I recently filmed a behind-the-scenes video for the clients and prospects of my virtual magic experience.

It was supposed to be a light and fun peek behind the curtain at the cool tech and considerations that go into the seamless virtual event their attendees get to experience. I believe the resulting video did just that.

But the process of making that video bummed me out.

As I was editing down an hour’s worth of footage into a fast-paced 15-min video, I couldn’t help but mentally add up the cost of all the gear I’m currently using to produce the virtual magic show.

From a spec-ed out computer with a large screen to a hybrid desk mixing console, to a broadcast camera switching unit, to a handful of pro-grade cameras and lenses, to pro-grade microphones, to an acoustically treated home studio, to multiple lights, to smart tech, to in-ear monitors, to live streaming software…

The total cost is somewhere around $7500.

And that’s just the monetary cost. I also studied audio engineering in college and previously invested five years learning the art of video production and lighting in order to run my multiple YouTube channels, through which I’ve made 500 videos and amassed nearly 20,000 followers.

That’s hundreds of hours of trial and error and steep learning curves already in the bank.

I’m not saying any of this to impress you. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

When the live event industry collapsed in March 2020 I was forced to reinvent my career for a fully virtually world. It was really hard. There were a lot of days I didn’t think I’d make it, and I worried how I’d be able to support my family moving forward. Some days I genuinely thought my 16-year career as a sole-proprietor was over and I’d be packing boxes for Amazon by the summer.

Instead, I’m busier than ever. I can barely handle the influx of work!

It would be really easy to turn that story into an inspirational message about never giving up, fighting for what you believe in, pivoting and adapting, and pursuing one’s passion at all costs. And indeed I wrote blogs and made videos along those lines earlier this year.

It may have been some of those things. But mostly, it was luck.

Luck is…

There are many ways to define luck. Chance, randomness, “when preparation meets opportunity,” etc. Less talked about are timing and privilege. 

From 2015-2019 I had a road assistant. Nevin was a college student and aspiring professional magician. He was truly passionate about pursuing magic as a career and I took him under my wing. He intermittently toured with me, carried gear, and filmed my shows. 

In exchange I taught him everything I knew about being self-employed and the world of professional magic. I gave him a real-world masterclass on building relationships with prospects and turning them into clients, marketing and branding, and how to undersell and overdeliver. He took it seriously and during his final semester, just before graduating, got himself signed to a national entertainment agency.

Within a few months of graduating he was competing in my own market, and I was really proud of him. He was getting that rare chance to live the dream of being a full-time magician. By early 2020 he was working consistently, building his client base, and getting rave reviews.

Then the pandemic hit and just like me and countless others, he found himself wondering how to go forward.

Timing

Unlike me, however, he didn’t have 16 years in the industry under his belt. He barely had 8 months. While his career showed a lot of promise, the timing was simply wrong. 

He didn’t have savings to rely on for months while building a virtual show. Neither did I at 22. 

He didn’t have money in the bank to invest in studio equipment to create the look and feel of a professional show. Neither did I at 22.

This particular roadblock simply appeared at the wrong time, and in doing so derailed years of dedication through no fault of his own. That’s luck, of the bad variety.

And it’s not just 22-year-olds. 

I personally know dozens of entertainers whose careers were decimated. They did not have the funds, time, or knowledge to shift into virtual entertainment. Many have kids, mortgages, or older parents to take care of. So they’re driving for Amazon or working in fast-food to make ends meet. 

There’s nothing wrong with either of those jobs. It’s honest, hard work. But it’s not what these highly skilled artists have trained their lives to do, and earned the right to make a living doing it, only to have it ripped away through no fault of their own.

Privilege

One of the best things about magic is it doesn’t matter who you are or where you came from. It doesn’t matter if your family is dirt poor or if you’re living in a homeless shelter. As long as you can find a decent suit (donation, goodwill, borrowed, or a thrift store) and a single deck of cards, you can be a professional magician.

When you show up to an event (walk, take a bus, get a ride, etc) with your pack of cards looking reasonably presentable, neither the guests nor the client will know or care about your home-life situation or family background. The only thing that matters is your artistry and ability to connect with the audience.

Nail the gig, get rave reviews and referrals, and you’ll be getting 4-figure checks in no time. That’s enough to improve your lifestyle and earn a livable wage simply through your art.

But in virtual entertainment? That equity is gone. Because there are too many new considerations.

If you don’t have reliable, fast internet, a computer capable of handling streaming services, a decent webcam and microphone, a presentable room and a quiet place to work for an hour at a time uninterrupted, you’re going to find it very difficult to compete with people like me.

I was born into a middle class family (upper-middle, depending on your definition), attended the best public school in Western New York, and studied audio engineering on a full academic scholarship.

My parents invested time, money, and energy in every interest I ever had, however fleeting, from cartooning to guitar to skateboarding to magic. They spent thousands on magic tricks, DVDs, lectures, clubs, and conventions. And because I didn’t have to take care of my younger siblings or elderly relatives, I was free to pursue magic full-time upon graduating college.

That’s luck, of the privilege variety.

The Survivorship Bias

While I never took a penny from my parents upon graduating, insisting on building my career “on my own,” I was starting from a place of 22 years of privilege: financial, emotional, and educational. I had nothing to do with being born into that situation. I didn’t earn it. It was birth luck.

To be clear, birth luck doesn’t take away from my achievements. I worked really hard for what I have. I nurtured my talented. I developed skills. I persevered through failure. But birth luck can make people in my position who talk about “pursuing your passion,” pivoting and adapting, and “never giving up” sound more than a little tone deaf.

There’s still value in aspirational and inspirational messages, but they should come with a caveat: 

If you are unable to pivot or adapt and you have to “give up” due to hardship, it doesn’t mean you’re a failure. Success is not simply determined by talent, persistence, and hard work. It is determined by talent, persistence, hard work, AND luck.

We only hear success stories from people who’ve been successful. That may sound obvious, but it’s important and overlooked. It means the only inspirational stories we hear are from the few and far between who’ve successfully overcome the odds. And when you’re living one of those stories, it’s easy to believe you did it through sheer force of will.

What’s missing from these stories is the admission and acknowledgement of that pivotal role of luck, by way of timing, privilege, or birth.

A better message: If you’ve been pursuing your dream for a long time, and feel like you’ve given everything you can, but still haven’t found a way to be successful, please know you’re not a failure. You just might not have gotten your lucky break… yet.