(Let me say that again…)

It’s important to realize that you message doesn’t always get through. I had dinner with 4 friends to whom I had mailed postcards and only 2 said they received them. What happened to the other 2? Maybe they got lost in the mail, or maybe their spouse threw them away, or maybe they didn’t recognize my face on the front of the postcard and threw it away themselves, or maybe I didn’t have the right address. Quien sabe?

Even people to whom I’ve hand delivered a postcard have said that they’ve misplaced the card and don’t know where to go to get tickets.

All this to say that it pays to repeat.

So one week after I sent out the mailing I sent out an email re-inviting all my friends to come see the show. It’s fast, easy — and compared to the cost of mailing postcards — it’s really inexpensive.

By the way, if you’re reading this before August 27, 2011 there’s still time to catch the show. This show looks like it will be one of my best. You can go to the Boulder International Fringe Festival site to order tickets for Gregg Tobo’s Magic and Prestidigitation Show. (Repetition, remember?)

These days I’m definitely running Alternating Current. Devoting time to marketing/Devoting time to magic.

I’m taking bits of the show out in front of real audience and testing them. I want everything to go wrong that can go wrong, and I want it to happen now instead of in front of a paying audience.

On Saturday, I performed a piece of magic that I’ve now performed 27 times, and something completely novel went wrong. Good. I figured out how to get back on track and salvage the performance, and more importantly I’ve figured out how to ensure that it won’t happen again. You can be a good magician if you never make the same mistake twice.

Meanwhile I’ve also been leaving little stacks of postcards in coffee shops around Boulder. Coffee shops seem to be where people go to learn about event in their community so most shops have a table or bulletin board where you can post (unless it’s a major corporate entity like Starbucks that likes to keep their shops looking uniform).

I’m surprised that I didn’t see more postcards for other Boulder Fringe performers. We’re less than 2 weeks away from opening and I expected to see lots of promo cards. Maybe everyone is late this year, or maybe they’ve decided to bet the bank on that newfangled Social Media.

Either way, I’m fine with that. It leaves the coffee shops wide open for me. (And I’ll be using Social Media too…)

Beyond Avoidance What should you have done this year but didn’t because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: Will you do it?)

What should I have done in 2010?

I should have taken a more aggressive marketing stance this year. I should have put more money into play to generate new business.

But like the poker player whose stash of chips begins to dwindle, my play became more conservative this year. With the economy in a funk, I hunkered down to see if I could do more with less. Sometimes the smart strategy is to avoid the big play to avert the chance of a debilitating loss.

But while I avoided the big loss there was less opportunity for big gains, and I won’t survive on conservative play alone. The good player stays alert for opportunities to turn their fortune around.

If you’re not dealt a good hand, sometimes you have to make things happen. So playing a little looser in 2011 will be part of my strategy.

December 2010 met projections (always a busy month for magicians who work in the corporate market) so there’s money set aside for more marketing in 2011.

[By the way, that's NOT an invitation to call me to advertise in your medium. My market is tightly focused and because there are only a handful of ways to efficiently reach my audience, I already know how I'm spending my marketing dollars. Sorry.]

In some ways, I’m not sure that the conservative play of 2010 was a mistake as I needed time to reorient myself. I needed time to suss out where people were still spending their money and how I could use magic to help them.

But having a better sense of economic landscape means that I need to prepare mentally for a strategic shift in 2011. Avoidance out of habit will not serve me well.

And now for my next trick…I’m going to make the moon disappear.

As I continue my month-long exploration with #Reverb10, the online initiative to inspire you to reflect and manifest. Today’s creative prompt comes from Leonie Allan, author of the “2011 Creating your Goddess Year Workbook, Planner & Calendar.”

Healing. What healed you this year? Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? How would you like to be healed in 2011?

Well this one left me flummoxed.

I couldn’t find a way to approach this one.

I’ve never thought of myself in terms of needing healing. And now that I’ve grappled with this question — given it a thorough mulling — it still feels ill-fitting.

December 18 – Try. What do you want to try next year? Is there something you wanted to try in 2010? What happened when you did/didn’t go for it? (Author: Kaileen Elise)

My intention in 2011 is to improvise more with my magic, to be more playful, to take more chances, to be more mischievous, and to perform more.

This, in a broad sense, is what I want to try in 2011.

I’ve become quite adept at scripting my performances, measuring every word and calculating every pause. But I’d like to add another dimension to my performances that will feature more interaction with my audiences and create shows that are unique and unrepeatable.

I’ve already laid the ground work get more “flight time” (as magician Penn Jillette calls it). More time on stage, getting more experience through live performance, dealing with whatever an unpredictable audience can throw my way. I should be able to log twice as much time in 2011 as I did this year.

Which is good, because I’ve got lots of new material in development that I’m eager to test out.

I want to try to develop my fan base in Denver. My shows do well in Boulder, but I’d like to be able to do a magic show in Denver and sell 500 tickets. It may take more than a year to accomplish this one.

I’d like to try my hand at getting publicity in print, on radio, and on television. I’ve earned some print coverage in the past, but radio and television would be new ventures.

I’d also like to try performing magic via Skype, on Second Life, or other internet media. Technology is changing the way we communicate and I’d like to keep abreast.

Looking back I don’t feel I was particularly daring in 2010. Mostly refining what has worked in the past instead of trying new ventures. So 2011 feels like a good time to stretch, take more risks, and try something different.

Allow for growth. Receive permission to fail. Seek novelty over perfection. Oh, and I want to try playing the musical saw…

Half-way point of a thoroughly enjoyable journey. Blogging throughout the month of December, fueled by the inspiration of #Reverb10, an online initiative to encourage you to reflect and manifest. Today’s prompt comes from Tara Weaver, author of “The Butcher and the Vegetarian.”

Lesson Learned — What was the best thing you learned about yourself this past year? And how will you apply that lesson going forward?

I’ve learned that there are many types of performance magic at which I am skilled, competent, and capable. But there is one category of magic at which I truly excel. One type of performance where (modesty be damned) I approach genius.

What I’ve learned this year is that my audiences respond best when I perform in a theatrical environment. And I have the most fun and am most at ease when I work from the stage.

I can hold my own in other performance venues; I can manage myself quite well — but it’s not my realm of brilliance.

When I settle in to tell a story about the magic, when I share my world view through magic, when the magic supports and illustrates a deeper message, then I’m at my best.

The challenge this year has been grappling with the fact that I cannot do my best work if I follow my peers in magic. There are traditional markets for magicians, but they each reward a different kind of genius. When I work in these traditional markets, I am good — but I’m not great. And although they are viable options for making money, they don’t represent what I do best.

Applying the lesson going forward means that I’ll need to create my own opportunities, to blaze my own path, to look beyond the what other magicians have done and find corollaries from other fields of performance.

Going forward I intend to cultivate markets that allow me to perform on stage where I can work to my strengths. The after-dinner speaking circuit, the college market, fund-raising events, four-wall engagements, storytelling conferences, inspirational speaking opportunites, monologuist venues. And anywhere else that people gather to experience performance from the stage.

(Other lessons learned this year? Oh, yeah. Never to pet a burning dog. And don’t play leap-frog with a unicorn. Thank you, Bob Read!)

Friendship. How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was this change gradual, or a sudden burst?

The story of Bob Brown goes back to the early 1990′s when we both attended the University of Colorado in Boulder. Our paths crossed gently but unremarkably as we shared some classes in the Theatre department. Bob was an English major with a keen interested in playwriting, whilst I was studying acting and directing. But it would not be until after we left school that we would begin to interact.

Itching to do some theatre, I had taken it upon myself to produce and direct, Eugene Ionesco’s “Exit the King,” in Boulder Central Park. Drawing upon my friends from the theatre program (John Babcock, Sierra Billiu, Matt Bodo, Mathew Bottone, Michelle McDonald, and Jenny West), and armed with art supplies from my job at Art Hardware, we created our singular performance.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Mr. Brown was producing his own play. Sadly, the name of the play escapes me at the moment (I’ll come back and edit this post later for completeness sake). The play was written by Bob and also featured actors from CU’s theatre program (Eva Doak, Hugh Fox, Michele Payton).

Having recently survived my own production, I went to see Mr. Brown’s play — curious to see what my former classmates were creating. And in the program notes, Bob mentioned that he was writing another play that would incorporate his interest in stage magic.

I hadn’t been aware of Bob’s interest in magic, nor had he known of my interest. It is rare indeed when two members of an obscure sub-culture should meet, so I called for a meeting.

In addition to our common fascination with magic, we also shared a liking for Eugene Ionesco, Samuel Beckett, Theatre of the Absurd (another remote sub-culture), and an unusual penchant for drama that doesn’t resolve properly.

We would go on to form our own theatre company — the Mystykhande Theatre Company — and over the course of four or five years would produce several works: Sawbox, Ghost Stories, The Chinese Laundry Ticket, Ionesco PowerPoint!, The Ghost of Jakob Drumm, The Sensitive Man, and A Small Slice of Pi. All written by Mr. Brown, all directed by myself, and all — in some way — dealing with the theme of magic.

It has been many years since we’ve worked in this milieu, but I suspect that someday, when we have the time, we’ll find that we still have a few more plays in us.

This reminiscing serves two purposes: 1) Mr. Brown and I have a great number of stories that ought to be captured before our memories fail and the stories are lost, and 2) I hope to establish that our friendship goes back many years and that we share a similar world view that is expressed in our art. (Incidentally, my favorite blog reading can be found at deceptology.com. It is a blog on deception, authored by Mr. Brown.)

So what impact did Mr. Brown have on me this year?

As my director, Mr. Brown has seen me perform more than any other person. When my show runs for six evening, he is at every performance. He takes notes on each show and afterwards we sit down and discuss — for hours — what worked, what didn’t work, how to get more applause, how to get better laughs, how to strengthen the magic, how to better tell a story.

And then one day, about three months ago, Mr. Brown drops this bombshell: The magic that works best for you is magic that’s “evocative.”

And with that single sentence, Mr. Brown identified what it was that I was trying to do with my performance. It brought forth a sudden burst of change in my work as I was able to quickly understand why certain pieces of magic resonated with my audiences and other pieces did not.

It instantly helped me make decisions as to what magic to pursue and what magic to drop. It made it clear which direction I should be taking my business, what venues I should be approaching, and what skills I need to refine.

But it has also initiated a gradual change, as I still struggle to understand precisely what “evocative magic” is. Magic that draws forth an emotion? Magic that emphasizes the WHY of performance instead of the HOW? Magic with a story? Magic with meaning? Magic as metaphor? Magic that is more magical than puzzling?

As a writer, Mr. Brown knows the power of discovering the right word, and how difficult it can be to find that word. But he did it. He found the word that would affect a change in me.

5 Minutes — Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2010.

#1: Listening to step-daughter, E., fiercely defending her opinion, actually taking a stand, expressing her point of view. I was suddenly alert to her transforming into a person of her own. A moment both surprising and glorious.

#2: Walking back with Karen and E. to the hotel after spending an exhausting 14-hour day at Disneyland. Our feet were so tired I was limping; E. had shed her shoes, finding it less painful to walk barefoot. We had endured more fun than most families could handle and we came out alive.

#3: Washing out the paint rollers with Karen after we finished painting our bedroom. We began painting in March and we finished in October. For 8 months we lived with drop cloths on the floor — poor painters and expert procrastinators. But it made our victory all the more triumphant.

#4: Moving my brother-in-law, Ray, out of our house and down to his own apartment in Denver. Jill and Jim helped us unload boxes from the truck and in return, Karen and I were going to help them moves some furniture, but due to a change of plan that was never fully explained to me, they decided not to move their furniture so instead we went to the Denver Diner and had Cokes and French fries.

[This exercise reminds me of a Kore-eda film called "Afterlife," in which, upon dying, you must select one memory from your life to take with you into the afterlife. In the film the characters had more time to deliberate; given the constraint of 5 minutes to capture memories, it's interesting to see the unexpected memories that bubbled to the surface. And also interesting that so many centered on the denouement rather than the crisis or the climax.]

Appreciate. What’s the one thing you have come to appreciate most in the past year? How do you express gratitude for it?

My wife Karen earns the honors as the person I’ve come to appreciate most over the last couple of years.

How do I express my gratitude to her?

Tomorrow her office is having a chili cook off.

She’s down stairs cooking up her best pot of chili as I type.

I’m going to make this entry uncharacteristically short so I can go down and help her cook a dynamite pot of chili and then help clean up the kitchen so she doesn’t have to stay up too late.

It sounds schmaltzy, but it’s true.

Action When it comes to aspirations, it’s not about ideas. It’s about making ideas happen. What’s your next step?

This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body? Did you have a moment where there wasn’t mind and body, but simply a cohesive YOU, alive and present?

Goodness. An integration of mind and body? Tis a consummation, devoutly to be wished.

It is clearly not an event which arises as part of my normal state of affairs. My mind is too large a portion of what I do. Most of the time my mind forges ahead, while my body tags along as an afterthought. I mean, when does my body ascend to the level at which it could even be considered on par with my mind?

The nearest I come to experiencing this sort of thing with any regularity is when I am practicing sleight of hand. And let’s be clear, even though I practice every day, this integration of mind and body is by no means a daily occurrence.

In fact, when I begin to work on a new piece of magic, there is no sense of integration at all. The mind demands, and the body repeatedly fails to deliver. Mind and body are stubbornly at odds during these initial attempts.

Still my body and my mind begin walking the long road to reconciliation, and at some point – when the technique has been mastered and the movements no longer feel foreign — mind and body can take flight as one.

Recently I’ve been working on a classic magic effect, the Linking Rings. It is an excellence discipline for this type of exploration because it is a movement piece and it fully involves the body.

In fact, when I was a great deal younger, I remember my mentor, Mike Shannon, telling me that in order to master the Linking Rings, I needed to “experience the Rings as a dance.”

In my youthful exuberance I took that to mean that I had to give attention to the choreography and to create a series of movements that were aesthetically beautiful. And so I did, and was well served by Mike’s advice to think about the Rings as a dance piece.

Later, however, I came to reinterpret his maxim to mean that I ought to think of the Rings as my partner on stage. The performance of the Rings was a dance between two entities: myself and a set of inanimate objects. I had to learn to work with the objects, to understand their qualities, how they moved and how they responded. The Linking Rings was not about a magician alone on stage, but a magician sharing the stage with a living set of rings that had to be considered as an equal.

And while there was much to be derived from this interpretation, Mike’s words continue to unfold themselves to me.

Today, I interpret what he said to mean that the Linking Rings is more than a solo performance and more than dual entities sharing the stage. I believe he meant that the performance must be a single expression of rings/magician. An experience in which the integration is so complete that you cannot separate out where the rings end and the magician begins. A single flow forming a single experience. Not of a person and a set of objects, but of a unity.

Which brings me about as close as I can get to describing those fleeting moments of integration, because when practice goes well, it indeed feels as though there is no mind and body, but only a living flow.