Writing short form - Gestures (2014)

We have all become victim to searching on the web to determine the diagnosis of symptoms. And the relief, or alternatively fear, that it can evoke when we find a match. 

Bingo, I've got bunions, or the latest flu or something a little more concerning.

Well, I recently had a similar revelation when undertaking the Kill Your Darlings short form writing workshop.

For years I have written small pieces that I piled onto a heap, thinking that one day they may serve as the foundations to a bigger story. Unfortunately most of them have lay dormant and have been hidden under the next and the next becoming a lamination of stories and ideas.

Fast forward to this recent course, that I am halfway through, and I finally feel that I have a pathway for them.

These pieces of writing have a home, named as Hint Fiction, Micro, Sudden or Flash Fiction and of course the standard short story, these morsels are worthy. 

So rather than letting them sit on a metaphorical shelf gathering dust, I will post them with the hope that they may connect to a reader and to allow me to expand on them at a future date. Some of them may be outdated first draft ramblings, but nevertheless it's time to be a little braver.

This is the first of what I hope will be many shared short form pieces of writing...

Gestures (written in 2014)

The world is full of feel good gestures. Or at least it felt like it used to be. 

Growing up with a head full of Mae West, Humphrey Bogart, Cary Grant and the plethora of 80's films depicting tortured young men with boom boxes spewing out cheesy pop songs in a Romeo and Juliet scenario or making mixed tapes.

 
Fanny Brice played by Streisand in Funny Girl and Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany's - these were the characters I wanted to be and these were the lives I longed to inhabit.

Barbara Streisand in Funny Girl (1968), directed by William Wyler. Image courtesy of Britannica

These stories depicted people willing to sacrifice dignity and pride to express how they felt. Often cheesy, overacted, but nonetheless they demonstrated a feeling. Who can forget the desperate search for Cat with Holly and Paul Varjak, played by George Peppard, running through terential rain to find him. Or the earlier gesture from Holly to Paul when she buys him a typewriter ribbon as an apology.

I was a girl who grew up thinking that people really did sing to each other. They sang in the rain, washed men out of their hair, confessions of love were inevitable and grand gestures were normal. it was only a matter of time. I imagined running away to join the circus, the theatre, becoming a film director...and we would all meet regularly on the suburban streets to joyously sing in tune and dance our way through our days.

How disappointing to realise that this was not actually true. Suddenly the world seemed a little less colourful and a little more beige.

So I ponder, when was the last gesture you experienced or enacted yourself?

I have some memorable ones. A trio of friends rocking up to my flat with a hot pot of tea - yes, they had filled a teapot with boiling water and driven across two suburbs to my place. Accompanying this was a plate of freshly baked scones, jam and cream for my birthday. 

Or a lovely young man, knocking on fellow caravan park doors for ingredients to make me a sumptuous dinner. I can still taste the salty, delicious flavour of that simple omelete made with garlic, onion, mushrooms, bacon and hint of white wine. 

On a sunny day in Hobart when I was handed a four leaf clover by an old woman who appeared to be sleeping rough. She quietly mumbled something to me as she passed by, smiling as she handed over the delicate green treasure before walking on; disappearing into the suburban streets. A completely unexpected gesture from a stranger.

But then there were other times, important times, when I waited for the gesture. Waiting, waiting and consoling myself with the thought that perhaps I was being unrealistic - dillusional.

Slowing my steps and pausing at a car door for him to express in action how much he wanted and needed me to stay. But as I drove off, the unused gesture hanging tenuously in the air before being whipped away with the dust from the tyres.

Are gestures the unspoken words that need to be said? Is the world full of little bubbles of words, expressions, sentences, actions that could have changed the direction of lives, worlds or footsteps?

We all deserve gestures and we should all attempt gestures because the point isn't to pull off the best possible amazing stupendous feat. The point is to convey love, respect, friendship, appreciation, joy...the point is to do it for your own self preservation. Perhaps it's based in it's better to give than receive or give without expectations. 

'The true measure of a man is how he treats someone who can do him absolutely no good." - Samuel Johnson, English writer and polymath.

Whatever thread we wish to tie this to, I think it's
about pulling open our ribs to expose the warm, vulnerable, fleshy heart that is quietened and insecure much of the time.

Gestures aren't demanded, hinted at, asked for...the point of a gesture is that we don't expect them. 

So if you are sitting on the edge of handing over a bunch of flowers from a roadside stall, buying someone a book, surprising a friend or forming your own flashmob to sing at someone's workplace, be brave and just do it. For surely the world needs more gestures

And finally, to all those moments that I neglected, where I paused too long, questioned my sanity, held my breath and waited...I am so very sorry. I promise to do better.

And finally, in the words of Mae West...'You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.'

Copyright (C) Written 2014. Gestures by Kylie Elizabeth Eastley. All rights reserved.