Are you actually magic?

Indeed, becoming good at anything is a bit of a magic trick when viewed the right way — even if it’s not always intentional.

“Are you actually magic?” — some random kid in my daughter’s kindergarten class

The first rule in magic is to never tell anyone how a trick is done. The second is to be good enough at the trick the audience can’t figure it out on their own.

If you’re David Copperfield trying to wow an auditorium filled to capacity on the Las Vegas Strip, this is certainly a tall order. After all, most people in the audience will be actively trying to “figure out” each one of your illusions before you’ve even started.

If, on the other hand, you’re only trying to impress your five-year-old daughter with a simple coin vanish, the bar’s not quite as high.

Lucky for me, I only need to impress the kid. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned as a dad these last several years, it is that young children are rather gullible easily impressed. (If only the rest of the world were so duly entertained by the little things in life.)

And so, summoning every ounce of confidence in the limited sleight of hand I remember from my magic-obsessed youth, I recently grabbed a few coins and began making them “vanish” into thin air for her amusement.

To a kindergartner, this is sorcery of the highest level.

Now, to be perfectly clear: I never set out to be a charlatan and convince my own child I was engaged in the black art of summoning actual magic powers to help me achieve these illusions. However, my explanation of what was happening must have fallen short judging by a recent trip I made to her classroom where one of her classmates asked me the best question anyone has ever asked me in my life:

“Are you actually magic?”

Apparently, word gets around in the younger grades. Despite my attempt to explain that what I was doing wasn’t actually magic, children are apparently pretty hazy regarding the nuanced difference between parlor tricks and genuine wizardry. It seems quite likely the kiddos still aren’t completely convinced I’m not casting spells to help me accomplish my little coin vanishes.

Of course, that’s somewhat the point of magic — even for adults.

When impressive acts of “magic” are carried out by people of reasonable competence, it should so defy explanation that even reasonable, rational, adults are prone to ascribed some sort of mystical explanation to it. (At least for a moment.)

It occurred to me, while thinking about this, that creativity often has a similar effect upon people. So perplexed are some when they encounter original, creative or innovative ideas, they can’t even begin to comprehend how a mere mortal might have conceived of it without the aid of divine intervention.

As a result, intentional or not, those who engage in creative work are quite rightly illusionists in their own right. As Bill Roorbach explained in his book Writing Life Stories:

Good writing is, among many other things, an illusion. The primary illusion is of ease. We read a beautifully constructed book with pleasure and admiration, forgetting that the writer had to sit down day after day for a year or two years or more (often many more) to do the job. We forget—because it’s the writer’s job to make us forget—all the drafting, all the false starts, all the seamlessly incorporated suggestions and corrections of editors and other readers, all the self-doubt, all the projects started and never finished, all the manuscripts in drawers, all the learning, all the patience, all the writerly reading, all the study, all the practice: the apprenticeship.

Indeed, becoming good at anything is a bit of a magic trick when viewed in this light — even if it’s not always as deliberately “magical” as picking someone’s card out of a shuffled deck.

After all, just just like magicians using sleight of hand, the bulk of what it takes to succeed at something occurs well out of sight. The entrepreneur spending days scrounging up clients, the mindless hours a writer spends glaring at a blank screen, the years of practice a musician spends honing his skills… These are things that happen in the privacy of their own homes, minds and souls — they’re not broadcast to to the rest of us.

All the audience usually sees is the “big reveal” when success occurs: The business that’s expanding, the novel that’s just been added to the bestseller list, or the musician who can “pick up any instrument” and top the charts on Spotify.

Even for those of us who routinely labor through the creative process, it’s easy to forget just how much one has to bleed for their accomplishments. As I’ve written before, the struggle, toil and even failure of the creative process is an enduring part of what makes it so challenging in the first place:

One of the greatest pieces of writing advice I’ve ever received — indeed, something I share with my clients when coaching them on their writing skills — is that you must “give yourself permission to write badly.”

…

After all, the journey from a blank page to a well-written essay isn’t instantaneous. It begins with poorly constructed sentences, unarticulated ideas, and an incomplete thesis. But getting words on paper — getting something on the page to begin molding into something comprehensible — is the necessary first step in generating something actually worth reading.

And the same is true for any creative endeavor. Those first few dabs of paint aren’t going to look like water lilies — nor will the first couple notes sound like Beethoven.

In the early stages of crafting something new, innovative or unique, we must first begin with a “draft” that falls so short of what we hope to create, we would find it intolerably embarrassing if it were ever presented to the world without explanation or excuse.

In other words, creativity requires an understanding that it is a process, not merely a result. It’s a journey from idea to execution that requires a willingness to experiment — and much of the time, that experimentation will feel indistinguishable from failure...

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Considering the struggle, risk and frustration required to “create,” those who soldier through such a process should absolutely be considered magicians. After all, there’s a reason the vast majority of people never start a business, write a novel, or master some personal creative challenge in their life — the journey simply looks too arduous to endure.

However, not every magic trick needs to be fit for David Copperfield’s stage, nor does every creative undertaking need to be the full construction of a masterpiece. Even little acts of creativity can turn anyone into an illusionist over time. Progress (like creativity) is cumulative — the more one works at it, the more they succeed.

In other words, merely the act of beginning a creative endeavor is, in and of itself, an act of alchemy. Sketching out a business plan, writing the first paragraph of an 80,000 word novel, or learning the first set of chords on a bass guitar aren’t massive accomplishments in their own right, but they’re nonetheless transformative examples of creating magic through the creative process.

Sure, a random five-year-old in a kindergarten class might be the only one brave enough to ask if it’s actual sorcery, but I think that still counts as a reason to be proud.

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Michael Schaus is the founder of Schaus Creative LLC — a creative studio dedicated to helping organizations, businesses and activists tell their story and motivate change. Learn more by visiting SchausCreative.com.

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