A Moment I Was Proud Of Myself
Today’s WordSmith Deck prompt (see this article for what this is all about) was:
“Describe a moment you were proud of yourself.”
I have written about one of my proudest moments elsewhere, when I talked about winning the Northamptonshire Magicians’ Club Close-Up Competition, so I’ll discuss a different memory today.
And I think that would have to be when I submitted my audition entry to become a member of The Magic Circle, the premier club for magicians in the United Kingdom (although it does have members in over 30 countries around the world).
I’d heard of this club since taking up magic at the age of 17 or so, and I think I maybe even enquired about how to become a member shortly after that.
As best as I can recall, because this is over 40 years ago now, either I never received a response, or I did and totally ignored it by doing nothing.
And with hindsight, that was probably a good thing because I was nowhere near ready to join at that time.
Fast forward to the early 1990s, having recently joined the NMC, and one of the members, with whom I became great friends later on, the late Richard Stupple, encouraged me to apply.
It was gratifying that he thought I was ready for that, and as a member of The Magic Circle council, if he believed it was the right time, I decided to have a go.
My biggest fear was that, as an introvert and somebody who rarely actually performed magic for others (most of what I did was within the safe confines of the NMC), the audition would be too daunting for me.
But then I discovered that you can submit a written entry – something one of my fellow NMC member friends, the late Mick Hanzlik (who was a locksmith by profession and one of the country’s leading experts on Houdini), had done.
OK, I thought, that’s the route I should take.
But on what subject?
Years previously, probably around 1976 or so, my magical mentor, the late Joe Riding (a much under-appreciated magician in my opinion), had shown me something by Orville Meyer called The Amazing Magic Square & Master Memory Demonstration.
In essence, this is a feat (not a trick) where a number is chosen by the audience, then each of 16 boxes in a grid is filled with a number called out by the magician and an object named by a spectator.
At the end of the demonstration, it is shown that the grid actually forms a magic square adding up to the specified number (in up to 86 different ways), and the magician is able to recall which object is in which square.
This following example, taken from one of my own performances in 1995 when the Northamptonshire Magicians’ Club put on a show for the Leamington & Warwick Magic Society, is what a square might look like at the end of the demonstration:
This feat appealed to me immediately, having been interested in mnemonics since I was about eight, and Joe gave me the thin booklet that explained the demonstration.
I took it home, learned how to do it, and soon gave my first demonstration to my parents and maybe a couple of other people who were present at the time.
To be honest, I was as surprised that it all worked as they were – because this is one of those things that is somewhat difficult to practise by yourself.
I had also always enjoyed math puzzles, and so I decided that, for my audition piece for The Magic Circle, I would write a treatise on the subject of magic squares.
At that time, I knew little about them, other than the demonstration party piece I’d learned earlier (as described above), but it seemed like something that would be doable.
Once I submitted my topic to the examination secretary and was told I may continue with that subject (because approval was required), I had six months to write and submit my work.
I have, as I’m sure I’ve said elsewhere, been a life-long procrastinator, but in this instance, I got to work almost immediately.
I bought a bunch of books on the subject, scoured magic magazines and magic books for information, and even requested a few books I could not buy via the local library lending service.
After about five months, working on it most days, I finally finished my draft.
Having already seen my friend Mick’s booklet on Houdini and noticed how short it was, I was beginning to wonder whether my work was too long – including some detailed appendices, it was over 120 pages.
Still, not to be deterred having put in the work, I printed off a copy, with a simple cover I designed myself, got it spiral bound, and sent it off to The Magic Circle’s examinations secretary.
And then I waited – nervously.
It took a while – I can’t remember how long exactly – and finally, I received a notification, probably in the mail, that my application to become a member of The Magic Circle had been accepted and approved.
So, why did I feel proud about that?
Well, the fact I had completed something I’d started, and to a deadline, was surprising to me.
For example, back in my school days, I had had two opportunities to win a scholarship (to go from Rossall junior school to their senior school), and as part of that scholarship exam, we had to do a project.
My first attempt was dismal – it was supposed to be on the history of English coinage (or, more specifically, the penny, I think), but because I didn’t put the time or effort in, I ran out of time and had to cut it short (at the end of Queen Elizabeth I’s reign, I think).
I was asked about that during my scholarship interview, and gave the feeble excuse that it seemed like a good place to end. (Of course the best place to end would have been 1972 or so, when I wrote that project.)
The examiners knew full well I simply hadn’t done the work – and, needless to say, I did not win a scholarship.
The following year, I was able to apply again, and on that occasion, I wrote a paper about cats – both wild ones and domestic ones.
And that report was much better, largely because there were no obvious omissions (and I’m assuming it was instrumental in winning a scholarship on my second attempt).
So, when I had to do my audition piece for The Magic Circle, I was concerned that I would fall back to my old ways.
But no, I actually completed it, and did a lot more work than was necessary.
After I was accepted, Richard actually told me that my book (because that’s what it was) was so good, I should have applied to be an Associate of The Inner Magic Circle (which is one level higher than regular membership).
I hadn’t realized you could do that, so I decided to make a few changes to the book (e.g. fixing a minor mistake or two that nobody had apparently spotted, as well as adding some new material), and re-submitted it.
Three months later, at our annual NMC dinner, the then President of The Magic Circle, David Berglas, presented me with my brand new AIMC certificate.
Since then, I have sold well over 100 copies of my book to other magicians and math teachers.
And all of that happened because another magician, Richard, encouraged me to do something I would probably have continued procrastinating about.
If there’s a lesson for anybody else here, it would be to:
- Stop over-thinking things and take action instead. For me, perfectionism used to be a major blocker, but I’ve worked on this over the past ten years or so and made some progress.
- Turn things you want to do into habits, where appropriate, then you’ll end up doing them almost automatically.
Finally, I’m not a great believer in being proud, especially the way many people use it about others, when really I think they mean they are pleased for them.
I also found my parents, especially my father, would say he was proud of me but it always felt like he was trying to claim responsibility for my accomplishments by living his life through mine.
I don’t know whether my dislike of the word “proud” was because at school we went for a weekend to a local religious retreat called Whalley Abbey, where we were shown a video about the seven deadly sins (which seems unlikely given I’ve never been a believer), or whether I just have some sort of natural aversion to the feeling of pride, but I did feel a definite sense of accomplishment on writing that book – and in that case, I feel it was justified.
And with my current perspective on life, I guess I don’t have a problem with people being proud of things they have accomplished, but I do think it’s the wrong word to use for things you bear no responsibility for, whether that’s accomplishments of others (including your own children) or accidents of birth.
And on that note, I’ll leave you with one of my favourite clips from the late, great George Carlin, who puts all of my own thoughts into much better words than I could:
Additional Resources
These are suggestions for those who wish to delve deeper into any of the above:
