Acts of Violet(70)
“That’s the problem doing what I do,” she says, pouring our beverages. “I made such a point of turning small, everyday moments into a spectacle, people got used to it. It got so I felt like it was my job, even when I was off the clock. I mean, these were the people who gave me everything I have—they came from all over to see me, they watched me on TV, they bought my merchandise. They showered me with more love and attention than I ever deserved. I got into this mindset where I felt obligated to give everyone I came into contact with a special moment of wonder, and thought I was letting people down if I didn’t. But holy crap, is that an energy suck. Sometimes I just wanted to buy some tampons or eat a hot dog, without having to perform. Not that I’m complaining, I did it to myself. Problem is, I overdid it.”
You hear the word “exhaustion” thrown around a lot in the world of showbiz. Work schedules and social pressures can be grueling, and burnout is not uncommon. Other times, exhaustion is code for drug addiction, mental illness, eating disorders, and a myriad of other ailments celebrities would rather keep private. When Volk left Vegas in 2001, she, too, cited exhaustion, as people speculated about the “real” reason the show was being shut down. Rumors of alcoholism and substance abuse abounded, though they were unsubstantiated. Ditto the rumors of emotional breakdowns.
There were other types of rumors, too, nicer ones. Of performances at children’s hospitals and senior centers. Of multiple USO tours. All done using a pseudonym and disguises, with great effort to minimize the publicity surrounding them. These rumors are more substantiated but rarely covered in the press.
I’m more inclined to take Violet’s exhaustion at face value. Especially right now, sitting across from her, as her immaculate posture momentarily deflates. When she briefly removes her sunglasses to clean them, a closer inspection reveals colored contacts lending an artificial azure brightness to her eyes, which are otherwise bloodshot, with faint dark circles beneath them. It could be that I’m catching her after a bad night, or it could be that, success notwithstanding, recent years have taken their toll on her.
“Please don’t write that I look all strung out,” she says, making me wonder if the next area of magic she plans to master is mentalism. “I was up late and didn’t feel like waking up early to glam myself up. Don’t take it personally.”
“Up late?” I echo. Despite the anecdotal warnings I’ve received about how intimidating Volk could be, I never believed it until now. For some reason I’m more nervous talking to her than I was interviewing a serial-killer-turned-poet I profiled last year (and that guy was twice my size and strangled eight people with his bare hands).
“I was working out tour logistics. Though based on your judgy stare, let me state for the record that I never had a drug or alcohol problem, and I am not mentally ill. The tabloids sell more copies saying I’m in rehab or a mental hospital than they would if they printed the truth, which is that I needed to step away and chill for a while. Yeah, things were rough coming out of Vegas, but working on You Are Magic helped me find my spark again. That’s not as exciting as me battling addictions or nervous breakdowns, though. It pisses me off when the media insinuates all this bullshit drama.”
Again, this woman is an epic mentalist in the making.
She seems irritated, so I offer an easy question in the hopes of getting back in her good graces, asking why she’s avoided giving interviews in the last few years, and why she’s giving one now.
“I got in trouble for that Foxxy piece. The industry doesn’t like it when you show how the sausage is made, and my ‘people’ were not thrilled with some of the things I said. In other words, I was too honest. And apparently, I’m ‘too volatile’ to be one of those calculated tell-it-how-it-is celebrities. Since my big mouth was considered a liability and I refused to play a sanitized version of myself to journalists, we decided I’d shut the hell up and create more of a mystique around doing spontaneous appearances and cameos, but no formal interviews. I used to think it was a requirement of being famous, but I’m not the only one who avoids them. I mean, look at John Malkovich—not doing interviews hasn’t hurt his career. Oh god, please don’t call this article ‘The Malkovich of Magic.’”
I give her my word and ask why her mouth is no longer considered a liability.
“I guess it’s a risk my publisher is willing to take. They actually seem to like who I am and what I have to say, which is why I signed with Empirical Books. And since they were nice enough to give me money to write a book, I’d like to return the favor by helping them promote it.
“But I also wanted to set the record straight about a few things.” She holds up a finger while she takes a long sip of lemonade, though I had no intention of interrupting her.
“The accidents. Obviously, I should’ve said something about them sooner—I mean in a real way, not through carefully worded press releases. People will interpret that however they want, anyway. If they like me, they’ll appreciate my being real. If they don’t, they’ll see it as yet another publicity grab, to get more book sales. Though in all honesty, I think You Are Magic is gonna do just fine with or without my hyping it up.”
She’s probably right. In fact, the hype began early last year, when Volk got a reported seven-figure advance for You Are Magic, after a frenzied auction among eight publishers. While early reviews for the self-help title have been mixed, the book is already in its fourth printing and the publication date was moved up three months (from September to June) based on high demand. A publishing industry insider confided You Are Magic is expected to become an instant bestseller based on preorders alone. And while many raised an eyebrow at a motivational seminar—ahem, “magical inspiration”—tour in support of the book, every announced date has sold out.