The Right Person

I spend most of my show reading people. Not minds - people.

I’m constantly scanning the audience for the next volunteer. I need a person who is cooperative and seems friendly. They need to be helpful and able to follow instructions. It helps if they’re sober, too.

See, my show is not about me. It’s about you, the audience. I think of you as my cast, your thoughts as my props, and your mind as my stage. So I need to find the best volunteers to become supporting players in this production.

I don’t stop reading someone when they come onstage either. If anything, I’m watching them even more closely.

Are they uncomfortable? Or nervous? 

Am I respecting their boundaries?

Are they able to take a joke? Or did I just cross a line?

I’m always weighing those questions and catering my performance to their subconscious, subtle demands.

Then, I watch for the ultimate cue: Are they ready?

Are they ready for the moment? Have I taken them to a place where they are fully prepared to react?

Will they be amazed?

Then, and only then, will they be ready for the moment of wonder. These things take time, and it all comes down to being a good judge of people.

When it comes to the show, I can be a bit of a control freak. I’ll give you an example: 

During my tour this summer I hid somewhere in the theatre so I could watch people while they entered the room. In Florida, I paper clipped the curtains at an angle so I could peek thru a slit. In Ontario, I hid in the shadows to get a view of people as they took their seats. In San Diego, I widened a pre-existing hole in the drywall. I wanted to get an idea of what kind of audience I was working with before the show even began. 

There’s a point in my show where I try to find one of the smartest men in the room to participate. I want an engineer or architect, someone who is good with numbers and a bit cynical of the proceedings. It’s not supposed to be a challenge. It’s because I want the audience to witness a transformation.

The penultimate show of The Mystery Tour was also the best show of the entire tour. It was perfectly paced and the audience was with me every step of the way. One of the best parts was when I called on a man for the “transformative moment”.

I’d been watching this guy the whole show. He was clearly very smart and also extremely skeptical of what I was doing. It wasn’t a rude skepticism. It was a “I’ll-only-buy-it-if-it-happens-to-me” kind of vibe.

“What do you do for a living, sir?” I asked.

“I work in IT,” he replied.

I smiled to myself. After hundreds of shows, year after year, you just know these things.

The man took a seat onstage and I started to break down his barriers. My script is full of self-deprecating jokes and reassuring gestures to make sure my volunteer knows he is an equal and not an adversary.

Several minutes passed and we’d reached the point of no return: the moment of wonder. In rapid succession his guard dropped at roughly the same rate as his jaw. Then, he just started laughing to himself.

It was incredible. The audience had seen a jaded man walk onstage and visibly transform in front of their very eyes. It had all happened in under five minutes.

“Give him a big round of applause!” I said, shaking his hand as I led him back to his seat.

Under the cover of the applause he looked up at me and said “That was fucking insane.”

I wish I could put that quote on my website. In a way, I guess I am.

My title may be “Mind Reader” but the truth is, it really comes down to reading people. I’m not here to convince you of something supernatural or get you to buy into a new belief system. I’m just here to show you that maybe there’s something more to this than what you think. Maybe the world is just a little bit bigger or more mysterious than you thought it was before the curtain went up.

To do that I need the right person. And if you’re lucky, it might be you.

The Tour Is Over

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That’s it. The tour is over.

I performed 35 shows at six festivals in six cities and two countries. Plus, I also performed the show another 30 times in Chicago to get it ready. 

So, what did I learn?

First, I can do this. All on my own, without a manager or agent or publicist. I consistently sold out theaters and built buzz without a big budget or team behind me. That’s how the best shows at fringe festivals do it. They have a good product and they work tirelessly to get the word out. 

Second, this is exhausting. There was a stretch this summer when I didn’t sleep more than two hours a night for over 10 days. Albeit, I was leaving festivals in the middle for corporate gigs then returning to finish my run. But, my insomnia was at an all-time high and I struggled to stay rested. Coffee remains my best friend.

Also, I found the show. It was like the statue of David, encased in stone waiting to be chiseled away and revealed. (Although, it isn’t remotely close to being a Michelangelo-level-masterpiece but I really like the metaphor.)

Somewhere between New York City and Orlando, I found the message. It’s not a mind reading show - it’s a show about mind reading. Over time it’s become a manifesto for everything I believe in, using mind reading and storytelling to express a single idea.

Some people got it, many did not. I learned not to worry about reviews because most writers didn’t understand. As long as the review was positive it would help fill the seats, even if they weren’t fully capturing the essence of the performance. I realized that once I sent an idea out into the world it stopped belonging to me. And I had to be content knowing that I had done my best to express myself, even if no one got the point.

Another thing I learned is that it’s easy to get pigeon-holed at a festival. You have to choose a performance genre because people want to know what to expect. But if you aren’t careful, people can get confused in a hurry.

So often the press would insist on calling it a “magic show”, even though I never use that expression. I could sense that the only way to get people to see my show was to choose the “magic” category, even though it was clouding the expectations of my audience. People would come expecting a standard magic show and I did my best to convince them they were seeing something unique and better.

Common feedback was something along the lines of “I usually don’t like magic shows but this one is different!” followed by a solid recommendation. That comment taught me two things:

1. I’m on the right track.
2. Too many magicians have similar shows and haven’t worked hard enough to appeal to a broader demographic.

Recently a performer was discussing a (in my opinion) cheesy prop online. HIs comment was “There’s a time and place for everything. I try to give the audience what they want.”

I prefer to do the opposite.

I think about what I want to do and I consider what I want to say. Then I write my show to convey my own personal truth. The hardest part is convincing the audience it’s what they wanted all along.

By the end of the tour, the show was doing exactly that. My audiences were raving and I ended up winning a total of five awards in the process, including “Best of Fringe” (NYC), “Audience Choice” (NYC), “Pick of Fringe” (Orlando), “Critics Choice” (Portland, ME),  and “Outstanding Magic or Mentalist Performance” (San Diego).

I feel like all the rehearsing and writing and traveling and performing and dreaming finally paid off. I’ve spent the better part of the last several years crafting this show from the ground up and I’m so proud of it. But it’s time to bid it farewell.

I have other things to say and more, possibly better, ideas. If I don’t explore them now and force myself to create something else then I’ll never grow as an artist. I don’t want to settle for something just because it works. I want to evolve and change onstage, just as I do in the real world. 

So, I’m already writing the next show and will be presenting it for the first time at the Chicago Fringe Festival in two months. Then I’m taking the show on the road.

For as long as I can remember my biggest goal has been to do a full-blown theatre tour around the U.S. I’d like to say it’s time to check that goal off the list but I’m not ready for that just yet.

The end of this tour is only the beginning.

An Open Letter

To The Man In The Third Row:

I rarely feel the need to confront an audience member, sir, but suffice it to say you were that rare case.

It wasn’t hard to notice you were on your phone. When you’re onstage any little change in the environment sticks out like a sore thumb.

So, while I was trying to give a good performance tonight all I could see was the glow of your face, lit up like you were about to tell a scary story. I found it quite distracting to the moment I was trying to carefully craft onstage.

See, I’ve performed this version of the show over 100 times in the past six months. It’s rock solid. So that means I get to play with it now. I set the script to auto-pilot and go in search of new discoveries. I try to make more eye contact and find new ways to connect. Now that I understand the skeleton of the show I get to make something artistic out of it.

But that means I’m hyper aware of any little change to the theater. And so I couldn’t help but notice you were in the third row, on your phone, playing a game while I was trying to work.

For the past two months I’ve spent every day either onstage or in an airport. (Some days both.) There have been days when I’ve woken up and forgotten what city I was in. I’ve battled allergies and depression. I’ve lost my luggage and lost my voice. All in the name of the craft.

So tonight, running on no sleep, I knew I needed to focus extra hard. I wanted to give a good show. And after 20 minutes I was well on my way to one of my greatest feats - creating an audience out of a random group of strangers.

Then I saw you. And I couldn’t help but call you out.

I needed you to know that you were being disruptive and that being on your phone was disrespectful and a major distraction. I don’t regret that and I don’t regret making you sheepishly put your phone away while everyone else watched.

I did so knowing I would lose every ounce of momentum I had worked so hard to build. But it had to be done, so I channeled my inner Patti Lupone.

The point isn’t about being on your phone or living in the moment. The point isn’t that you embarrassed your wife or really made it awkward for everyone in attendance. (Not for me, though, I’m already thinking about my next show.)

No, the point is that the audience is an essential part of my performance. Without them there are no minds to read or thoughts to send. Without the audience there is no show. So I expect the audience to hold up their end of the bargain. I expect you to meet me in the middle so I can give you the show you deserve.

And if you do, I promise I’ll show you something that you can’t find anywhere else. Not even on your smartphone.

- MT

Compromise

I’ve decided to stop compromising. You have to draw the line somewhere, right?

So from now on, I will no longer perform for any organization or venue that I don’t agree with. I’m writing it here so you’ll hold me to it.

That means I will no longer be working for any establishment that uses non-renewable energy. We really need to start caring for the environment so I’ll be doing my part, too.

I guess that means I can’t drive or fly to any gigs because I shouldn’t be using fuel, so I will only be doing gigs that are within walking distance of my apartment.

Also, please no religious messages at your event. I’m non-religious and there are probably people in your group that feel the same way. Of course, I’m happy for you to believe whatever you want but if your event includes prayers I will be unable to attend.

Is it too much to ask people to not wear or eat any animal products during the function?  And while we’re at it, I’m not a fan of big banks or tobacco products or gambling or drugs or alcohol or ignorance or bad politics or racism or sexism or misogyny or bad opinions or country music. Please be advised if you choose to book me for your next event.

I mean, I need to take a stand, right? I shouldn’t work for any company I disagree with. I shouldn’t use any products that don’t align with my beliefs. And I shouldn’t associate with people who have a differing viewpoint than my own. If I did, people might mistake me making a living for making an endorsement.

Look, the way I see it is you can either be the guy who drops in for one weird evening in Madison, WI or you can be a barista at Starbucks and either way, you’re still working for "the man". If you want to make a living at this, you're going to need to compromise. Even Leonardo da Vinci did commissioned work to get by.

It’s so easy to take the hypothetical high ground when it comes to these debates. But for those of us actually working, traveling, performing, and living off of art alone, it’s not so simple. 

This is complex territory. It’s not that we don’t have principles, it’s just that we also need to work to survive. We have to make a living and sometimes that means doing a gig that doesn’t fully align with what you believe. 

I know that means a career full of meeting-in-the-middle and deals and choosing my battles so I can get ahead. But that’s where I’m headed and I make no apologies for compromising every once in a while to get there.

I’ve heard people having the same debate multiple times on my travels this summer. They wonder “Doesn’t it cease to be art once you get paid for it?”

No. It doesn’t.

Don’t confuse hard work with a lack of artistic purpose.

After college I slept on couches in shitty apartments in Los Angeles. I took the city bus two hours away to meetings alone and did gigs for $50 just to get my name out there.

As a newlywed, I invested every bit of money I had into a career that my wife couldn’t possibly envision like I did. But I believed in it and knew what I wanted to be doing.

And now I am. 

I didn’t sell-out. I just worked really hard to find a way to make a living doing what I’ve always wanted to do. 

I know where I want to be and I’ll do everything I can to get there. When it comes to that, I refuse to compromise.

Rave Reviews At Port Fringe

I'm in the middle of a run of five shows at PortFringe in Portland, Maine. I've already performed two shows and have three more to go.

The first half of my run is being performed at Geno's Rock Club, with the last two shows being held at Fringe Central. In my downtime I've been exploring Portland and taking street photos.

People seem to be enjoying the show here in Maine. See below for a few of the reviews I've received so far!

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“The ending left me on the verge of happy tears. (I’m welling up just thinking about it!) My mind is still blown.”

— Joseph Cagney IV, Port Fringe

(Read Review)

“Mark Toland clearly created his show with the skeptic in mind - not because it will convince you of the supernatural, but because it’s presented in the spirit of fun and entertainment. It’s full of laugh out loud moments and countless surprises. Mark is brilliant, funny, and energetic with just the right amount of awkward energy to let you know he’s a performance nerd at heart.”

— Robbie Carey, PortFringe First Looks

(Read Review)

“I’ve been instructed not to spoil the show, but suffice to say you might just have your mind blown.”

— Anonymous, PortFringe First Looks

(Read Review)

“Mark Toland is truly, bogglingly, mystifying - on top of that he ingeniously gives the illusion that he’s giving no illusion - just a really nice guy casually doing the absolutely impossible.”

— Richard Sewell, Maine Theater Collective

(Read Review)

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The tour isn't over yet! I still have three shows left at PortFringe, then head to San Diego for five shows at the San Diego International Fringe Festival. Ticket info below!

Stick With It

This is my 45th “Thursday Thoughts” entry. Between 44 and 45 something interesting happened. I got an email from someone that started with the following:

““Hi Mark,

I stumbled across your blog and was fascinated with your love of theatre, writing, and mentalism. I’d love to have you perform at our upcoming event in New York…””

That's right. It took me 44 posts but I just booked a show from my blog.

That was never the intention, of course. I just started writing because I enjoy it. I’ve had multiple blogs throughout the years, covering a wide range of topics, but this is the longest I’ve stuck with it. It just feels right, like I’ve finally started to find a voice and have important stuff to say.

It’s not always easy. Sometimes I write next Thursday’s post on last Friday. Other days I don’t get around to it until I’m at the airport early Thursday morning. But I haven’t missed a day and I guess people are actually reading.

I’ve considered putting the blog on hold so I could focus on other things. It takes a lot of time each week to craft a post that I’m proud of. I could easily spend that time working on more important, lucrative, tangible projects. But I enjoy it, so I keep writing.

And after 45 essays, 239 drafts, 106 abandoned topics, many late nights and early mornings, that’s the best advice I can give you.

I’m not saying you should start a blog or try to be a writer. I’m just saying that whatever you’re doing, you should keep at it. 

There will come a time when it feels pointless and you don’t want to keep doing whatever you’re doing any more. When that time comes, that’s when you need to work even harder.

That’s the moment when you have to give whatever you’re doing all you have because that’s the moment that matters the most. If you persevere and push through your roadblocks then there’s something great waiting for you on the other side.

Whatever you’re doing, you’ve gotta stick with it.

Rave Reviews At London Fringe

I just finished a run of six shows at London Fringe in Ontario. It's been a fascinating experience to spend two weeks in Canada and perform my show for a different audience. Luckily, they loved it! Here are just a few of the reviews I've received:

“A celebration of mystery from a mind-blowing mind reader.”

— M-Dash

(Read Review)

“You will leave the theater wondering how he knew so much…and what else he knows that he did not reveal.”

— Shelley Carr, Independent Reviewer

(Read Review)

“Mark Toland: Mind Reader is in the top two of fringe shows I have seen this year. Highly recommended!”

— Theatre In London

(Read Review)

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Also, here are a few more reviews from social media:

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The tour isn't over yet! You can still catch me at PortFringe and San Diego Fringe later this month!

Perfection

My office is a mess. My personal closet needs some serious attention. Things that don't directly relate to my work get thrown aside and forgotten.

Yet, my show is a well-oiled machine. My travel bag is always packed the same way and ready to go at a moment's notice. When it comes to what matters most to me, I'm a perfectionist.

Everything I need to perform my show is meticulously labeled and organized. Props are separated by type and size, then alphabetized and numbered. Everything has a place and everything gets used. It has a very American Psycho vibe...in that if you touch my stuff I might kill you.

Onstage, I'm constantly seeking perfection. I'm not simply satisfied with a good performance. If they applaud, then I want them to stand. If they laugh, I need it to be louder. If the show gets reviewed then I'll be disappointed if they didn't completely get it...even if it's a five-star review.

I'm insatiable.

Sometimes 99% of the audience will be on board but I'll spot the one person who isn't enjoying it. The rest of the show becomes a battle to win that person over.

After a show I only remember what went wrong. I'll fume about the little things for hours...until another show replaces those memories with new mistakes.

Sometimes I wonder if it will ever be enough. Will I have the show that pushes me over the edge and allows me to be fully fulfilled with what I do? Or will I forever be chasing a goal that keeps shifting and changing over time?

And why am I such a perfectionist about some things, but not others?

What if the thing you like most about yourself is also the thing that keeps you from being totally satisfied?

I don't expect answers, I'm just thinking out loud here. Besides, your answers probably won't satisfy me either.

On The Fringe

I’m two weeks into The Mystery Tour. So far I’ve performed nine shows, had one TV appearance, found my way into several newspaper articles, and even won an award - “Patrons Pick” at the Orlando Fringe! It’s been an exhausting but rewarding fortnight.

I’ve also met some seriously talented people - writers, creators, performers, dancers, comedians, artists - who have the same drive and desire to perform as I do. All I want in life is to be surrounded by creative people. I guess I may have to permanently live on the fringe circuit.

After my Orlando Fringe experience I think I’m supposed to be doing this. I have a Type-A-don’t-take-no-for-an-answer-unrelenting-persistent-personality that never lets up. It’s perfect for fringe.

When you aren’t performing at the festival you spend the day promoting. If you hate talking to strangers or talking about yourself, then this might not be for you. Just today alone I walked four or five miles to hang up posters, lay out postcards, and tell people about my show. 

The conversation always goes like this:

“I have a mind reading show in the festival! Please come if you can.”

“Shouldn’t you know if I’m coming or not?” the person replies, thinking that’s the first time I’ve ever heard that joke.

“I was just being polite. You’ll be at my second show. It’s Saturday at 8.”

They laugh awkwardly as I stare back, then cautiously take the postcard I’m offering them.

Imagine having that conversation a hundred times or more every day. That’s what fringe is like.

Fringe teaches you how to succeed anywhere. You’re thrust into a space with a thrust stage or boxed into a black box. Sometimes there’s no air conditioning and other times it’s freezing. You learn to do your show anywhere and make it look effortless.

Fringe teaches you to coexist with people from all genres. In a world where lines are constantly being drawn, a fringe festival blurs them so anyone from musicians to mind readers to storytellers to sketch comedians can share the stage without fear of judgment.

Luckily for me, I’ve already been doing this in the college and corporate market. I’ve been sharing a wide range of stages with a wide range of performers for years. I’ve been a shameless self-promoter since kindergarten.

That's not to say fringing doesn't come with its share of challenges.

I've slept less than four hours every night for two weeks. Last week I flew back to Chicago for a show then right back to Orlando to finish the fringe. I got sick from the trip but was able to recover within 48 hours thanks to some drugs and a whole lot of water.

I'm living out of a suitcase, eating sporadically, and learning from the mistakes I made just 5 minutes ago. But this is the life I've always wanted and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Like I said, I’m supposed to be doing this.

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Catch me live at the London Fringe in Ontario over the next ten days! Click here to buy tickets.