skydiving this week. For real.

I jumped out of a plane at 13,500 feet with a guy named Adam who I’d never met until the day of the jump. We fell for 60 seconds at around 120 mph before he pulled the chute and we floated back down to the drop zone at Skydive Chicago.

It was unlike anything I’ve done before and I’ll definitely be doing it again.

The whole morning everyone kept asking me if I was nervous. They wanted to know if I was freaking out or going to be sick.

The truth is, I wasn’t.

I really hadn’t had much time to think about it. I’ve been so busy with my summer tour and my weekly show that I hadn’t had a moment to get nervous.

So when it came to the big day I was just excited. I signed the waiver, got suited up, and next thing I knew we were jumping out of a plane.

Piece of cake.

Those questions reminded me of when I moved to Los Angeles after I finished college.

Back then, I was on a quest to go to Hollywood and follow my dreams. So the second I finished school I packed my bags and headed west. I left my wonderful girlfriend (now wife!) crying in a parking lot and my gorgeous mustang convertible behind, all so I could pursue my passion.

All I had with me was a suitcase of clothes, my computer, my props, and 500 bucks. That was it.

Everyone I talked to had a version of the same question:

When did you know you were ready to move to LA?

My answer was always the same: I was never ready.

At the time, my show wasn’t good enough. I didn’t have enough money or a good plan for when I got to SoCal. I was completely alone. But I knew I had to move or else I might never go at all.

Moving right away meant that before I could get nervous I was already there. I was immediately immersed in a new city with new adventures, so I put my head down and got to work. The next thing I knew, I was taking the bus to gigs in all corners of LA. I found an agent, booked a commercial, and started to build momentum.

I still approach things this way. I dive into something and figure it out as I go.

Sometimes I do shows for several thousand people. It’s a huge responsibility to entertain such a big audience, but I don’t think about it. Instead I do my sound check and preparations like any other show, then head to the dressing room. Next thing I know, I’m being introduced and running onstage. There’s no time to be nervous.

Sometimes it’s better not to overthink things and just do it. Go see a movie without reading the reviews. Take a trip without planning it out. Venture out into your city and find something new.

You’ll never be fully prepared for anything. You can sit around and plan all you want. But at some point you’ll have to just go for it. You’ll have to make your move, take a chance, and jump!

10 Things I've Learned From 10 Fringe Festivals

I’m in the middle of a run of performances at the Kansas City Fringe Festival and I just realized that this is the 10th fringe festival I’ve done in less than two years. Amazing!

I’m far from a fringe veteran - I know many people who have done far more festivals than I have. But, I’m thrilled that I’ve been able to juggle my usual schedule of corporate/college events with some theatrical shows.

After my tour last year a lot of performers sent me messages asking for advice and input on which festivals to do and how to get the most out of them. Now that I’ve officially reached double digits, I thought it might be useful to put a list of things I’ve learned together, just in case you might want to give the festival circuit a try yourself!

I had two main goals going into my first festival:

First, I wanted to work on an edgier show, a show that I couldn’t do in my usual gigs. I wanted to make it more personal, include more storytelling, and try to stretch myself as an actor/entertainer.

Also, I wanted to get some great press quotes for my show. I hoped that I could design a show that would garner some buzz that I could use for other projects, too.

After my first festival, I knew I was onto something. So I started rewriting the show and put together my first tour. Flash forward two years later and here I am, about to wrap up another successful run in Kansas City.

I’ve learned some amazing things over the past couple years that have even helped me in my everyday life. So even if you never plan on doing a fringe festival I hope you’ll get something out of the top 10 Things I’ve Learned From 10 Fringe Festivals:

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1 - SEEK OUT FEEDBACK

For me, fringe has been a great way to talk to my audiences and understand how they perceive what I do. I’m always seeking out feedback and trying to improve. Ask the people around you what was good and what could be better. And when they talk, shut up and listen. That’s how you get better in a hurry.

2 - BE READY FOR CRITICISM

Doing a fringe show means you’re inviting criticism. If audiences don’t enjoy it, they’ll let you know. And press reviews vary from festival to festival. Sometimes the press is on your side and other times they may not like your show at all. I had a friend who got his best review and worst review from the SAME SHOW! 

Learn to embrace the criticism and try to develop a thick skin. It’s not personal. Share your positive reviews and don’t complain about the negative. Hold your head up high and be proud of how far you’ve come. 

In the beginning, a negative comment or review would get me down for days. I’d be so frustrated that people weren’t understanding my motives or missing the point of my show. But I soon realized that it’s not up to me. Once I do the show, it’s out of my control. They either liked it or they didn't, and that’s okay. You learn from it, get better, and there’s always another show around the corner so you can try again.

3 - YOU GET OUT WHAT YOU PUT IN

Fringe is all about the work. I spend most of the time between shows promoting. I pass out postcards and hang posters or send invites to media contacts and friends to make sure they’re aware of my upcoming performances. Some of my best reviews have been a result of multiple follow-ups! As with anything in life, the key is to work hard every single day. When I’m at a festival I take it very seriously. It’s a job for me and I’m here to build my fan base and sell tickets. The harder I work, the better the result.

4 - NOT ALL AUDIENCES ARE EQUAL, BUT ALL ARE IMPORTANT

Not all audiences are equal. I’m sure that sounds obvious, but what I mean is that every audience during a festival is different, let alone different from city to city. Sometimes you do a show at 1:30pm on a Sunday, other times you have a 9pm slot on a Saturday. Each audience varies depending on many factors, so you can’t become discouraged when the audience response is wildly different from night to night.

If anything, I’ve learned to embrace the audience reaction in the moment and cater to them. I assume that if I give the audience my best then they’re giving me their best, too. Sometimes a quiet room ends up being one of my best shows, but it’s taken me a long time to realize that.

5 - MASTER YOUR PITCH

You only have a few minutes to capture someone’s interest. When I hand out postcards I know what I’m going to say and how I’m going to say it. I’ve gotten it down to a science because I rehearsed it. I'm not kidding about this - you can ask my wife.

I thought about how to make it appealing for fringe patrons and practiced it until it was effortless. No matter what you do, it’s a great skill to be able to talk about your work concisely and enthusiastically. When your “elevator pitch” is strong, then other people get excited about what you do and usually they’re willing to help you any way they can.

6 - TIMING IS EVERYTHING

Everything at a festival runs on “fringe time”. That means the show starts exactly when it says it will and it ends exactly an hour later. You can’t be late and you can’t run long. I love that! It’s forced me to methodically plan my show so it runs on schedule. After hundreds of shows over the past couple years I have an amazing awareness of my act.

Now I intuitively know when I’ve reached 30, 45, or even 60 minutes. I can just feel it. This level of planning has helped me in other aspects of my job, including TV appearances that need to be a certain length, custom corporate projects, and phone presentations. Planning is crucial, which leads me to…

7 - PREPARATION IS KEY

The more work you put in before the festival, the more successful you’ll be. In the months leading up to each festival I’m already planning out my entire week. I’ve researched press contacts, promotional opportunities, booked my travel, planned my schedule, and sought out other performance opportunities. Plus, I have to design flyers, posters, press releases, and merch. Oh, and you still need to rehearse your act to make sure it’s ready for the stage! If you stay organized and plan ahead you’ll be sure to succeed no matter what you’re doing.

8 - FIND A WAY TO STAND OUT

The first step is obvious. Try to have the best product you possibly can. I spent the entire winter writing a new show and secretly testing out material around Chicago. I repeated some festivals this year and didn't want repeat audiences to see the same show as the previous fringe. A good show can only go so far, though, you still need to build buzz.

I'm lucky, because a mind reading show is a great way to build buzz. It’s different and exciting and people love it. But I go out of my way to make it even more mysterious with my branding, a few carefully-scripted lines in the show, and intentionally vague postings online. Whatever you can do to be different and exciting, do it! Find your hook and let people know that this is why they need to see you. And if you don’t know what the hook is, just listen.

I had a friend try an experimental show just for fun at one festival. It went over so well that he ended up writing two more shows for that silly character.  Now it’s a favorite on the fringe circuit. Over time the audience will let you know if you’re on the right track. Then you can build on that and use it to your advantage.

9 - OWN IT

Don’t be ashamed of what you do. It was easy early on to be dismissive of my show as a “variety act”. Some of the other fringe acts have even been dismissive as well: “I prefer actual theater.” or “I’m not really a fan of that stuff.”  But that’s okay. You have to know that what you do isn’t for everyone, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be proud of your work and own it.

Be confident in your product and speak passionately about it. I’ve outsold shows that have won “Best of Festival” because I found a way to make my show more appealing, but only because I’m not ashamed of my craft. I think it’s worth seeing and that’s what I'm constantly telling everyone I encounter during the festivals.

10 - YOU ARE THE SHOW

You never know what venue you’ll be in. It could be a hot gymnasium in a church, the back of a loud bar, a nice theater, or a small black box. (Those are all actual venues I’ve performed in!) Chances are you won’t be performing in an amazing state-of-the-art space, but that’s part of the fun. It’s up to you to transform the space into something memorable. I love being in less-than-ideal venues because I get to treat it as a challenge.

I make it my goal to make those rooms come alive. I want people to walk out of a converted space raving about the amazing show they just saw! Thanks to fringe I feel like I can walk into nearly any space and own it. It shouldn't matter where you are because you are the show - so make it exciting, fun, and captivating no matter what.

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Those are 10 of the most important things I’ve learned over the past two years. It’s been an exhilarating experience and I’m so glad I’ve been able to do two consecutive tours.

If you’re interested in doing a fringe festival and have other questions, shoot me an email. Otherwise, you can catch my last two performances at KC Fringe this weekend!