As I was pounding away on the treadmill the other night, the three ghosts of Christmas came avisiting.
The ghost of the past hung stolidly on the glass walls in front of me, standing out starkly against the dewy panes. He beckoned me to look back into my past but I closed my mind's eye and upped my running speed and pounded and pounded, harder and harder. Insistent and unwavering, he hung still in front of me, flashing images that have yet to fade from my memory. I remember, and slowly, I let the sadness fill me.
Satisfied, the ghost of the past left.
The ghost of the present shone in front of me then. I saw all the marvellous things in my life that I am happy with and grateful towards. My friends, my family, my health and the little things that bring a smile to my face everyday... I remember, and I let the sunshine glow in me...
Content, the ghost of the present left.
I pounded and pounded and pounded, waiting for the ghost of the future. I knew that he would come and with growing trepidation, I pounded and pounded. What would my future be with all of that in the past and what I have in the present. Then I remembered what dajie told me, if you just sit down and look at yourself right now, it's not hard to see what you'll be in the future. Then I looked into myself and I feared and I hoped. There, sitting restlessly within me, was the ghost of the future. Staring down at his feet and rocking from side to side, he stayed there for a long while.
I stared and stared at the ghost of the future. Until he stilled himself, got up and strolled away.
With a wipe of my towel, I continued pounding and pounding and pounding, soaring in the feel of sweat running down my face...
~
"Here are my favourite lines, written by my old friend heddwig: The sun is always shining. Even though clouds may come along and obscure the sun for a while, the sun is always shining. The sun never stops shining. And even though the earth turns, and the sun appears to go down, it really never stops shining."
Monday, December 15, 2008
Being Dumped or Is it? by Don Leow
She dragged her tired and tiresome body out of bed. Looking at the clock on the wall, she wished she could turned back time. To last night to be precise. That was when her then boyfriend had broken up with her. She couldn't remember what reasons he had offered for the termination of their relationship, but there was something about her becoming increasingly frigid. She wanted so much to say her piece, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Something was holding her back and the fact that her boyfriend was dumping her had caused her to lapse into a momentary daze. It wasn't despair or even sadness, but she couldn't placed it then.
Thinking back, she realised it was a strange and stupefying sense of nonchalance. She should've lashed at him for putting all the blame on her. How could he cast her as a defendant in a court of love and without a jury to pass an objective verdict! Couldn't he see that her frigidness was a symptom of their fading and farcical love. But it was for the better, she thought, and started dialling the number that she had called every night for the last 2 months. A comforting and caring voice came over the line: "How are you, darling? How was your day? I missed you so much" A slow but sure smile came over her face and she responded in kind. You wouldn't believe what that son-of-a-bitch said to me last night. But its over now and I can be truly yours in spirit as well as body.~
Don is... Someone who muses at all and sundry, but who wishes sometimes to be in the thick of action rather than looking in.
Monday, December 1, 2008
"How big is yours?" by utioa.
I have struggled to explain my answer to that particular question that was asked one peculiar occasion many years ago. The fact that I even offered an answer was amazing, but not as amazing as my answer though. My ex-girlfriend insisted that it was a Freudian slip; an unintentional but illuminating peek into my unconscious; a gift from God for her; God’s punishment for me. I just thought it was nonsense.
You know how these grass-cutters would cut the grass around your neighborhood? Slowly but surely noisily they would walk around, nonchalantly sweeping their mechanised cutters. They give the landscaped grass a trim to make it look as good as before, and then lie down on it, allowing the sweet green aromas of their work put them to sleep. They were cutting the grass when I blabbed my answer to her question. I think the sweet green aroma made me do it.
Behind her on that fateful evening, was a stream of handsome birds flying in an uncanny straight line right across the orange sky. Like a razor over the waters, it seemed to cut a temporary opening in the sky. A slit that we could pull open for that every instant and peek into the other side, the other world, or into the nothingness. What would you like to see on the other side? What can you imagine? Will things fall in? Or will you fall out? Will we enter into a minute universe will infantile and infinitely miniature worlds? Or will there be giants outside looking inquisitively at us peek out? So many possibilities, so many questions running through my mind that sometimes I wonder whether I really heard her question.
“Oh Yoshimi,
They don’t believe me,
But you won’t let those
Robots defeat me…”
That song by The Flaming Lips kept ringing, playing, intruding, caressing my mind when she was going on and on about her shock, exasperation, pissed-offness, WHAT THE!!!…nesses, at my unfortunate answer to her question. Such a nice and yearning song though. For a moment I wished I had a girlfriend called Yoshimi. Someone that I can shower on my love and attention on without fear, without doubt, without anxiety...with hope. Oh Yoshimi…She don’t believe me…My ex was quite a Yoshimi to me actually until my stupid answer to her ridiculous question.
“It’s bigger than yours.”
~
You know how these grass-cutters would cut the grass around your neighborhood? Slowly but surely noisily they would walk around, nonchalantly sweeping their mechanised cutters. They give the landscaped grass a trim to make it look as good as before, and then lie down on it, allowing the sweet green aromas of their work put them to sleep. They were cutting the grass when I blabbed my answer to her question. I think the sweet green aroma made me do it.
Behind her on that fateful evening, was a stream of handsome birds flying in an uncanny straight line right across the orange sky. Like a razor over the waters, it seemed to cut a temporary opening in the sky. A slit that we could pull open for that every instant and peek into the other side, the other world, or into the nothingness. What would you like to see on the other side? What can you imagine? Will things fall in? Or will you fall out? Will we enter into a minute universe will infantile and infinitely miniature worlds? Or will there be giants outside looking inquisitively at us peek out? So many possibilities, so many questions running through my mind that sometimes I wonder whether I really heard her question.
“Oh Yoshimi,
They don’t believe me,
But you won’t let those
Robots defeat me…”
That song by The Flaming Lips kept ringing, playing, intruding, caressing my mind when she was going on and on about her shock, exasperation, pissed-offness, WHAT THE!!!…nesses, at my unfortunate answer to her question. Such a nice and yearning song though. For a moment I wished I had a girlfriend called Yoshimi. Someone that I can shower on my love and attention on without fear, without doubt, without anxiety...with hope. Oh Yoshimi…She don’t believe me…My ex was quite a Yoshimi to me actually until my stupid answer to her ridiculous question.
“It’s bigger than yours.”
~
"Hey dun need to write self-intro lah..nothing to write. jus use my email add? (thirteenheads@yahoo.com) it leads to facebook too."
(untitled) by Lixuan
For as long as he* was self-conscient, he lived in darkness. He had nothing to his own, nor a consciousness of having needed something belonging exclusively to himself. He had no feelings of his own, nada, but he did not bemoan the lack, as not having it in the first place doubtless inured him to self-pity of dispossession.
What he did have, was a sense of shared awareness. It began one day with a vague feeling. Odd electric currents traveled through his ‘form’. He felt exhilarated, buzzed up.
Then as suddenly as it began, the buzz stopped. Something had changed. While he still lived in darkness, he now found himself sharing a common “awareness” – of tall looking columns, blue masses that looked sometimes shiny/ sometimes dark, and many others he had no way of describing – with someone, something.
Gradually he realized that there were others in this shared awareness. He felt a wave of exhilaration – though he was unable to speak of this nebulous feeling as such because he was never taught – a shared community, fwah!
As time passed, the awareness of some things faded and was replaced by others. Sometimes the shared awareness did not manifest itself in images; it came in full dolby sound surround, and other indecipherable formats.
One day, many years later, he felt the community of shared awareness fading. Had he the words to describe it, it would have been that he just had his first taste of loneliness. The “fades” just kept coming. Until one day, he lost the struggle to tap into the shared awareness and caved in to the desire to fade out like the others.
Away in another parallel universe, Tate plugged in his USB flash drive and was dismayed to see that the flash drive had finally died on him.
“Never works when you need them! Fortunately I had the presence of mind to do a backup recently”, he mutters as he walks to the dustbin and disposes of it.
*Real name: Byte-10115946789 of Toliba Flash drive 2GB S/N 123456789, suppressed for expediency purposes to “he” in the story.
~
"This story came to me at SITEX today, while I was trying to make my way out of the crowd after my sis had purchased her Toshiba laptop."
What he did have, was a sense of shared awareness. It began one day with a vague feeling. Odd electric currents traveled through his ‘form’. He felt exhilarated, buzzed up.
Then as suddenly as it began, the buzz stopped. Something had changed. While he still lived in darkness, he now found himself sharing a common “awareness” – of tall looking columns, blue masses that looked sometimes shiny/ sometimes dark, and many others he had no way of describing – with someone, something.
Gradually he realized that there were others in this shared awareness. He felt a wave of exhilaration – though he was unable to speak of this nebulous feeling as such because he was never taught – a shared community, fwah!
As time passed, the awareness of some things faded and was replaced by others. Sometimes the shared awareness did not manifest itself in images; it came in full dolby sound surround, and other indecipherable formats.
One day, many years later, he felt the community of shared awareness fading. Had he the words to describe it, it would have been that he just had his first taste of loneliness. The “fades” just kept coming. Until one day, he lost the struggle to tap into the shared awareness and caved in to the desire to fade out like the others.
Away in another parallel universe, Tate plugged in his USB flash drive and was dismayed to see that the flash drive had finally died on him.
“Never works when you need them! Fortunately I had the presence of mind to do a backup recently”, he mutters as he walks to the dustbin and disposes of it.
*Real name: Byte-10115946789 of Toliba Flash drive 2GB S/N 123456789, suppressed for expediency purposes to “he” in the story.
~
"This story came to me at SITEX today, while I was trying to make my way out of the crowd after my sis had purchased her Toshiba laptop."
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Town by Berder
Her laughter can be easily heard along the streets most of the day. She's quite a popular figure in this small little town in the middle of nowhere. Which seems rare elsewhere, given that her power over the lives of the good folks is absolute. Nonetheless, everyone seems to be happy, in this small little town in the middle of nowhere.
There isn't much history to talk about for this town, for it is quite newly established as compared to other townships elsewhere. With a current population of less than a hundred, a few good rows of houses accommodate them. Not to mention a few sizable mansions to house the more affluent ones.
Even so, the town is good enough to sustain itself. Even without her, there are enough shopping centres and restaurants and schools and grassroots committee to run the place smoothly. Of course all the decisions big or small concerning the town must go through her for anything to happen.
The town is not isolated of course. There's a train station in the town central in which its citizen can take its daily return train to the 'Outside'. That's what the citizens call the region outside her jurisdiction. Despite popular belief, the citizens are actually not that afraid of the Outside. When asked, they will say "She will still take care of us when we are Outside you see."
Speaking of her absolute power over the town, it's interesting to note that she controls everything in the town, like how the supply routes are arranged, how the roads are built, how the citizens interact, how they eat etc, while the population did not mind the control at all. And they seem quite grateful for that too. Quoting one of their words in a recent interview, "How do we live without her??"
Well, it seems that the prosperity of this little town in the middle of nowhere is set to have double-digit growth for the next few years under her wise charge.
****
"Mum, could you get me the mini-Barney dinosaur please??"
~
Actually Berder like to do a lot of random things, including writing nonsense. Of course every time Berder writes, he will try to keep the nonsensical level down. Favourite quote: "What will come will come, what will stay will stay, what will leave will leave, no matter what happens." Favourite question: "How many berders do you have?
There isn't much history to talk about for this town, for it is quite newly established as compared to other townships elsewhere. With a current population of less than a hundred, a few good rows of houses accommodate them. Not to mention a few sizable mansions to house the more affluent ones.
Even so, the town is good enough to sustain itself. Even without her, there are enough shopping centres and restaurants and schools and grassroots committee to run the place smoothly. Of course all the decisions big or small concerning the town must go through her for anything to happen.
The town is not isolated of course. There's a train station in the town central in which its citizen can take its daily return train to the 'Outside'. That's what the citizens call the region outside her jurisdiction. Despite popular belief, the citizens are actually not that afraid of the Outside. When asked, they will say "She will still take care of us when we are Outside you see."
Speaking of her absolute power over the town, it's interesting to note that she controls everything in the town, like how the supply routes are arranged, how the roads are built, how the citizens interact, how they eat etc, while the population did not mind the control at all. And they seem quite grateful for that too. Quoting one of their words in a recent interview, "How do we live without her??"
Well, it seems that the prosperity of this little town in the middle of nowhere is set to have double-digit growth for the next few years under her wise charge.
****
"Mum, could you get me the mini-Barney dinosaur please??"
~
Actually Berder like to do a lot of random things, including writing nonsense. Of course every time Berder writes, he will try to keep the nonsensical level down. Favourite quote: "What will come will come, what will stay will stay, what will leave will leave, no matter what happens." Favourite question: "How many berders do you have?
Gadgets Gadgets Gadgets by Gary
Gadgets gadgets gadgets.
Everyone in the world has at least three.
People use it to send messages to one another, to remind themselves of special occasions, and to light up the tiny little alphanumeric plates to look for their seat in the cinema.
Most importantly, people use gadgets to keep their mind from falling into the terribly dull and shallow puddle of boredom.
It’s not that terrible, mind you, to be bored. But we do all kinds of stuff to keep ourselves from getting bored anyway. Images of vegetables and slack-jawed village idiots spring to mind.
As civilization gadgevolved, people split into two factions. The Brainys was one– they believed in fully utilising their gadgets to better themselves, and the world around them. As they sat on the train to work, they worked out complex quantum chemistry formulas on their iPhones, and banded computing resources from their PSPs to perfect a renewable fuel concoction, all while signing online petitions from their MacBooks to save the rare Guinea-Bissauan dung beetle.
The Brainless were the other faction. Well, they did not call themselves that, but nobody bothered to think of a name. The Brainys called them the Brainless because all they used their gadgets for was on mindless entertainment. As they sat on the train to work, they watched VR man on their iPhones, I know what you did last summer, last winter, last autumn, and last Chinese new year on their PSPs, and Judge Judy on their MacBooks.
The Brainys couldn’t stand the Brainless. They couldn’t stand the inefficient use of resources, their lack of intellectual hunger for the betterment of mankind, and most of all…the uncouth sniggering as they watched James Lye battle Sheikh Heikel. The Brainys formed a super neuro network, and through dynamic interactive engagement and collaboration, came up with a faultless plan to eliminate the Brainless.
Which they did. One fine Tuesday an electronic pulse sent through the Brainless gadgets fried them to a crisp, leaving nothing but a tidy pile of carbon dust.
Rid of the Brainless, the Brainys continued to use their gadgets to better themselves and the rest of the world.
Little did they know there existed a secret group of surviving Brainless. One fine Thursday, the rogue Brainless group uploaded the entire series of VR Man onto the Brainy neuro network. In less than a day, all Brainys were hooked on the tales of James Lye and his virtual reality powers.
~
"The idea for the story comes from my daily commute on the MRT. Everybody seems to be fully absorbed in a gadget, be it their iPhone, PSP or whatever. Yet some people seem to regard PSP players with disdain, maybe it is a non-PSP-superiority complex or something."
Everyone in the world has at least three.
People use it to send messages to one another, to remind themselves of special occasions, and to light up the tiny little alphanumeric plates to look for their seat in the cinema.
Most importantly, people use gadgets to keep their mind from falling into the terribly dull and shallow puddle of boredom.
It’s not that terrible, mind you, to be bored. But we do all kinds of stuff to keep ourselves from getting bored anyway. Images of vegetables and slack-jawed village idiots spring to mind.
As civilization gadgevolved, people split into two factions. The Brainys was one– they believed in fully utilising their gadgets to better themselves, and the world around them. As they sat on the train to work, they worked out complex quantum chemistry formulas on their iPhones, and banded computing resources from their PSPs to perfect a renewable fuel concoction, all while signing online petitions from their MacBooks to save the rare Guinea-Bissauan dung beetle.
The Brainless were the other faction. Well, they did not call themselves that, but nobody bothered to think of a name. The Brainys called them the Brainless because all they used their gadgets for was on mindless entertainment. As they sat on the train to work, they watched VR man on their iPhones, I know what you did last summer, last winter, last autumn, and last Chinese new year on their PSPs, and Judge Judy on their MacBooks.
The Brainys couldn’t stand the Brainless. They couldn’t stand the inefficient use of resources, their lack of intellectual hunger for the betterment of mankind, and most of all…the uncouth sniggering as they watched James Lye battle Sheikh Heikel. The Brainys formed a super neuro network, and through dynamic interactive engagement and collaboration, came up with a faultless plan to eliminate the Brainless.
Which they did. One fine Tuesday an electronic pulse sent through the Brainless gadgets fried them to a crisp, leaving nothing but a tidy pile of carbon dust.
Rid of the Brainless, the Brainys continued to use their gadgets to better themselves and the rest of the world.
Little did they know there existed a secret group of surviving Brainless. One fine Thursday, the rogue Brainless group uploaded the entire series of VR Man onto the Brainy neuro network. In less than a day, all Brainys were hooked on the tales of James Lye and his virtual reality powers.
~
"The idea for the story comes from my daily commute on the MRT. Everybody seems to be fully absorbed in a gadget, be it their iPhone, PSP or whatever. Yet some people seem to regard PSP players with disdain, maybe it is a non-PSP-superiority complex or something."
Thursday, November 20, 2008
So what after submission & others
How would I know it's up? We'll send you an email. Alternatively, you can bookmark the site and check back regularly?
Can I disable comments on my piece? No. Relax. It should be fine. You can reply to the comments. You can scold anyone who's mean.
Can I edit after submission? We'll try to change it for you, but no promises.
Can I take my submission down? If you give us a good reason.
Other questions? Email quickpicknicks@gmail.com.
Read
How to submit & so on
What to submit & so on
Can I disable comments on my piece? No. Relax. It should be fine. You can reply to the comments. You can scold anyone who's mean.
Can I edit after submission? We'll try to change it for you, but no promises.
Can I take my submission down? If you give us a good reason.
Other questions? Email quickpicknicks@gmail.com.
Read
How to submit & so on
What to submit & so on
What to submit & so on
What to submit? English/singlish original fiction works (may be based on true events, whatever). Must be interesting.
What form? Preferably short short stories of less than about 3000 word count in length, roughly. Poetry is fine too. Essays on your boss or political views are not encouraged.
Minimum number of words? Let's just say 7. One for each day of the week.
What content? Up to you. It can be about anything. But it should be interesting. We're anticipating that many pieces here may have singaporean cultural references. But it is not a requirement at all. You can refer to the philippino culture, or american culture, whatever. Anything is fine, really.
Censorship? Stories with artistic vulgarities and prejudices are okay, but please bear in mind that it's going up on the www.
Will there be editing? No, your stories will not be edited. Please ensure that the work you submitted have the spelling and grammar ready the way you want it.
Why not? Editing is boring.
Pictures? Sure. Not in a big format, please.
Permissions? You must and will own the copyright to your submissions, including accompanying pictures. Quotations should be credited.
Read
How to submit & so on
So what after submission & others
Some style guides
How to write with Style by Kurt Vonnegut (some general advice)
The Elements of Style by Strunk & White (includes detailed grammar guides)
What form? Preferably short short stories of less than about 3000 word count in length, roughly. Poetry is fine too. Essays on your boss or political views are not encouraged.
Minimum number of words? Let's just say 7. One for each day of the week.
What content? Up to you. It can be about anything. But it should be interesting. We're anticipating that many pieces here may have singaporean cultural references. But it is not a requirement at all. You can refer to the philippino culture, or american culture, whatever. Anything is fine, really.
Censorship? Stories with artistic vulgarities and prejudices are okay, but please bear in mind that it's going up on the www.
Will there be editing? No, your stories will not be edited. Please ensure that the work you submitted have the spelling and grammar ready the way you want it.
Why not? Editing is boring.
Pictures? Sure. Not in a big format, please.
Permissions? You must and will own the copyright to your submissions, including accompanying pictures. Quotations should be credited.
Read
How to submit & so on
So what after submission & others
Some style guides
How to write with Style by Kurt Vonnegut (some general advice)
The Elements of Style by Strunk & White (includes detailed grammar guides)
How to submit stories & so on
How to submit? Just email your original works to quickpicknicks@gmail.com. Please stick your work in the email body, thanks. Also, provide your name or pen-name that you want the story credited to. And supply a short self-intro for yourself. If your piece is selected, we'll put it up and email you.
What self-intro? In less than 50 words, please supply a self-intro. After your story, we'll put up your self-intro at the back. You may include things like what led you to write the story, your own website add or email, your work, your age, your sex, your favourite ice-cream, whatever. Can place a link to your facebook account too.
Your contact? Please note that the email you use will be registered as your contact. We won't give it away. Unless one day, we're really desperate for money, then we may sell it to some desperate financial sales people. Desperate times will call for desperate measures, you know.
Permissions? You must and will own the copyright to your submissions. Please note that by submitting a story, you are lending us permission to exhibit your work.
How many times can I submit? Priority will be given to people who hasn't enjoy being featured before. But for now, we will try to publish everything we get, and you can submit how ever many times you want. Maybe a good gap would be 1-2 months between your submissions. We don't want it to be all about you, right?
Who can submit? Anyone. Everyone is welcome. Kids are welcome, but this is not aimed at being a kid's website, and stories may feature vulgarities or sexual reference. So, parents, don't say we didn't tell you.
Can I remain anonymous? Preferably not. At least give a pen name or something, please.
Selection process? Not much of a selection process, we'll try to feature as many pieces as possible. But some of us have jobs. so. Well.
Read
What to submit & so on
So what after submission & others
What self-intro? In less than 50 words, please supply a self-intro. After your story, we'll put up your self-intro at the back. You may include things like what led you to write the story, your own website add or email, your work, your age, your sex, your favourite ice-cream, whatever. Can place a link to your facebook account too.
Your contact? Please note that the email you use will be registered as your contact. We won't give it away. Unless one day, we're really desperate for money, then we may sell it to some desperate financial sales people. Desperate times will call for desperate measures, you know.
Permissions? You must and will own the copyright to your submissions. Please note that by submitting a story, you are lending us permission to exhibit your work.
How many times can I submit? Priority will be given to people who hasn't enjoy being featured before. But for now, we will try to publish everything we get, and you can submit how ever many times you want. Maybe a good gap would be 1-2 months between your submissions. We don't want it to be all about you, right?
Who can submit? Anyone. Everyone is welcome. Kids are welcome, but this is not aimed at being a kid's website, and stories may feature vulgarities or sexual reference. So, parents, don't say we didn't tell you.
Can I remain anonymous? Preferably not. At least give a pen name or something, please.
Selection process? Not much of a selection process, we'll try to feature as many pieces as possible. But some of us have jobs. so. Well.
Read
What to submit & so on
So what after submission & others
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
About Quickpicknicks
Quickpicknicks was set up as an experimental and casual platform for people to share and discover leisure and fiction writing.
Writing not because of obligations or responsibilities from work or school or letters to LTA, but for leisure. Writing beyond your insecurities on your english standard, but in whichever way is natural. Here, let us pay more attention to the ideas and how they are articulated, and less on how they ought to be articulated. Writing not in the confines of reality - as in a blog - but in the freedom of imagination.
The featured pieces - poems, short short stories, and whatever - written by people (mostly but not restricted to Singaporeans). They may be people you know, think you know, or not, or whatever, but it should be interesting to find out what they thought of and you didn't, or did, or whatever.
The name? QUICKPICKNICKS - Quick refers to the length of the contributed pieces. Poems and short shorts (lesser or around 3000 words). Quick to write and quick to read. Picknicks refers to how it's like we all just gather around somewhere outside to eat, but here we write. Quickpick refers to something in Singapore that you can buy for as little as 50 cents but can potentially win you millions of dollar, if you're really lucky. That's as much random sense as the name need to make.
How it came about? I am Ju-Lyn, or meekfreak, and I write stories for fun for a few years now (they can be found here). So, one day, I wrote a story relevant to my friend, Mark, who said something like, "hey, can I write a story too?" So, one thing led to another, and we thought a dedicated site for people to share their writings would be a good project. And... some of the feedback I've received makes me think that other people would enjoy writing. So, let's try it.
Currently looking for people to help manage/admin this, so we'll update then.
How can you contribute? Write a story or two. Or submit a story or two (to quickpicknicks@gmail.com). Or tell people about this page. Or tell people to write or submit a story or two. Or comment, but we do strongly urge you to write a story before you comment. Read more about submitting stories here. Thanks!
Contact us? Just email here: quickpicknicks@gmail.com .
Writing not because of obligations or responsibilities from work or school or letters to LTA, but for leisure. Writing beyond your insecurities on your english standard, but in whichever way is natural. Here, let us pay more attention to the ideas and how they are articulated, and less on how they ought to be articulated. Writing not in the confines of reality - as in a blog - but in the freedom of imagination.
The featured pieces - poems, short short stories, and whatever - written by people (mostly but not restricted to Singaporeans). They may be people you know, think you know, or not, or whatever, but it should be interesting to find out what they thought of and you didn't, or did, or whatever.
*
The name? QUICKPICKNICKS - Quick refers to the length of the contributed pieces. Poems and short shorts (lesser or around 3000 words). Quick to write and quick to read. Picknicks refers to how it's like we all just gather around somewhere outside to eat, but here we write. Quickpick refers to something in Singapore that you can buy for as little as 50 cents but can potentially win you millions of dollar, if you're really lucky. That's as much random sense as the name need to make.
*
How it came about? I am Ju-Lyn, or meekfreak, and I write stories for fun for a few years now (they can be found here). So, one day, I wrote a story relevant to my friend, Mark, who said something like, "hey, can I write a story too?" So, one thing led to another, and we thought a dedicated site for people to share their writings would be a good project. And... some of the feedback I've received makes me think that other people would enjoy writing. So, let's try it.
Currently looking for people to help manage/admin this, so we'll update then.
*
How can you contribute? Write a story or two. Or submit a story or two (to quickpicknicks@gmail.com). Or tell people about this page. Or tell people to write or submit a story or two. Or comment, but we do strongly urge you to write a story before you comment. Read more about submitting stories here. Thanks!
*
Contact us? Just email here: quickpicknicks@gmail.com .
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