23 for 23
23 lessons from 23 shows
We just returned from our 12-city tour. Here are 23 lessons from 23 shows:
The splurge is worth it: Your job is to deliver a great show, not to sit in Los Angeles traffic. Next time, I would gladly spend more money and stay closer to the venue.
Find an activity that has nothing to do with performing. For me, I made a point to go on a run in every city. It got me outside, made me explore, helped me stay active, and took my mind off the show. Some people like to visit coffee shops or bookstores—whatever it is, have a goal in each city that’s completely independent of your show.
Up your standards: Last tour, we were at random venues—bookstores, small bars—and Tess and I had to physically move the chairs before many shows. This year, we decided to exclusively play venues where we wouldn’t have to move the chairs. It’s not because we were being divas, necessarily, it’s because we needed to set ourselves up to do a great show. Next tour, I think we’re done sleeping on couches.
Avoid flying in the day-of the show when at all possible. Waking up in the city you’re performing in allows for a much better day.
If you have any way to guarantee yourself a home cooked meal, take it. We were lucky enough to have one in Portland, and it was wonderful.
Stop looking for perfection: Until this tour, I had a false mentality that if I just kept tweaking things, eventually I would have my life together. But the idea of “having your life together” is an illusion. There are always going to be tasks you haven’t completed, emails you haven’t responded to, and tricks you haven’t learned. That’s life. I tried hard to embrace the messiness and accept that what I was doing—a 23-show sold-out tour—was more than enough.
In the book Range, author David Epstein notes that “space between practice sessions creates the hardness that enhances learning.” It’s called Spaced Repetition, and it’s the opposite of cramming. You experience something, let that thing digest, and in that space, you process and learn. In theory, you should be learning a ton on tour, because you’re doing the same show over and over. But the structure of tours, often, makes you cram. Our biggest week was 10 shows in 4 cities in 8 days. It was the absolute maximum of what I could handle. It was also a reminder of why it’s so important, when you can, to schedule off-days. You aren’t doing much learning when you wake up at 5:30, fly to a new city, and do two shows that night. When we tour again, I will be scheduling as many full rest days as possible—it’ll make the shows better because we’ll have more time to process.
You never know what people are going through: I’ve written this a million times, and it’s because it’s the lesson I keep learning. After a show, a woman messaged us. It was the one year anniversary of her father passing away. He had always loved magic and shown her tricks, and tonight was particularly special for her. We do so many of our shows on weeknights—who knows if someone had a rough day at work? Sometimes, audience members who seem jaded are just going through something that we don’t know about. Our job is to deliver the best show possible and be kind to everyone, no matter how they present to us.
No Wi-Fi on planes. Life on the road is frantic enough—it’s nice to have a few hours every couple days with absolutely zero interruptions.
On that note, let yourself watch TV: I feel pressure all the time to be working—reading rather than watching TV. Exercising…rather than watching tv. But I’ve been really trying to remind myself that the job during tour is the show. If I want to watch TV on the plane, or just listen to music and veg out, that’s ok. The number one priority is delivering the show that over 1,000 people are dedicating their time and money to see. I binged White Lotus and, like everyone else, finished Severance. It was lovely.
Most car accidents happen within 5 miles of home, because people stop paying attention. Complacency happens when you get too comfortable. For me, it came during both shows in Seattle, when I forgot to set a few simple props in the right place. The audience didn’t notice and I was able to get out of the situations. But it was a good reminder that mistakes happen when you get too confident. Just when you’re feeling great (mid-way through the tour, in this case), that’s when your guard needs to be up. So many of my best performances were when I doubted myself just a bit because it kept me on my toes.
The way things change: I remember learning that a friend made $3,000 from a summer job in high school, an amount that seemed legitimately unfathomable. Then, on a single Tuesday during tour, we sold $9,500 worth of tickets. To be clear—that $9500 was across multiple cities and before a single expense. But after years of struggling and comping friends, it was pretty cool to see such a large number in a single day. You’ve gotta appreciate your wins.
I’m a big runner, but I‘d never heard art described as a Zone 2 effort until I read this article. What an absoulutely perfect description. Zone 2 is essentially the fastest you can go (running, swimming, biking, etc) without going into anaerobic respiration. Essentially—how fast can your heart pump while still allowing you to run for a long time? That’s art! The steady drum beat of progress that, while not easy, isn’t overly taxing either. There’s times, of course, to go into Zones 3-5. Memorizing names, for me, is a Zone 4 or 5 effort. It’s exhausting. But even the act of meeting people is still Zone 2. It has to be, otherwise I’ll go too fast and forget. It’s slow, methodical, and steady. Sprints are addicting but they’re unsustainable. Stay in Zone 2 for as long as you can.
Show up on time, respect the venue staff, and learn their names. I’m not saying to do a memory stunt. I’m saying to learn the names of 3-5 people. This is entirely doable. They will know your name. It is your job to learn theirs. It’s basic respect. And they quite literally have the power to turn the lights out on you at any time.
I’ve written about this before—the hand-written thank you note for the venue staff is incredibly easy and a must-do. It will set you apart from 99% of performers, and it has nothing to do with your performance. In Boston, the venue manager told us that she still had our thank you note from almost a year ago. She thanked us for the thank you note.
Remind yourself before every show that each person in your audience has dedicated valuable time and money to watch you perform. This is why you never mail it in. They have been actively looking forward to this show, it is your job, as the performer, to deliver and exceed their expectations.
Love them: It was the Chicago early show. I memorized names and got weird vibes from a lot of the room. I sat in the corner while Tess was on stage and told myself, over and over, “Love them” (Of course an homage to Howard Thurston). The show wasn’t flawless, but it unquestionably went well. You can win people over, and no one in the audience wants a bad show. I think of it like an in-game adjustment in sports. You can shift your mentality and change the result.
Airline status and credit cards are legitimately beneficial if you’re traveling to 12 cities and 10 airports in a single month. Airline-specific credit cards that allow you to maximize points, boarding groups, and *free checked bags* are essential. We saved $1000+ in baggage fees by using airline status.
Enjoy your food: We took a pretty decent portion of our budget and dedicated it to meals. One of the joys of traveling is enjoying restaurants in each city. An extra $20-$30 for a nicer dinner is nearly always worth it.
Appreciate your rituals: I chose to do a trick that required me to purchase poster board in every city, and draw lines on it for 30 minutes to an hour before each set of shows. It was annoying, but I also had to remember to just enjoy the ritual. Yes, it added some stress because I had to coordinate going to the store, buying the board, and drawing the lines, often with very little time to spare. But the trick tied the show together and it was entirely worth it. There will always be little rituals. And while a dedicated stage manager might one day take them over, it’s a joy to take care of your own props. It’s one of those tasks that can never be optimized. I did it as fast as I could go. Like doing the laundry or washing the dishes, it was just a thing you had to do. So you might as well enjoy it.
It is intensely satisfying to do work where you play a central role in determining the outcome. It’s not lost on me that if I, for any reason, chose not to show up to a certain set of shows, I’d be negatively impacting the plans of 200 people. Yes, that’s pressure, but it’s the good kind. I can physically see and meet the people I am impacting. That is the definition of satisfying work.
Same as it ever was: You get back from tour, and everything is the same. You’re just…back. Your friends were ok without you. The city went on without you. I think people are afraid to take time off because of all the things they think they’ll miss. But the truth is, it’s you who will miss out on the experience.
It’s not an escape: People often say that going to a show is an “escape” from life. I think it’s exactly the opposite. Going to a show, experiencing your collective humanity, is the purest form of being alive. Going to work, when our autonomy is sucked out of us to maximize corporate profit—that’s the escape. Shows are where you sink deep into the richness of what it means to be human.
If you saw us on tour—thank you for coming. It was the honor of a lifetime.
See you soon,
Max
Well said and congratulations on the tour. So proud!!