It Just Takes One

As I was starting out in my career I faced a dilemma:

I needed proof to show clients so they would want to work with me. Photos, videos, press articles - you name it. I needed to be able to show future clients something that would help them say “Hey, this guy looks legit! Maybe we should work with him, too.”

The only problem was I needed the right kind of gigs to get those photos and videos. I instinctively realized that if I kept using photos from my early gigs then I would continue to get those kinds of gigs. In order to get where I wanted to be, I needed something new.

It felt insurmountable. How could I possibly convince the necessary people to work with me if I didn’t have any work to show them? How could I possibly create a sustainable career out of nothing? I knew where I wanted to be and I knew I was good enough - I just didn’t know how to get there.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, an opportunity fell into my lap. A client, whom I had worked for previously, referred me to a company out of state. A month later I was boarding a plane and on my way to their event. I didn’t know it at the time, but that trip was about to change everything.

Most of the time I’m traveling I don’t always know what I’m getting myself into. Gigs can be big or small, in beautiful, sprawling theaters or multi-purpose rooms. My entertainment fits everywhere so you learn to lower your expectations and make the most of each opportunity. The goal isn’t to fit the show into as exciting a venue as possible; it’s to make the show as exciting as possible no matter the location.

So I approached this trip cautiously. I assumed it was just another standard gig. I had no idea I was walking into a massive conference in a beautiful resort…but that’s exactly what it was.

I did my sound check and confidently told everyone that everything was in place. In my head, though, I was giving myself a pep talk. “This is what you’ve been waiting for! You deserve this! This is why you’ve been working so hard!”

I tried to channel my nerves into adrenaline. Every thing I’d worked on had been building to that moment and it was time to prove I belonged there. I took the stage, did one of the best shows in my life, and walked offstage to a big standing ovation.

I was on cloud nine!

Surely my performance was going to lead me to more gigs. Surely everyone there needed entertainment, too, and now that they had seen me the calls would start pouring in. This was my moment!

But that’s not what happened. 

The truth is, the gig itself didn’t lead to any more work. The show was great but the attendees weren’t future clients, they were just at the conference for their respective companies. They weren’t looking for new entertainment.

Instead, something even better happened. As I left the show room I went around a corner and saw a giant TV screen in the main lobby. A slideshow was playing on the screen, different photos and moments from the conference so far.
‘
“Cool!” I thought, “Maybe someone got a decent photo of me.”

And then I saw it. The most epic, beautiful, stunning photo I could possibly have. The event photographer had captured my show in all its glory and it looked amazing!

That one photo became the face of the brand. It was on every page of my website, included with all of my materials, and even on the back of my business card for awhile. I finally had a way to convince clients in my chosen markets to work for me. I finally had some proof!

I always thought that I would need hundreds of photos and videos to get where I wanted to be. The thought of having to build such a large portfolio of work had seemed impossible. But it didn’t take hundreds or dozens or several.

It just took one.

That one photo opened so many doors for me. New clients, new shows, new agents, new opportunities. I can trace a direct line from where I am now back to that show and that incredible image.

Recently I did an overhaul on my site and updated a lot of my pictures. It was finally time for me to replace that photo with something new. But I couldn’t help getting a little nostalgic remembering how crucial that image was to my early progress as an entrepreneur and entertainer.

Everything that seems impossible can be broken down to its simplest parts. Anything that seems too challenging begins with one single step forward.

Training for a race? You just have to take the first step. 

Starting a new business? Do one thing that needs to be done. Then another. And another.

Trying to learn a new skill? Start with one thing.

No matter what you’re doing, start small and keep it simple. And when you do get that big opportunity take advantage of that moment. When something big happens for you, be ready and never look back.

I’m proof that it just takes one thing. One word, one step, one idea, one photo.

It just takes one.

Don't Mess With A Good Thing

I’ve lived in Chicago for about seven years now. When we first moved here there were a bunch of restaurants we would frequent each week. They quickly become part of our routine, a rotation of dining hotspots that we could rely on for a quick meal at a moment’s notice.

But over the past few years we’ve stopped going to many of those restaurants. The reason? Each location made too many drastic changes all at once.

For instance, there was a breakfast diner that was two blocks away from us. They had amazing breakfast sandwiches, donuts, and a hash brown to die for. Then, out of the blue, they replaced the hash brown with breakfast potatoes and got rid of the breakfast sandwich.

We tried to keep going, but a month later the walls were a different color and the potato option had changed again. What we had grown to love was being replaced with new things at a rapid pace. Evidently we weren’t the only ones that felt this way and it wasn’t long before they went out of business.

The other locations are guilty of the same thing. They changed too much too soon, with no warning whatsoever. The very reason we patronized their establishment was replaced with IMHO an inferior option.

Not all of these restaurants have closed down. Some are still open and are still adjusting their menu and decor. But we’ve stopped going there and gone in search of better places.

Our favorite spots are the ones that haven’t changed much. They feel familiar and we keep going back time after time.

I, too, have suffered from a desire to change things too often. An example: 

In the early days I would update my website design monthly. It was part restlessness and part uncertainty.  I  tried numerous designs and was never satisfied with it. It wasn’t until I decided to choose something and stick with it that I finally understood I had been wasting valuable time.

Instead of worrying about the back-end design I focused on providing value to people: my entertainment. With the website finally in place my mind was free to work on other things and, within a month, Thursday Thoughts was a regular thing.

Of course, my desire to change things isn’t limited to my website. I hate structure and routine, in general. I despise doing things the same way I always do. I crave new experiences and new discoveries. And, in an attempt to avoid the mundane routine of daily life, I used to change my patterns every chance I could, just to keep things fresh. However, it wound up doing just the opposite.

The truth is, a routine is there to give you a framework. The familiarity of doing something the same way over and over gives you a chance to focus on what really matters. Those mundane tasks end up fading into the background and going unnoticed, and suddenly you’ve given yourself a chance to make those exciting discoveries you so desperately crave.

Take my show, for instance.

Each week, I challenge myself to write a new piece for my act. I have a long list of ideas that I want to work on so I script one out, draw stage plots, and write jokes for them. But it’s really just a creative exercise.

There’s no way I would put a new piece onstage every week. It would disrupt the flow of my existing act too much. Instead, I just keep writing and working behind the scenes so I can have a notebook of material that I’m proud of. Eventually, I find a place to perform those ideas. (This year, it’s my tour - starting next week!) But these things take time, and I don’t want to mess with the good thing I have going already: my existing show.

To be honest, I was never going to those diners for an egg sandwich. I was going for a good conversation or a business meeting with a colleague. But I ended up talking about the new table configuration or being confused with the menu. Those things should have been part of the background for my visit but they overshadowed the entire experience.

The restaurants I keep going to are better. I enter, order, eat, and leave. And I don’t even think about it. I mean, I love the food and it’s one of the main reasons I keep going back. But I’m also there to make eye contact with my wife. I’m there to catch up with an old friend. I’m there because I’ve chosen to spend my valuable time in that location. I’m not worried about bad service and I don’t get confused about the ordering process. The music isn’t drowning out my conversation and the entrance and exit are easy to find. It’s seamless.

And that’s been my approach to life the past few years: Up early, coffee, morning run, write, and then what? I don’t know. But starting my day the same way gives me the mental clarity to go in search of something different.

I won’t be changing that anytime soon.

Out Of My Mind

I’m excited to finally announce my 2018 summer tour dates!

This summer I’m taking my show to Ontario, San Diego, Kansas City, Alberta, and New York City for the “Out Of My Mind” tour.

I’ll be performing shows at the following festivals:
• London Fringe
• San Diego International Fringe Festival
• Kansas City Fringe
• Edmonton Fringe Festival
• United Solo

You can buy tickets to my shows at each of the above links. For the specific dates and times at each festival, check out the tour page!

Clearly, this summer is shaping up to be busier than ever. One of the best parts about doing fringe festivals is taking risks and pushing yourself to improve your work. So over the past four months I wrote a new show and set some new goals for myself. And now, it’s time to set the plan into action and hit the road.

Don’t worry, though! I’ll still be making trips back to Chicago for MIND READER every Wednesday at 8pm at The Greenhouse Theater Center in Lincoln Park. (Shameless, I know.)

But if you aren’t in Chicago I’d love to see you on tour! To stay up to date on my travels follow me on Instagram or subscribe on YouTube for a behind-the-scenes look at where I’m performing and the process of taking a new show from the page to the stage.

The new show is all about positivity, connections, and hope. I can't wait to get it out of my mind and into yours.

That’s it for this week’s Thursday Thoughts. See you on tour!

Don't Panic

There were ten minutes left before the curtain would go up, ten minutes before my opening lines, ten minutes before the show would begin and I couldn’t look back. And that’s when I heard it.

Sitting in the dressing room, with ten minutes to go, I heard glass shatter out on stage. I raced around the corner, down the hall, and past the curtain to discover that a stagehand had tripped over my table and a prop (made mostly of glass) had shattered into a hundred pieces on the floor.

It doesn’t matter what the prop was, what matters is that you understand that it was essential to my performance. I had been working on a new part of the show for weeks and that prop played a pivotal role in that part of my act.

I was instantly disappointed. All of my work was for naught, my new idea wouldn’t get onstage after all, and I didn’t have a backup plan for that part of the show. I was furious.

My first impulse was to panic. I wanted to scream or throw something or place blame somewhere. Anywhere. I needed somewhere to direct my frustrations. I needed an external place to direct my rising temper. The pressure of the looming performance was getting to me and, now that my new idea was destroyed, it was all I could do to not tear my props down, pack it all up, and head home.

I almost panicked. Almost.

But then, I forced myself to take a deep breath and surveyed the scene. The audience would be here in ten minutes, the show was going to start whether I was ready or not. Freaking out wasn’t going to solve anything. If nothing else, it would just make it worse.

I sat down for a moment and tried to work out a solution. I couldn’t repair it, I didn’t have time to run to my studio for a replacement, and I didn’t really have anything to replace it with.

What to do?

And then, as I sat motionless in the dark, I had a moment of inspiration. It started small, as all ideas do, then grew bigger and bigger, until it had replaced any other idea I’d had up until that point. In that moment of near-panic I found the solution. 

I had created something even better than my original plan.

I raced back to the dressing room, grabbing whatever miscellaneous props I could find. Everything was right in front of me, just waiting for me to put the pieces together. I swept the stage, placed the new props in place, and went back to the dressing room to get focused.

There were five minutes left before the curtain would go up, five minutes before my opening lines, five minutes before the show would begin and I couldn’t look back. And that’s when I knew that this would be one of my best shows yet.

All because I didn’t panic.

Setbacks

I was out for a run last week, counting my steps like always.

One. Two. Three. Four.

It was cold, about to rain, but nice enough to get in a few miles.

Get to that tree. No the next. Catch that guy. You’ve got this.

I rounded the curve next to the golf course in Lincoln Park, just hitting my stride, when I came down on the side of my foot and sharply rolled my ankle.

I winced in pain and collapsed on the side of the path. I’ve rolled my ankle before but this was worse. The run was over and I hobbled a mile back home, my foot throbbing with every step.

Another setback.

See, the past couple of years have been all about getting back on my feet. Custom orthotics, physical therapy, special shoes, and so on.

I’ve been a runner most of my life but a few injuries here and there have left me discouraged and stagnant.

This year was supposed to be different.

But then I rolled my ankle and over the weekend I’d wondered if I might have ruined my chances at getting back to marathon pace this year.

Another freakin’ setback.

I’ve had a lot of setbacks over the course of my career. Both big and little things that made me put stuff on hold or go a different direction.

I’ve had so many setbacks.

I moved to Los Angeles after I graduated and slept on couches for a while. I only had $500 to my name and worked tirelessly to find gigs and get my name out there. I’d take the bus two hours to a show then back again several days a week, just to afford my tiny room and a few groceries to get by. After a year, I had made progress with gigs and gotten better - but I was still broke.

Our first year living in Chicago was miserable. My wife and I spent all of our savings just to afford our first apartment. We maxed out a credit card just so I could travel to gigs. I even got in a car wreck and totaled our car. It was rough.

I self-represented myself for a few years, convinced I would meet an agent who would want to work with me. And I did! An agency offered me a spot and promised me big things. Two years later, I had no gigs to show for it and the agency went bankrupt. I was back where I started.

I’ve had so many attempts at weekly shows in Chicago. (Including my current show MIND READER running right now in Lincoln Park.) This will be my seventh year doing a long-running show in the city. I’ve had venues close in the middle of a run, producers not hold up their end of the bargain, and shows have to close due to unforeseen circumstances. It often felt like the shows would come to a screeching halt, without any warning.

So many setbacks.

But you know what’s great?

Looking back I don’t view any of those moments as “setbacks” because every one of them ended up leading to something better.

Failing in L.A. didn’t mean giving up. It gave me the focus I needed to know how I could make this a success. I realized I didn’t want to sleep on couches forever but that I had what it takes to get gigs and be successful. I just knew it would take time. So I took a step back to reassess, get better, and make a plan.

The first year in Chicago might have been a disaster but it led to a year-long job doing my show at Disney World. When I totaled the car, we made a stupid decision to put the insurance money towards a new camera. My wife taught herself to take photos so we could promote the show. It worked. And now she’s opening her own photography studio in Chicago.

Having a failed experience with an agent made me realize to never rely on someone else. I had a fantasy in my mind that an agent meant I had “made it” and would suddenly be successful. But that’s simply not true. If anything, getting an agent just means you have to work even harder, only on different things. I found out that no one can work as hard on my behalf as I can. I’ll get back to you if that ever changes.

And my experiments with weekly shows has culminated in a current run right now. Every run has gotten better. Every performance was been an education. This year will be my longest run yet and hopefully we’ll keep it going for a while this time.

And as for my ankle…it’s luckily not a fracture. Just a sprain. My doctor tells me I’ll be running again by the end of the month. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. You’d better believe I’m going to conquer the Chicago Marathon again this year.

Every single moment of disappointment has led to something better. Sometimes the better moment happened within a week. Sometimes I didn’t realize it for years. But after I got through the initial phase of being “incredibly bummed out” I got over it and made the most of it. And that has always meant that I was better off than when I started.

Another setback…so that means something great is on the way.

Listen

Listen to your audience. They’ll show you the way.

Are they laughing or cringing? Are they invested or distracted? If you can’t tell the difference just listen and they’ll let you know.

Listen to the critics. They’ll say what no one else will.

Savor the positive and learn from the negative. Don’t be defensive and don’t make excuses. This is how you get better.

Listen to the masses. Read the comments and respond in kind.

Sometimes it takes a small remark to help you make a big discovery. Sometimes you need a little reminder that you’re going in the right direction.

Listen to the experts. The answers are there for your taking.

They already made those mistake so you can make new ones. They already forged the path to make it a little easier for you.

Listen to yourself. Be honest, be open, be positive.

You’ll find out what’s best for you. You just have to be willing to listen.

My Roots

I grew up in a small town in the southeast corner of Kansas. Iola was the kind of town where everyone knew each other and you could get anywhere in town in five minutes.

Our claim to fame was the “largest downtown courthouse square in the US”, a beautifully cultivated center to the town, lined with local shops and restaurants. My father’s law firm was there, too, which meant I spent much of my childhood wandering around the town square.

A block from the town square was my favorite location in Iola: the Bowlus Fine Arts Center. In the 1960’s our little town (two hours away from any major city in Kansas) had been gifted an incredible performing arts center by a local banker. His will gave instructions that the center be used for the local school district’s arts education programs.

We may have only had a handful of fast food restaurants and shops to visit, along with just a few hangout spots to spend our time, but we did have the Bowlus. And it is magnificent.

I’m talking a state-of-the-art theater that seats 750 people (when I lived there the population of my hometown was 5900), along with smaller spaces, rehearsal rooms, and classrooms. And before I even started kindergarten, the Bowlus had changed my life.

I remember watching a plethora of musicals and plays on that stage before I even knew that the people onstage were actors. I was so hypnotized by what I saw that I was convinced that it was real. My parents explained to me that those people in the community theater productions were the same people I saw in our local restaurants and churches and schools and shops. They were the people we sat next to at sporting events and greeted on the way to work.

That was the moment that I knew I would spend my life onstage.

In elementary school we would trek over to the Bowlus to watch performances. There are too many to name, but each excited me more than the last. Sitting in the dark inside our beautiful fine arts center filled me with excitement. We may have been a simple town in the middle of the country but when those lights went down I was in another world: I was in ancient times with Shakespeare or the magical land of Oz or walking through a wardrobe into the unknown land of Narnia.

It was incredible.

In kindergarten my dad told me a great story. Sometime in the 1970’s a famous magician - Harry Blackstone, Jr. - had come to town and performed his show at the Bowlus.

(You may not know who Blackstone was but take it from me - he is a legend amongst magicians. His father was a famous magician, too, and Jr. had continued the family tradition of classical magic in large theaters around the country. When I was five or six and just getting interested in magic I would raid our local library for anything I could find on the matter. There were just a few books and one VHS tape. That tape was a recording of Harry Blackstone, Jr.’s live show. I must have watched that tape a thousand times. 

So now that you understand my adoration of Blackstone, here is the remarkable story my dad told me.)

He explained how in the middle of the show Blackstone had called for several people to join him onstage, including my dad! My dad stood in line with a row of volunteers as Blackstone walked back and forth across the stage, his voice booming to the far corners of the room. Over the course of several minutes, the legendary magician demonstrated the skills of a master pickpocket.

Coins, pens, watches, neckties, belts, wallets, and more were all magically removed from the volunteers’ pockets and - to their surprise - returned with a flourish by Blackstone himself. But! My dad explained how Blackstone had kept him under his spell that night.

“You see, Mark,” my Dad explained, “As he was walking past me on the stage he looked right at me and whispered ‘The next time I walk past give me your watch!’ Then he just kept walking and talking like nothing happened.”

My dad didn’t want the show to fail so he quietly removed his watch and handed it to Blackstone as he crossed the stage. Moments later Blackstone dramatically turned to my father, winked in his direction, and said “And sir, here is your watch!” Everyone in the audience laughed in amazement and my dad returned to his seat.

That was one of the earliest memories I have of understanding what it was like to be a magician. And it was all thanks to the Bowlus.

When I was 8 years old, a mentalist named Craig Karges came to the Bowlus. I’d never seen a mentalist before but it was a life-changing moment. He performed feats so inexplicable that I was convinced he was the real deal. After the show, I somehow got the chance to say hello and he sent someone backstage just to retrieve a business card for me. I kept that card forever, even modeling my first business card off of his.

I saw Peter Pan, The Wizard of Oz, Grease, Shakespeare, and more on that stage. People flew around the stage and witches rose from trap doors. I watched silent films, the symphony, dance concerts, and lectures. Once I even fell asleep at intermission of a show (I was quite young) and woke up with chickenpox.

I performed on the stage numerous times growing up, including as part of the children’s chorus in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat in fifth grade. Then came Bye Bye Birdie, The Pajama Game, Aladdin, Kiss Me Kate, and more.

In middle and high school I began taking classes there. I was part of concert band, the jazz ensemble, choir, art, speech, and drama. I competed at state levels in music and acting. We practiced instruments, studied improv, and rehearsed our shows inside those walls.

Speaking of those walls… The hallways between classrooms in the Bowlus were lined with the artwork of past students. A piece was selected each year to join the collection forevermore. The literal legacy of those walls was held in place by decades of students who had come before us.

A few years ago I even achieved a childhood dream and got to perform my show at the Bowlus. I’ll never forget it.

My high school drama teacher encouraged me to pursue theater. I went to Chicago to audition for the University of Southern California’s acting program halfway through my senior year. I got accepted and moved to Los Angeles the following year.

I stuck with my theater degree and eventually settled in Chicago with my wife (also a performer and artist) where I live now. My work is 100% arts-related and my success can be traced directly back to the time spent at the Bowlus Fine Arts Center.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot over the past few days because I just learned that the school board back in my hometown decided to stop holding arts classes at the Bowlus beginning next fall. I’m heartbroken.

From what I read the decision seems to come down to several factors: safety concerns, educational needs, budgeting, etc. Although the board says otherwise I can’t help but think that the arts is always lacking in support.

You don’t need to hear about the impact the Bowlus Fine Arts Center has on an individual from a full-time entertainer like myself. That should be obvious.

Instead, ask the person who moves to a small town for a new job and gets to see their child perform on a huge stage. Ask the shy kid who, thanks to drama classes, spent their after-school hours being onstage instead of being an outcast. Ask my former classmates who are lawyers and doctors and writers and teachers, but owe their empathy and creativity to that space.

As Thomas H. Bowlus wrote in his will, "I have always been dedicated to the proposition that the best tool with which to equip our youth to confront the future is an education, and that such education should include an appreciation of things artistic, musical, and cultural, as well as things academic and scientific. It is to this end that and for such purposes that I dedicate the aforedescribed premises."

I didn’t learn about life from science or math. I learned about life through Shakespearean sonnets and choral music. I found myself in classical texts and theatrical productions. Being exposed to culture inside the Bowlus allowed me to travel to places far from the midwest in my imagination. It’s a hard thing to understand unless you’ve experienced it, but the way I see it is this: the more art you experience the closer you feel to everyone else in the world. 

I know those classes will continue at the high school and people back home will still participate in the arts. However, I’m sad to know that those students won’t get to walk those hallways like I did, dreaming of one day being on a stage like that myself. When you get to be that close to the dream it’s much easier to make it a reality.

Make Them Care

MAKE THEM CARE.

Those three words are written on the wall in my office. I put them in the inside cover of my notebooks and scrawl them on my hand in sharpie when I’m on the road.

Everything I work on starts with those three words.

I’m not naive, I know that people don’t come to my shows to see me. They’re on a date night or a work event, they got a free ticket or just wanted a fun night out. Rarely are they a fan of me, or even a fan of mind reading.

It’s my job to MAKE THEM CARE.

Think about it: those people could literally be anywhere else. They have instant access to millions of videos and movies on YouTube and Netflix, Hamilton is playing downtown, the Chicago zoo has free admission. They could have been anywhere.

So why would I waste their time when they made the choice to spend an hour with me? 

It’s up to me to MAKE THEM CARE.

When I perform I have to shove aside my ego and think about the audience’s experience first and foremost. I don’t want to pander but I also can’t let myself be too didactic. They don’t want a lecture or a history lesson, they just want to be entertained.

Want to know the real secret to making people care?

The trick is to make everything about them. Whatever you do, put other people first. Share wisdom and inspire others. Lead by example and be positive. Demonstrate through your actions that hard work, enthusiasm, and kindness always pay off. Be the kind of person that people want to emulate, not imitate.

I’m on a mission this year to be more positive and encouraging to everyone I meet. I’m looking to make meaningful connections both on and off stage. I’m trying to be more supportive and thoughtful and helpful as much as I possibly can.

It turns out that making other people happy for no reason makes you tremendously happy in return. And when you care about others it makes them care about you. 

Exciting News

I’m thrilled to announce that starting on May 2nd I will be performing my show “MIND READER” every Wednesday at The Greenhouse Theater Center in Lincoln Park. The show will be at 8 pm for an intimate audience of 50 people. You can read more about the show here. Tickets just went on sale!

Here’s what people are saying about the show:

“Mark Toland is MIND BLOWING!”
- The Chicago Tribune

“He must be THE DEVIL!”
- WGN TV

"A truly magical experience."
- Theatre Is Easy

“An irresistible, wild ride!”
- Picture This Post

“Mark Toland has created a performance that delights and astounds
even the most die-hard skeptic, and is well worth seeing.”
- The Hawk Chicago

“Mark Toland just might freak you out!”
- Orlando Sentinel

“A celebration of mystery!”
- M-Dash

The goal of the show - and really my year in general - is to make positive connections with as many people as possible. The show isn’t about me - it’s about you. The audience is the cast, your thoughts are my props, and your mind is my stage.

I’ve been working on putting up a long-running show for a very long time but there was always something standing in my way. A busy travel schedule, lack of time to fully prepare, a new tour on the horizon - you name it.

It finally occurred to me that there will never be the perfect time to follow your dreams, there will never be the right time to make your move - but there is a best time. The best time to do what you want is right now.

And so, on the eve of my newest tour (full details coming soon), shooting a new web series, writing a book, and still leaving the city each week for corporate gigs, I’ve decided that the time has come to take the stage each week in Chicago and blow some minds.

I look forward to seeing you at the show! For now, check out the new show trailer, just released today:

To stay up to date on show announcements and special events, be sure to join my mailing list below.

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