The Misfire Principle

This is a technique for giving an Imp a little more narrative weight and your presentation a little more depth.

As an example, let’s take the laziest possible Imp: snapping your fingers.

“I put a coin in this box, close it, snap my fingers, and…” You open the box. The coin is still there.

“Huh…”

You close the box and snap again. You open it, and the coin remains.

“What the… Hold on.”

You leave the room and return with a page of instructions. You quickly read them under your breath.

“Okay, it looks like you’re supposed to use your nondominant hand to snap. Whatever.”

You close the box, snap with your left hand, and open it. The coin is gone.

“That’s fucking stupid. Why does that make a difference,” you say with annoyance.

You can see that even with a bad Imp—and without putting much thought into it—this adds a more interesting dimension to the effect.

This is a Charismatic Magic technique. The snap—which would typically be a meaningless gesture—now has some resonance. It pulls the effect further into the real world, where entering one wrong digit, using the wrong ingredient, or skipping a step can be the difference between something working and not working. If the snap were just a theatrical flourish—if it were simply a trick box that vanished any coin placed inside—then what was all that business with the instructions and the nondominant hand? Why would you bother going through it if your only goal were to fool them or present yourself as someone with magical powers?

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A year ago, Jake G. wrote me this:

Hi Andy, wanted to share a quick dim thought inspired by your writings. Keeping it brief, you get together with your friend to perform a test where something has to happen at a certain time on a certain day, you try the test and it doesn't work. You get upset and go pick up your dusty old book to "research" and realize you had the time zone wrong. Reinvigorated, you try again in an hour at the "right" time and the trick works.

This is another good example of The Misfire Principle, which I’m sure is already clear to you.

The Misfire Principle: Allowing an Imp to fail under the wrong circumstances before demonstrating that it works under the right ones.

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Here are some more examples.

Wrong component

• You attempt an experiment using your friend’s house key, but nothing happens. You check your notes and realize it needs to be the key they use most often—which turns out to be their car key.

• You try to make something in a photograph change, only to discover that the process works with original instant photographs, not digital prints.

Missing component

• The incantation doesn’t work until you figure out the last line got cut off. When the full incantation is repeated, it now works.

• A pendulum refuses to respond until you discover that the participant first needs to sign their name on the surface beneath it, establishing a connection between them.

Wrong condition

• You attempt to reveal a thought while the participant concentrates intensely on it. The instructions actually say the thought must be “released,” so you have them distract themselves and try again.

• An attempt to contact the former owner of an object produces nothing. Then you realize that a phone sitting nearby is supposedly interfering with the process, so you remove it from the room.

Wrong interpretation

• You thought “turn the card” meant turn it faceup, but the illustration reveals that it means rotate it 180 degrees.

• A mistranslated word you took to mean “conceal” actually means “bury.”

Wrong execution

• You wrap a length of thread clockwise around an object and nothing happens. Looking more closely at the diagram, you realize it needs to be wrapped counterclockwise.

• Your friend says the required word after blowing out a match. The instructions actually require them to say it while the flame is still burning.

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What’s the benefit of this? Well, at first, you treat the Imp casually, and it fails. You discover your mistake, correct it, and make the second attempt with greater care. When the magic works, it seems to teach you that the Imp demands to be taken seriously. And as you begin treating it that way, your friend is subtly encouraged to do the same. You never ask them to believe in the Imp. Instead, they watch as you become more invested in the premise—and, almost without noticing, become more invested themselves.

Z-Fold Couch

For years, when performing at home, I've used my couch to switch things. For example, shoving a deck between the cushions and removing another from behind a pillow.

It's not very sophisticated, but it works, and it makes sense for me since I'm frequently performing on the couch when I'm showing someone something at home.

Recently I've perfected the technique, which may sound ridiculous given that it's such an unrefined thing, but here's the method I use that makes the switch easier and smoother.

To make it work, you need a couch with two pillows on each side. If you're a fancy lad, like me, you're already good to go.

That blue triangle is where you’ll ditch the original item. It’s essentially a servant. The item to be switched in is between the pillows where the yellow area is pointed.. Let's say it's a stacked deck of cards.

Here’s the way to do it if you want the most cover.

You and your friend are sitting on opposite sides of the couch. (Let's say you're on the right side facing out.) You have her shuffle the deck. You take it back and continue to shuffle.

Now you are going to look for something on your end table—a Sharpie or the card case or whatever makes sense with the trick. This will bring your right hand near the “servant” area. Not seeing what you need, you'll ask if it's on her end table. As she grabs it, you will drop your deck behind the pillow closest to the couch, then flip forward the inner pillow and grab the deck to be switched in.

This is a much cleaner technique because the objects are separated the whole time. Switching can be tricky if you're trying to hide one object and extract another from the same location (similar to the way it's more difficult to switch one deck for another in the same pocket). Here you're dropping off one object and removing the other from the same general area, but the pillows act as "flaps" which keep everything separate.

You can do the same switch as you lean forward to grab something off the coffee table with your left hand.

What we're trying to avoid is any tell-tale weird action with your right arm. This is why I wanted to get away from stuffing things into the cushions, which requires you to sort of straighten/stiffen your arm to press it down. This is the sort of thing the audience can notice even in their periphery. It's similar to when you're trying to secretly put something in your pocket—even if they're not looking at your hand, they can still register the movement.

Dropping off the first item behind the pillow is essentially invisible. And picking up the other object can be done without looking or fiddling with anything.

[If you don't have two pillows, because you're a savage, you can have the object to be switched in behind one pillow. Then when you sit down, subtly remove it so it's now between the pillow and your leg. Once again, to effect the switch, you'll drop one object behind the pillow and then pick the other one up from next to your leg.]

[[f you have the last issue of Keepers, this is the switch I mentioned for the trick on page 19]

A Quick-Force Tweak

[This post is an example of the concept of Fencing, which I wrote about last year.]

I tend to like card forces that take some time, involve a few different steps, and allow the spectator to make multiple free choices along the way. I call this Slow Forcing.

But that doesn’t work in many tricks where the selection isn’t the primary focus. It would just seem like a weird interruption of the effect.

It makes sense to spend 15 minutes picking out the best spatula if you’re buying one as a gift for a friend. It doesn’t make sense to spend 15 minutes picking out the best spatula if you’re in the middle of making pancakes.

Similarly, if the selection and reveal are the whole trick, a Slow Force is the strongest option. But if the selection is just one step in a larger trick, you want to get a “random” card into play quickly.

Here’s a technique I’ve been using for months in those situations that’s very effective. I get the sense that it feels more fair to the spectator. And it definitely feels more natural to me—as opposed to immediately presenting them with a less-than-free choice.

Here’s how it works. Any time I need to quickly force a card, I say, “Okay, now I’m going to take a card at random. It doesn’t really matter.” I spread through the cards a bit. “Actually, why don’t you say stop as I flip through?” Or I hand them the deck: “Actually, why don’t you just cut the cards for me.” Or I spread the deck and say, “Actually, why don’t you touch the back of one?”

Almost anything seems more fair than me taking out a card “at random.” So any option you give them—“Actually, why don’t you name a card between, say, 10 and 20?”—now feels like a step up in fairness from what they thought they were going to get.

This gives the moment a feeling of loosening restrictions. Their freedom isn’t being judged against a completely free selection. It’s being judged against what they thought was about to happen: me taking out a card myself. You’re not giving them a free choice. You’re giving them a freer choice than the one they thought they were getting.

Mailbag #182

What are your thoughts on the Nameseek app? Specifically the point brought up in this Cafe thread that says people are going to be suspicious of going to a website to look up a name, especially the younger generation because these days they look up everything via AI/ChatGPT. Fair point in your opinion?—AT

Generally, I don’t have any thoughts on the app as I haven’t used it. The creator once asked me to take a look at it, but when I said I didn’t do reviews on the site, that was kind of the end of the discussion. So I can’t tell you one way or another if the site itself looks or feels legitimate.

As for the contention that the younger generation doesn’t look things up on website, I get where that’s coming from, but it honestly sounds like an old person’s understanding of young people, gleaned entirely from Facebook posts shared by other old people: “They don’t look stuff up on websites. They can’t type; they can only communicate in emojis. All their dances come from Fortnite. And apparently, they’ve stopped having sex altogether!”

If anything, the younger people I know are a little more suspicious of AI than the older generation—at least the portion of the older generation that have adopted the technology and treat it like an infallible electronic grandson.

Regardless, this particular concern is easy enough to sidestep. First, don’t say, “Let’s look up the meaning of a name. Go to this website.”

Say, “Go to this website.” Then say, “We’re going to look up the meaning of a name.”

This gets them onto the site before the subject of name meanings comes up. Now it doesn’t make sense for them to leave the site and go to ChatGPT or something similar.

This is related to another piece of advice I’ve given in the past. Don’t say, “I’m going to read your mind. Write down a word.” That’s introducing those ideas in the wrong order. It gives them a chance to say, “Wait, why do I have to write down the word if you’re going to read my mind?” Instead, say, “Write down any word.” Only then do you introduce the idea that they’re going to “just think” of the word they wrote down and you’ll read their mind.

In both cases, you get them to take the action first and explain its significance second. That way, the explanation doesn’t give them an opportunity to question the action.

The other thing you have on your side—regarding why a website makes sense for this information—is that we’re not looking up the capitals of the world, where there’s one objectively correct answer and it shouldn’t matter where you get it. Name meanings are interpretive. Different sources give different answers. So choosing one particular source to work from makes perfect sense.

If you feel you need to justify it, you can say, “Do you know what your name means? The problem is, a lot of names have multiple meanings, and if you look them up online, you’ll get half a dozen different answers depending on where you go. I like this site. It seems to have the most thorough and up-to-date information, so this is the one I use.”

So if you were genuinely testing your ability to pick up on this information, you probably wouldn’t use ChatGPT. You’d want everyone working from the same supposedly reliable source. The website isn’t something you need to apologize for—it’s probably the more logical procedure.

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Okay, I love your magic style, the thinking behind it, and the tricks in your books. But I think the part that actually amazes me the most is your work ethic. Ten years of posts, newsletters, and books always on schedule? That’s rare anywhere and basically unheard of in magic. How do you actually stick to that schedule? Do you have any tips for someone hoping to start a similar project?—NG

Eleven years, actually. Don’t undersell my accomplishment.

Have you ever heard the song Bug Like an Angel by Mitski? Incredible song and an even better music video.

It’s a song about alcoholism, and it has this lyric:

Did you go and make promises you can't keep?
Well, when ya break them, they break you right back

While I don’t have any addiction issues, I can still relate to this sentiment.

We tend to think that breaking a promise means screwing someone else over so we can do what we really want. But if the promise was sincere, the greater damage is to yourself. Every time you break one, you make it a little harder to believe yourself the next time you say, “I’m going to do this.”

I didn’t promise you I would write 180 posts a year, a couple hundred pages of newsletters, and a book every 18 months. I promised myself that. I adore myself. I’m delightful. I don’t want to fuck that guy over, so I keep the promise.

You can’t rely on the universe or other people to always give you what you need. But you should be able to rely on yourself or else you’re just adrift.

The catch is that you can’t promise yourself everything. They need to be rationed. If everything is a promise, then nothing is. You’ve just turned “I promise” into a more dramatic way of saying, “I’d like to.”

So you choose a few areas—your work, your relationships, your health—and make a small number of serious promises about them. Keeping those promises becomes a priority. In other areas, you make an honest effort but without demanding perfection.

I know you want a better answer. Some clever scheduling or productivity advice or something. But none of that really matters. You get the things done that you don’t give yourself an option not to get done. If the project you’re considering is important enough to you, you’ll make that commitment. If not, you’ll probably start it with the best of intentions and then eventually abandon it because staying on top of something like that is hard as hell.

Dustings #151

The testing in yesterday’s post raises the question: How much does using a phone in the set-up for a trick affect the reactions? In other words, both versions have the same physical reveal, but one has a physical set-up and the other has a digital one. For example, in one version, they select an item at their chosen number from a note on your phone. In the other, they select an item at their chosen number from a page in a physical notebook. Will the digital version have the same detrimental effect?

Probably not to the same degree. I think that when you have a physical reveal versus a digital reveal, you’re comparing something that feels innocent with something that seems questionable. But with a physical set-up versus a digital set-up, both are going to seem somewhat suspicious. That’s just the nature of setting up a magic trick. So I think using a phone will have less of an impact there. Although perhaps we’ll test it officially at some point in the future.

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Here’s a little magic-advertising trick for you.

Let’s say you’re releasing a packet trick. It’s just a simple packet trick. What could you possibly say about a simple packet trick?

That’s right: “Much more than a simple packet trick.”

This works with anything.

It’s just another version of the 21 Card Trick?

“Much more than just another version of the 21 Card Trick.”

It’s just a Hot Rod?

“Much more than a Hot Rod.”

The beauty of this phrase is that it acknowledges the exact objection people will have when they see the trick, then gives the impression of answering it without actually saying anything at all.

Congratulations. You’re now a magic copywriter.

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Customer support at Vanishing Inc. responding with a Zen koan designed to free magicians from their attachment to owning things.

”This download can’t be downloaded.” Please meditate upon this until you no longer desire the instructions.

The Physical Advantage

In Toronto this past spring, we did some focus-group testing on the impact of a digital prediction versus a physical prediction. We’ve looked at this before, but we wanted to do some additional testing because this feels like one of those areas where the data will always be in flux. Our relationship with technology—and the technology itself—is constantly evolving. Here’s what we looked at:

1. Creepy Child Variation of Directed Verdict with a paper reveal.

2. Creepy Child Variation of Directed Verdict with an Instagram reveal.

3. Lottery Prediction with a physical paper reveal.

4. Lottery Prediction with a photo reveal on the magician’s camera roll.

5. Lottery Prediction with a photo emailed to the participant before the effect.

Twenty-five individuals saw each of the first two effects. Twenty individuals saw each of the final three. There was no overlap between any of these groups. In total, 110 individuals saw one of these effects, among other things we tested.

For the Creepy Child effect, the participants shuffled and cut the deck. The card they cut to matched either a folded paper prediction or an old Instagram post featuring a drawing—both supposedly created by some creepy kid the magician knows.

For the Lottery effect, the participants freely named numbers. Those numbers were either printed on a physical lottery ticket in the magician’s wallet, shown in a picture of a lottery ticket on the magician’s camera roll, or shown in a picture of a lottery ticket sent to the participant as an email attachment before the trick began.

We asked the participants to rate each effect on only one metric: how impossible it felt.

Results

For the Creepy Child effect

The digital version scored a 7.0.
The physical version scored an 8.4.

For the Lottery effect

The camera-roll version scored a 7.3.
The email-attachment version scored an 8.2.
The physical-ticket version scored a 9.1.

Takeaways

It may seem like there’s only a point or two separating these variations, but that point or two actually represents a very significant difference.

Having done this testing for over a decade now, we know that unless we spend a significant amount of time explaining how to rank the effects on a scale from 0 to 10, any effect that fools someone will receive at least a 5.5 or 6—even the most basic one-in-four multiple-out effect. At the high end, people are hesitant to call anything a perfect trick—at least when they feel like they’re trying to provide an accurate rating for data purposes—so most people won’t go beyond a 9.5, even when they genuinely have no idea how something was done. In practice, then, the scale runs from about 5.8 to 9.5.

That gives us a meaningful range of only 3.7 points. Viewed within that range, the 1.4-point advantage of the physical Creepy Child prediction over the digital version represents nearly 40% of the entire usable scale. With the Lottery Prediction, the 1.8-point gap between the camera-roll reveal and the physical ticket represents nearly half of that scale. Put another way, on the portion of the ten-point scale that people actually use, the physical reveals had more than twice the impact of the basic digital reveals. What looks like a difference of only a point or two is actually a massive gulf.

All else being equal, you should always be trying to pull your reveal into the real world because the potential gains are enormous.

Of course, all else is never really equal. Here, we were able to perform identical versions of the tricks regardless of whether the reveal was digital or physical. But that usually won’t be possible. We could only accomplish such a clean physical Lottery Prediction because we had a hidden printer and a secret assistant. That’s hardly an apples-to-apples comparison with a photo prediction you can perform impromptu with nothing but your phone.

There are Lottery Predictions you can perform more casually that still have a physical reveal, but the number-selection procedure isn’t as free. So then the question becomes, “Is it worth sacrificing the freedom of the number selection for a physical reveal?”

Before this testing, I think I would have said, “Go with the free selections and the digital reveal.” But after seeing how much greater the impact was with the physical ticket, the choice no longer seems nearly as obvious. I’m now far more willing to sacrifice some freedom—or accept a more convoluted selection procedure—to get that prediction into their hands.

Follow the Leader Final Beat

Here’s an ending for Follow the Leader-style effects. I’ve always been intrigued by the effect and have enjoyed practicing it, but in performance, I think the reactions are rather weak.

Here’s Juan Tamariz performing it.

I would describe the trick as repetitive, confusing, anticlimactic, and entirely magician-centric.

It’s repetitive because it’s essentially the same thing happening every time. It’s confusing because the spectator has to keep track of which face-down packet is where. It’s anticlimactic because there’s no real ending. And it’s magician-centric because the audience has no influence over anything that happens.

Here’s a simple ending you can add to the routine that helps address these issues.

You do the routine as you normally would, and the audience will react to it as they normally would—i.e., “This is kind of interesting, but surely the magician is secretly moving those packets around somehow. I don’t know…I’m not following it 100%.”

That’s fine. In this version, those early phases aren’t being asked to carry the entire trick. They’re building toward a climax—one that’s narratively consistent with the traditional Follow the Leader effect but places the outcome in the spectator’s hands.

To accomplish this, you’ll need a card like this:

You’ll also use Paul Harris’s Pointer Anomaly principle (explained here).

After the main body of the trick is completed, you explain, “Now, you’re going to say, ‘Oh, I don’t know exactly what he was doing, but I’m sure he was secretly moving the cards around somehow.’ I swear, that’s not how it’s done. In fact, I won’t even touch the cards during this final round.”

You introduce the red-and-black arrow card. You allow them to spin it between the piles and turn it over in either direction. No matter what, it will end up pointing to the correct piles.

To make the arrow card, put the image on a blank-faced card. From the back of the card, you’ll need to mark the opposite end from the point of the red arrow. That’s the end you want facing the red pile when the card is face down.

Allow the person to rotate the face-down arrow card between the piles, stopping whenever they want, with the card lying horizontally between them.

If your mark is near the red pile: Give them the choice of turning the card over from right to left or left to right. Imply that this is the final, most important choice.

If your mark is near the black pile: Say, “And now, so it’s a totally blind choice on your part, I’ll swap the piles a few times so you don’t know which is which.” Put the piles under the table or behind your back and exchange them once, although you pretend you’re doing it multiple times. Bring them back out, making sure to set the red pile on the appropriate side of the arrow card. “Now for the choice that will make all the difference: Turn that card over to the left or to the right.”

Ultimately, of course, it’s just a 50/50 hit. But the important thing is that it no longer feels like they can write the whole thing off as sleight of hand. The spectator positions the arrow, chooses how to turn it over, and apparently determines everything that happens. Yet the red arrow still points to the red pile, and the black arrow still points to the black pile. The trick finally ends with one clear image that was seemingly out of your control

My favorite version of Follow the Leader—although I’m no expert—is Peer Pressure, which can be found in this Liam Montier book. It’s very simple and straightforward for both the performer and the spectator to follow.