When Did You Realize It Doesn't Matter?

Hey, howdy, hello. Ryan here to tell a story about my poor judgement.

I'm Your Dingle-berry

It was "Packet Trick" theme night for my usual Wednesday night Zoom magic meeting last week. I have a terrible memory for packet tricks. I learn a new one, and the previous trick seems to exit my brain. On that night, the current pinnacle of my packet podium was still "Paul's Bread and Butter Trick" (see my YouTube performance) and most of this crowd had already tasted that spread.

Lacking a new audience, I required a new trick. I flipped open Paul Hallas' other book, one I had not yet cracked, looking for something to catch my fancy in the moment. In the back he included a list of his favourite strolling tricks, sorted by openers and closers. Under closers he listed "Too Many Cards" found in The Complete Works of Derek Dingle (1982) Yet another new-to-me book I've been meaning to explore!

That one fit the bill. It's a packet trick, requiring no special cards, and no moves beyond my reach. I spent the next hour learning the new trick... and pretty well missed the meeting going on in the background. I figured I better at least document my effort before it, too, slipped my mind. You can see my performance on YouTube.

You can also watch a performance by Derek Dingle himself. There's really not much difference. I'm not doing anything original with it.

And now to the point of my story...

I learned this new trick, which is essentially an Elevator Card effect. Card goes into the packet, and appears back on top. Same trick four times, with a little diversion in the middle to wake people up.

As I became comfortable with the sequence, and the effect took shape in my hands, I came to decide this was... a dumb trick. Just some visual nonsense without any dramatic tension. "The adventures of props in the magician's hands" as Eugene Burger would say. It seemed like magic for magicians more than the general public.

I posted the video online anyway because, well, [deep sigh] the machine demands "content"... and I received a few comments from trustworthy people who led me to rethink my harsh judgement. One friend, Chuck, who has seen a lot of magic in his life, said it was one of his favourite card tricks which sticks in his memory from when his son was actively magishing. Okaaaaaay... so, maybe there's more to this one than I first thought.

I put it to the public jury...

I decided a proper test was warranted so I slipped it into my close-up show on Saturday night. I was doing thirty minutes of confidently strong magic, and I was willing to risk a lull in the middle. The paying audience should be the final arbiter in all such matters.

I gave it my best shot. It got laughs, it garnered genuine applause! It was fiiiiiine. I still don't think it's a great trick, and definitely not a "closer", but it certainly hit better than I originally guessed. I admit I was wrong on that.

My mind turned back to some words from Paul Daniels which have been echoing around my thoughts lately...

The Simple Question Contains Great Wisdom

In December I was reading Working With Genius (2007), a transcription of David Hemingway's lecture, in which he passes on the lessons learned from working with and around many top pros in magic, and show business, in his career.

He recounts sitting in the dressing room when Paul Daniels, who surely needs no introduction, asks Geoffrey Dunham, also a very well-recognized 90s TV magician in England, a question. A rhetorical question shared between two "old pros" who have been on the top of the game for some time;

“How long had you been in this business before you realized that it didn’t make any difference what tricks you did?”

It's a sentiment I've heard expressed before, but for whatever reason it hit me like a stack of blocks in this moment. I put down the book for the day to let that question resonate.

When did you realize it doesn't make any difference what tricks you do?

Heck, I've realized this before... I've written about this before. But I forget. I forget because I keep falling for the tyranny of the new. I forget because I lose faith in myself, and see other performers as being and doing so much better. I forget because my own weaknesses haunt me, and I think there's some external solution, a trick, that will patch up the hole so nobody can see.

Then sometimes I'm reminded. I'm reminded when I throw a silly little packet trick into my show and it goes over well. I'm reminded when I watch curmudgeonly ol' Mark Lewis win hearts with tricks straight out of Royal Road. I'm reminded when David Williamson gets flown around the world to appear with his spring raccoon.

It doesn't make any difference what tricks you do.

It makes alllllll the difference when you put yourself into them.

When you express, with all your energy and all your commitment, that this (whatever this is) is worth watching.

Like Jonathan Burns and his cheese trick, sometimes the unapologetic commitment to the dumbest possible trick becomes the bit.

On Saturday night I thought "Too Many Cards" was the worst trick in my show... but I didn't let the audience know that. No, I performed it to the best of my ability and, turns out, they decided to enjoy it.

It didn't seem to make any difference to them.

-Ryan