For a while, and for the pure fun of doing it, I used to play the Gypsy at renfaires and other, similar venues. It was great fun – putting on the show as a mysterious fortuneteller, watching people oooh and aah as you helped them ‘solve all of life’s problems with but a simple consultation of the cards.’
It was purely for amusement, I thought. I mean, who believes the white guy with a hokey gypsy accent and the shiny, modern Tarot deck picked up for ten bucks at the local new age store? It only got weird when people I knew, my friends who’d come by to see the show, started asking me for readings ‘off-camera’, claiming how ‘talented’ I was and how incredible the experience was for them, and how they never knew anyone so accurate…
… er. It was a trick. A show. Nothing more.
It was, however, a valuable experience – it taught me how the entire scam works, from an inside perspective, and how easy it really is to get caught up in the heady power of it all. And.. frankly? I was by no means a pro – I was just decently observant. Drawing on that experience, let me lay out for you psychic hopefuls the anatomy of the scam – how it works, so that when you experience it you may get an alarm bell or two.
Ready?
- Establish the ambiance.Pretty simple statement, that one – but every stage performer will tell you exactly the same thing. You cannot get people to suspend their disbelief if you don’t create a scene consistent with their expectations, and internally consistent with the activity.
Riding a bicycle through a renfaire is /unacceptable/. Ideally, the person walking through the fairground in street clothes should feel welcome, but slightly out of place – it encourages them to get into the spirit of the event, to buy hats and costuming, and to want to get to know about the craftwork, the clothing, the anachronism – and, well, it helps them get involved in the fun. Similarly, when you go to a film or to a stage show, certain things happen to assist you in suspending your assumption that what you’re watching isn’t real. They dim the lights, work with consistent costuming. They never acknowledge the camera (thus divorcing your observation from the event) or the audience – unless acknowledging the audience brings you in to the scene.
Heavy curtains and closed doors minimize outside noise. Cellphones are turned off. Direct lighting (Where you can see the bulb) is kept to a minimum. Attention is hyperfocused.
Similarly, if you’re going to run a psychic reading, you do much the same thing: make sure your space reflects expectation. Make sure your own costuming and outfit fit the paradigm you intend to bring to the table. Make sure your props suit your patter – don’t pull out shining and steel if you’re doing the rustic gypsy, and if you’re Jon Edwards, don’t pull out a dowsing rod. It all has to be built to a single, easily believed picture.
When the mark crosses your threshold, they have to enter your world – it makes them predisposed to believe you.
- Involve the mark.
It isn’t simple enough to just have them come in and start the patter – the game absolutely must include two way communication and audience participation.
You see, cold reading is a game that involves THEM telling YOU everything, and you spitting it back up to them in a format they can accept as originating with you. It involves asking magician’s questions – questions that if answered simply allow you to control the conversation and get an outcome that makes you look darned good – and it tends to impart a bias in the mind of the participant that they can actually affect the outcome… that their choices matter.
All of the best psychics know that if you let them, your ‘client’ will handle the whole thing themselves. By adding a subtle bit of misdirection, you can set it up so that they’ll just willingly forget to notice that they’ve given you everything.
My own personal patter was with the cards – I would go on about the fact that no one visits the Cards without having a question in mind, that there is always something they seek to answer, a story they hope to know the ending to. I would tell them how the cards could show them, if their mind was open.
I’d have them concentrate on the cards, shuffle the cards until it ‘felt right’. I would tell them that shuffling disrupted the energies of those who had used the deck before, and then handling the cards would infuse their own question with them. I’d talk easily, walking them through every step in the process – just like a magician doing a card trick.
And – you see – they believed that the cards mattered. They’d studiously work with them, shuffle them, cut them – and I would studiously NOT touch them, for fear of contaminating them with my own energies.
And then I’d have them lay out the deck into three piles. By now, their eyes were invariably wide – and they were leaning forward, hoping I’d have something to offer them.
- Ask for the answer.
Once they’re ‘in’ – once they’re focused on your meaningless object, you throw in a misdirection that would make David Copperfield proud.
“You have shuffled the cards – you have focused on your question – and now you have a choice. You can tell me,” I would say, very seriously and earnestly, “what your question is – and I will interpret the cards specifically for that answer. Or, you can keep your question to yourself – and the answer will be more general, and you will have to delve into its deeper meaning yourself. Do you wish me to guide you, or would you rather guide yourself, mm?”
… eight times out of ten, they’d tell me their question. The actual /whole point/ – they’d lay it out, right in front of me.
“Is my husband cheating?”
“Is my daughter going to do well at school?”
“What will happen if I make at work?”
- Cater to reactions.
From here, I had three paths. If the answer was truly complex, I could look at them and say, “You already know what you hope will be – the cards, too, know – let us see what they say – ” … and I would let the ‘cards’ build toward the answer they already hoped (or feared) was true. You tailor, then, your patter to match their reactions to what you say – if they frown when you talk about their husband smelling of someone’s perfume, you quickly shift to another ‘tell’ – they’ll never remember the one you abandoned.
If the answer is more frivolous, or simple – I’d let the cards throw it out, and riff on the theme that seemed to get them more excited.
- Let them feed you more data.
My routine involved turning over three cards – the past that leads you to the question, the question in the context of why you asked it, and the answer the cards give.
You see, don’t you?
The first card invited them to speak of it – to correct me if I got their past wrong, to offer compelling imagery and convince them I already knew it all, so telling me was alright.
The second card allowed me to get them to frame their question in context. “Do you really fear he’s cheating? The card implies that you know the answer already..”
… and the third card? The third card would let me feed them a bit of logical advice without actually addressing the issue.
And that’s /it/. that’s all there is to it – no one will come and get advice from a housewife about their kid’s college careers – but someone with a solid amount of common sense, observational ability, and enough showmanship can get you to take their advice for fifty bucks and a good show.
But there’s nothing at all psychic about it.
