By Eric Rose

I had a very strange experience last week. I went into a restaurant for a quick lunch. That in itself is not too strange, but the ongoing interaction with the server was very odd. I didn’t notice it at first, but it started when he asked for my drink order. He acknowledged my choice and said “I will bring it to you and you can drink it.” Shortly thereafter he dropped off my silverware. “Here is your fork and knife so you can eat your food.” He suggested I try the guacamole – “It is the best guacamole in town and you will like eating it.” He came back to refresh my drink and said “I will get you another drink so you can drink it.” I slowly realized that we was announcing every step that he was going to take, including letting me know that he would bring my food to me, that he was bringing my food to me, and that he had just brought my food to me. He continued with his narration of bringing the check, running my debit card and instructing me on how to leave the restaurant by walking “through that door right there.”

Granted, I am seldom mistaken for the smartest guy in the States. This fellow, however, made sure that I was told every step as if I were an idiot. Every cotton pickin’ thing. It got to the point that I was cringing when he began talking. I was waiting for a dissertation on how he chose to inhale before exhaling because it gave him air to exhale. The really amazing thing, though, was that I recognized the familiarity of his speech pattern after a few minutes. It was very familiar. Too familiar. It took a few sentences to remember where I usually hear it. Magicians. Magicians talk like that all the time.

Think about it. How many times have you heard this type of stuff: “Here is a coin. I will put it into my hand and, watch, I open my hand and the coin is gone” or “Here are the four aces. I can turn them over this way or I can turn them over that way. If I give them a twist, the Ace of Diamonds turns over by itself.” All the while, the polite spectator is yelling inwardly, “SHUT UP, Rainman! Just SHUT UP!”

Folks, giving a narration of each step is not patter. Not even close. It’s irritating, not entertaining. In spite of the title of this essay and the yearnings of longsuffering spectators, it’s actually not necessary to shut up. Just stop saying stupid things. Think about what you are saying. Do your words betray your assumption that spectators are blind and dumb? They will notice that. The funny thing is that they will assume you are the stupid one. Why not take the time to stimulate them instead of bore them? Switch from play-by-play reporting to color commentary – it’s a lot more interesting and can be a lot more fun for you, too.

How do you move from your comfortable world of blather to entertainment? Try some of these steps.

1. Script your magic. Take the time to know what you’re going to say. Narration often comes from not knowing what to say next. Don’t be afraid to use silence, either. If the magic is strong, it will carry the moment.

2. Strike certain phrases from your repertoire. You know the ones that set off the warning bell that narration is a-comin’: “Here is…”, “Now I will…”, “This is…”, “Next I…”

3. Feel free to slip into topics that are tangentially related: Start your Elmsley Count and say “Playing cards came into their own in Italy in the 1600s. Until then they were considered …dangerous.” This is a lot more engaging than just saying “Here I have 1,2,3,4 cards.”

4. Tie the general plot of the trick to current events. “It’s hard to remember a time when the Red States and the Blue States were so divided.” (Ooh, that’s a good one – I may have to create a trick on that topic for next month’s Funtyme Newsletter. Stay tuned…)

5. Have the guts to record yourself performing and watch it with a critical eye. Strike anything that sounds like instruction reading.

Granted, there are situations where narration is necessary to instruct or maintain control in the trick. However, it could probably be used less frequently than you invoke it. Take the time to run through a couple of your favorite effects right now. I’m serious – grab a trick or two and do it just like you would for a spectator and then come back to this article. I’ll wait for you. Go. Now.

Welcome back. Did you hear all that play-by-play garbage? Do you really perform for people who can’t deduce that you are folding a dollar bill in half or do you think you really have to tell them that you are “folding it in half, and in half again, and in half again?” If you’ve admitted that narration is your primary performance style, you’ve made a huge step. Now that you are aware of the problem you can start to fix it. Once you fix it you will be seen as a more entertaining magician – and isn’t that your goal?

Well, I am getting off my soapbox now. Thank you for listening to me. You can leave through that door right there.