Many Catches ago, Steve Rawlings wrote us a general guide to street techniques: jolly useful it was too, because few how-to books exist in that line of twine, and it has to be admitted that Steve himself knows a thing or two, whether it's Street International or TV Variety, or anything in between. talking to him just the other day, we found he'd written more, much more (must be all those spare weeks incapacitated) and that struck us as a very good idea; so we've bagged more, and much more. And here's Part 1 of an ongoing series: some ideas on how to put a show together. The stage is yours, Steve.

You don't have to be a proffessional performer to do shows, you can be an amateur or an enthusiastic hobbyist; if you have a skill that you've been working on why not put an act together and show people what you're made of? If you have a talent for something it would seem a shame to waste it and you might make some money into the bargain. Fervently practising in dark corners is all very well, but it can worry the neighbours and I'm not sure it's good for you. It can also lead to things becoming quite stale and boring for you. Going out, doing a show, and getting appreciation for what you're doing can give you quite a kick and send you rushing back to your dark corner with renewed enthusiasm to get that little bit better for the next one. Alternatively you may reason that if you're going to be bored you may as well go and bore everyone else as well.

Whatever your reason, if you're going to perform you're going to need a costume. Bear in mind that what looks disgustingly lurid, loud and over-the-top in daylight can actually look - dare I say - quite fetching on stage. Now don't get me wrong here, I'm not recommending you go rushing off to buy those sequinned outfits you've always secretly wanted. Find a style that seems to fit you and your character and try it out, not forgetting the limitations your type of act can put on the type of clothes you choose. For instance baggy clothes and loose sleeves would be a nightmare for a juggler to work in, whereas a magician would wear a loose jacket to hide production items in until they are needed.

Whatever you wear, whatever style, you must make sure that your clothes are immaculate. Even if your character is a tramp clown you must give the appearance of being dirty without actually being so. Your appearance at a show says a lot about you and you'd be surprised how many people notice if you're not up to scratch.

Now that we've got that sorted let's get on with the show. A lot of people make the mistake of waiting for that next big trick before they start their shows, in the belief that the audience will really like it and you'll do a good first show as a result. This may be true, but it's also a good way of giving yourself a perfectly logical reason for not performing just yet. For some people there will always be one more trick, but the best trick in the world will get very little reaction if it's badly presented, and the only way to learn to do that is in front of a live audience. The skills in your act are the thread that holds it together, but it's your character and how well you perform that will make it something special. Once you've reached a certain level of competence in your act it's time to screw your courage to the sticking place and get out there and see if anyone likes what you're doing.

The standard structure of a speciality act is a big opening act and a big closing trick, with your filler material in the middle. A big opening trick doesn't necessarily mean you have to pull an elephant out of thin air, it merely means using some of your strongest material in order to get the audience's attention and hopefully have them on your side for the rest of the show. If you start well and end well a crowd will always go away thinking you were good because the last thing they saw you do was excellent. Your filler material (ie the main part of your act) should be as good as you can make it without being better than your finishing routine, and your act should flow as smoothly as possible from one routine to another, building up to your finish. Try and keep your routines as tight as possible, don't pad things out to make your show longer. It's hard enough to keep people's interest as it is, don't make things harder for yourself by flanelling.

Choosing the kind of tricks that you present in your show is very important: remember you are performing to the audience not to fellow artistes, and what another performer will be impressed by will leave an audience stone cold; and vice versa. A trick like juggling two balls and an apple, eating the apple at the same time, may seem very old hat to another juggler, but the average audience will probably never have seen it before [wanna bet, Steve? - d] and would thoroughly enjoy watching it.

It's also a good idea to specialise in a certain area of your chosen artform rather than waste time and energy trying to do everything. In a nutshell, it's much better to excel at a few things than to be vaguely interesting at lots. I'm not saying don't try other things, far from it. I do think that when you start you should have a go at everything you can get your sticky little hands on, but once you've found what you're good at, stick with it and drop the rest. A mistake that jugglers often make (and this applies right across the board) is having learned a few good tricks - say for the sake of argument, behind the back, under the leg and columns - then they go and repeat these moves with each set of props they use, right through the show. It is not enough just to change props, you have to vary the routines as well - unless your act is based on boring people to death. I once saw a juggler do a routine with a devilstick, then repeat it with a mop and then do it all again in case anyone missed it with a fire devil. It went from being quite a nice skilful routine to being barely tolerated by the crowd.

Even that may not be enough; if everything you pick up you throw, that too becomes boring. The more predictable your show is, the less interesting it will be to watch. In my own show I've mixed juggling, magic, balancing and clowning to create a well balanced show [if not a well balanced performer - d] that runs smoothly for 40 minutes without too many repetitions. No need to make things hard for yourself! Mixing your skills to provide variety has the added advantage of surprise. The last thing a crowd expects from a juggler is a magic trick: you can get away with the most outrageously bad handling of an illusion or sleight simply because no one is expecting it. If a magician picks up a knife he is either going to stick it through his arm or push it magically through something; whereas if a juggler picks up three knives he is expected to juggle them, not start cutting his hands off. By doing this he has not only shocked and surprised his audience but wrong-footed them and shaken them out of their complacency: they now no longer know what to expect from him.

You don't have to be that skilled to vary your show. A magician need only do the most basic juggling or balancing trick to get a good reaction, and - believe it or not - people will remember you for it. Anything that makes your act stand out from the others is a plus.

The very successful comedian Brian Conley has got mixing skills to a fine art. Not only does he sing, dance and tell jokes in his shows but he also joins in with his support acts as well. Even though at best he's only capable of a poor forward roll and can barely juggle, he'll do routines with both the jugglers and the acrobats. When people leave they won't be thinking what a bad juggler he was, they'll be thinking that not only did he do his own show, but he did juggling and acrobatics as well, and very impressed they'll be too.

One of the best pieces of advice I've ever had was: if you're pleased that a trick has worked, show it, leap about ecstatically and scream with joy; your feeling of achievement will carry over to the crowd and they'll appreciate you all the more. Try and make everything you say and do seem like it's for the first time and not like you're reciting it from memory. As you get on in this business you'll learn to fake these things better than any actor ever could, but for now it should be fresh enough for you not to have to fake things at all. Go out and enjoy yourself and have a good time: if you're enjoying yourself chances are everyone else will too.

Finding your performing persona is a very long and drawn-out business and certainly won't happen overnight. If you've thought of a character you'd like to try out, the best way to do it is to find that part of your own character that fits, and exagerate it, make it bigger. If you haven't, I think the best way is just to get out there and see what comes out. You may find that you go through all sorts of characters before you find what works for you - it may even be as simple as just going on and being yourself - but the search is worth it: it's your character which dictates how you perform and makes your show different from everyone else's.

It takes at least five years to put together a really strong show so don't be put off if you don't take the world by storm straight away. No one does good shows to start with, although there are plenty who'll tell you they did; you can take it from me these people are lying outrageously, probably to make you feel small and build up their own egos [or their shows still aren't any better! - d]. Just ask around until you find someone who saw them in their early days and store up the information for an opportune moment.

My own first show was apalling; it was in a crêche in Brixton for a dozen mothers and babies. I'd practised like a loon beforehand and was the saddest looking clown you ever saw. I did the show twice as quickly as I'd meant to because the babies were all over the place and no-one was watching anyway. I came away with five pounds and a pocket full of sandwiches, but whether that was for doing a good show or for not killing any of the children I'll never know

Once you get the running order of your show sorted out, it's time to start rehearsing. Run through your act until you know it inside-out and it seems to run smoothly (you can always stick a running order on the inside of your prop case in case of emergencies). Go through all your movements and what you're going to say, try to make the links from one trick to another as smooth as you can; familiarise yourself with the verbal so you've got one less thing to worry about come the big day. Most acts can rehearse in front of a mirror to get some idea how they look; except, of course, jugglers, who'd go boss-eyed trying to juggle and watch themselves at the same time. There is really no substitute for getting friends and family (who you trust to talk straight and not give you platitudes) to watch and give you an honest opinion of what you're doing, what's working, and what's not, and why. Don't forget that the easiest trick can look really impressive to an average crowd and the most difficult can leave them cold. The trick is to take an easy trick and make it look difficult, not the other way around. You should get just as much applause if you sell it well enough.

When you're happy off you go. It doesn't matter if you're not being paid although you could always try for expenses; at this stage of the game it's experience that counts, the cash comes later. Fêtes, schools and children's parties are usually only too happy to let you come and have a go. Failing that you could always give street performing a try. [of course some people's acts are made for the street in the first place - d].

Make sure you arrive early to set up your props and have a look at the crowd. If you're a juggler or acrobat you'll need to warm up first, but don't practise for too long or you'll be too tired to do a good show. Don't risk going on cold and pulling any muscles - I recommend a maximum of half an hour to leave you raring to go. For jugglers, just going through the motions of some of your tricks without the props can be a good warm-up.

You're bound to get butterflies before you go on but just keep telling yourself that you're there because you want to be there and you're going to enjoy yourself. If you're still worried about the shows get together a few like-minded friends and do a group show: it's just as much fun without the pain of going solo. Personally when I started, if I had a show in the evening I found it impossible to eat after midday, until after I'd done the show in the evening and my nerves had calmed down. I remember meeting an excellent comedy magician called Clive Web and being totally in awe of him because he was tucking into a chicken leg before he went on.

As a first-time performer you are bound to make mistakes, but you must bear in mind that the audience don't know your show and therefore they don't know what you meant to do, or not. Whatever goes wrong, don't let it bother you - as long as it doesn't bother you it won't bother the audience. The moment you show genuine irritation the crowd will become uncomfortable with it; if a trick won't work after two or three attempts, you must move on or risk losing the crowd. You can always make it a running gag by coming back to it every now and then; and if by chance it works you should get a really good round of applause for achieving an obviously difficult trick.

After the show when you've finally stopped babbling about it to everyone who'll listen, go through your show again like you did in rehearsal and see what worked and what didn't and why, then start looking at how you can improve it for the next time.

To see Steve Rawlings & Friends Live & Unstable, Featuring Chris Luby & Dave Brown, check the Steve Rawlings website for details