Drama
There’s an excitement or a tension about live drama that links the performer to the audience. It’s the anticipation that anything can happen. Unlike film or television, no performance is the same, affected by the mood of the actors and audience. How fascinating it is to see a play script being so dynamic, different interpretations, always changing at the time of production and performance. Stage drama is like jumping off a cliff without knowing whether or not you can fly.
The Holmies Writers Group was born out of Holmesglen Writing and Editing Diploma students in the late 1990s. Since then, its members still together, have gone on to succeed in many genres of writing.
Writing often is a solitary thing to do but it is a partnership between imagination and pen. Once a month, my writers group meets and chats about what we’ve been doing and what we’ve been writing about.
We come up with a theme or sometimes a random picture and then write something on it to read out next time we meet. It’s not about being good or bad but simply an exercise in letting the imagination run free. How fascinating to see the different directions our imagination takes us.
Tiger Are You Out Their
Two men are talking in a men’s shed. Tom is making coffees.
Tom: When did you find out?
Sam: A week ago.
Tom: What is it?
Sam: Don’t know. Only know it’s not good.
Tom: He’s kept it to himself pretty well?
Sam: Whenever I asked said he was fine.
Tom: Well, you do, don’t you?
Sam: Our generation does, for sure.
Tom: Whatever it is, it’s gonna fester inside him if he doesn’t share it?
Sam: I know.
Tom: We can’t just sit on the sidelines.
Sam: If we confront him, he’ll shut down completely.
Tom: So, what then?
Sam: I don’t know.
Tom brings the coffee mugs over to the bench and they sit together.
Tom: Finger puppets!
Sam: What?
Tom: Have we, the three of us, or have we not, been collectors of finger puppets since we were kids.
Sam: I don’t know how that’s gonna help.
Tom: How many revelations, through finger puppets, was there putting on little shows for the kids letting life’s lessons naturally flow out of them?
Sam: True enough but how could we have a finger puppet conversation with him if he wants to be left alone?
Tom: Social media! Do an internet one.
Sam: Yes. When you’re sitting at home with nothing else to do you’re on social media.
Tom: I suppose if we get something going and link him in, he won’t be able to resist watching it, at least.
Sam: …And maybe we could hook him into the conversation.
Tom: Worth a go.
Tom sets up a telephone while Sam goes off and comes back with a wooden box of finger puppets.
Tom: Ok, we’re on and I’ve linked him in. If he’s online he won’t be able to resist having a look, for sure.
They both pick a finger puppet, hold them up in front of the phone and begin an off the cuff performance.
Pirate: G’day Santa. I suppose life’s a bit boring now Christmas is over?
Santa: Ho-ho-ho mate, not boring at all. In fact, I’m just the delivery boy at Christmas.
Pirate: I never thought of it that way.
Santa: Now, I’ve got to stew over what might be next year. Try to keep one step ahead and all that.
Pirate: I was thinking of asking you for a new hook to replace my rusty one.
Santa: Arrr, Jim Lad! If you’re a good boy, all year, we might be able to put a nice new shiny one in your Christmas stocking.
Pirate: Oh, thanks Santa, you’re the best!
Santa: I haven’t seen Polly Parrot on your shoulder for a while, what’s the go?
Pirate: Oh, you wouldn’t believe the grief I’ve been getting from those animal activists.
Santa: Grief?
Pirate: That bird should be free to fly away, and all that stuff.
Santa: But Polly is free to fly away.
Pirate: The do-gooders don’t see it that way.
Santa: Only see what they want to see, I suppose?
Pirate: Yes, and Polly’s miffed.
Santa: Miffed?
Pirate: Chirping on about what right do they have to interfere in her life. Telling her she should be up in a palm tree and not perched on a pirate’s shoulder.
Santa: That’s funny.
Pirate: Polly doesn’t think so. Stripping her of her identity is the way she puts it.
Santa: I think she might have a point. We should ask Tiger.
Pirate: Quite right!
Santa: Tiger, are you out there?
Tom and Sam position their finger puppets as if they are looking down the camera lens of the telephone watching out for Tiger.
Pirate: Tiger! Are you out there in cyber space? Come in Tiger. Are you receiving us?
Santa: Come in Tiger!
They stare silently at the screen for a moment.
Pirate: I don’t think he’s out there.
Santa: Oh, that’s sad!
Pirate: No, no wait! Here he comes now.
Santa: G’day Tiger, I see you’ve got a finger stuck up your bum again.
Tiger: It’s still not funny!
Pirate: Oh, tell me about it!
Tiger: Could it get any worse?
Pirate: A bigger finger, maybe.
Tiger: Only you could put it that way.
Pirate: Telling it like it is, that’s all.
Santa: We’ve all got the finger up the bum, so it’s easier to understand and share the pain than when you’re on your own.
Pirate: We are being metaphorical, Santa, aren’t we?
Santa: Oh yes, Pirate. A metaphor for sharing the pain – stick with the program mate.
Tiger: It’d be a script, in this case boys.
Santa: I stand corrected!
Pirate: It’s actually, improvisation. Your stripes are slipping, Tiger?
Tiger: I know what you’re doing.
Pirate: You do?
Tiger: Yes, and thanks for trying but I’m ok.
Pirate: So you say.
Santa: Something’s up, Tiger, and you’re not telling us about it.
Tiger: Don’t worry about me.
Pirate: We don’t.
Santa: We’re just pigged off that you’re shutting us out mate.
Pirate: And it hurts.
Tiger: You don’t need to concern yourselves.
Santa: Yes, we do, just as you concern yourself about us.
Pirate: That’s right! How long have you been on about my rusty hook. ‘Oh, you gotta get that seen to. You could end up having the whole arm off. We couldn’t cope if you lost an arm as well, Peg-leg!
Santa: You’re struggling with something, Tiger…
Pirate: …and it’s ok to share it with your mates. A problem shared is how you’ve put it to us in the past.
Tiger: You don’t need to be loaded up with my problems.
Santa: We don’t have a choice. If you’ve got a problem, we’ve got a problem. We feel it too even if we don’t know what it is.
Pirate: A phantom finger up the bum so to speak. That’s another metaphor, Santa.
Santa: Yes, a known finger up the bum is easier to deal with.
Tiger: Enough with the fingers fellas.
Pirate: We don’t want to be dancing around you not knowing what to say or do. It’s not easy when you’ve got a peg-leg and a rusty hook, you know.
Santa: So, just share your feelings, if not for you then for us.
Pirate: It doesn’t matter what it is. If you’ve got the clap or something we don’t care!
Tiger: I haven’t got the clap!
Pirate: I told you about my rusty hook so, you could tell us if you had the clap.
Tiger: I don’t have the clap!!
Pirate: Oh! Soreee!!
Santa: If it’s not the…, er I mean, if it’s not something we can help you with, at least let us take an arm each to support you through. It’s what we do, isn’t it?
Pirate: We feel helpless when you say you’re ok and you’re not.
Tiger: You don’t need to be loaded up with my problems.
Santa: There’s no choice. You can’t say you’re ok when we know different. And when you hurt, we hurt.
Pirate: We’re your mates; we take a corner of whatever heavy weight is on your shoulders. Just as you would for us.
Santa: A problem shared is how you’ve put it before.
Pirate: Behind every black cloud, there’s sure to be sunshine.
Tiger: Enough! Pirate, where’s all this profound insight coming from?
Pirate: I think the rust has got into my blood.
Tiger: Well, I think I’m done for.
Pirate: No!
Santa: You don’t know that.
Pirate: It’s reversable! It’s got to be!
Tiger: That’s not what I mean.
Santa: Then what do you mean?
Tiger: I mean, just take bring the beers when you come round. Gotta accept my own advice I suppose.
Tom: We’re on the way!
Sam: I’ll get the beers!
Tom rips the phone from its tripod as Sam jumps up and drags a six pack from the shed fridge. Then they both leave in a hurry.