Five features of e-lit that I’d like to use for my story, “Let there be light”:

1) I’d use Flash to animate a candle.

The candle was a big part of my original story, what with it being the central motif that lit on to symbolize hope at the end. It would be interesting to have, possibly, with each paragraph of the story, a candle accompanying it that attempts to be lit when the paragraph turns, but is extinguished immediately. The effect would definitely bring the candle to the forefront of the reading minds and reflect what’s happening in the story, both physically and figuratively. If played right – and I see the paragraph on the left and the candle on the right of the screen with forward and backward arrows under the paragraph that can advance a page – it could be a very subtle reminder of the themes of the story that wouldn’t be present otherwise.

I want it just as subtle as the trees were emphasized in the “Little Red Riding Hood” e-lit in the first collection that we read last week. Just slightly moving back and forth.

2) Audio voiceover

Since in my story, the power is out, it could be cool to have the audio narrating the words (because it can’t appear since there is no power and it’s all darkness) but every time the word “light” comes up, the word “light” in golden yellow flashes onto an otherwise black page.

The effect would again emphasize for the reader the importance of the metaphor but also give a nod to the setting and the importance of the power outage to the story.

3) Audio of everything as it happens, but narration on the page

The narration will move with the clicks of arrows, but the narration will be synced with audio of things as they happen. The patters and crashes of the rain; the creaks of the floorboards in the house; the thud and breaking of glass when the tree crashes into the living room, etc. It would be interesting to add this background noise.

It would paint a better picture for the reader of what’s actually happening, just as radio does, and make him/her feel as if they are there. It is also more engaging for the piece as a whole.

4) In the e-lit “Twelve Blue” from the first E-Lit collection, the story comes together by snippets pieced based on the clicks of your mouse. One click somewhere can take you to one side of the story, and another click will take you elsewhere – sort of like the choose your own adventure. I want to borrow that “choice” element of randomness but with photos of the rain. The story progresses traditionally, but depending on which photo is chosen, the visuals tell a different story each time.

This will emphasize the power of light and continuity in the storm and yet the chaos of the rain and the predicaments it brings, which is a side unexplored in the plain text version.

5) Embedded video

If there’s a way that I could replicate the emotions of the rain juxtaposed with the emotions of Johnny in the story through video, I want to do that. I’m thinking with a color, as the text flows in a voiceover with the video, the frequency of colors appearing on the video screen will ebb and flow to the tide of the rains. For example, in heavy rains and high emotions (such as when the tree crashes), the colors on the video will be dark and fierce. But at the resolution, the colors will be few and will be lighter, happier.

This is a totally new reading experience that adds color and a sentiment of higher chaos and higher stakes to the story. The visual element brings out the emotion and the action in the story and will emphasize climaxes and ebbs and flows in the story better than any other medium described previously. It will shape the story and really connect the dots for the reader in terms of why it was structured in that particular way, showing them how it all comes together in the end.

Darkness.

A flicker of a light; hope.

Then, out again.

“It won’t work!” Joey fumbled with the matches in the blackness, feeling around for the vanilla-scented Yankee Candle near the kitchen sink.

Johnny sighed, running his fingers through his coarse sandy hair. His little brother could be hopeless sometimes, he thought, ruffling through drawers for an extra matchbox.

Outside, the rain howled, piercing the black sky. It hadn’t done enough damage already with the power outage, so it hammered the roof, pounded the windows.

“Did Mom or Dad call home?” Joey pulled on a sweatshirt, curling up in a chair.

“No, idiot. The power’s out, remember?”

That response stung; Johnny saw his brother look away. Joey hung his head, dark brown hair falling in his face, still playing with his matchbox.

Johnny’s mother was in Jamaica for the fourth time that year, his father on an extended business trip to China since May. Trying to make their relationship as long-distance as possible was working.

The parents left the kids home most of the time, told the neighbors to watch over them as the two of them struggled through a failed marriage.

“Stop playing with those, Joey.”

Joey put down the matches, dejected.

“How come? I almost got it.”

“No, you don’t. Those are impossible to light. Even I can’t do it.”

Suddenly, a crack, like that of a whip but magnified one hundred times. A long swooshing of wind reverberated through the house, a patter of rain sloshed. The house got blacker.

Joey jumped at the noise. Johnny, startled, danced his iPhone light every which way to find the culprit. He shone it in the living room as his bare feet squished into wetness. His heart stopped.

“What the – ”

A tree, halved by the furious storm, had cascaded into the room through the windowed glass, sprawling over the upholstery, knocking into the 50” plasma, strewing leaves over the family portrait taken years ago and old school photos. Those final shreds of normalcy were destroyed.

Johnny’s head was spinning. He feverishly went through the motions of dialing his parents’ numbers on his phone. Five-one-three-two-zero-nine-five-five-six-one, ring – nothing. Five-one-three-two-four-eight-seven-six-nine-nine, ring – nothing. Five-one-three-two-zero-nine –

“Johnny. What are we gonna do?”

Johnny blinked back fear and frustration and anger and depression and said, “I don’t know.” The last word trembled. Johnny never trembled.

Johnny collapsed then, crumbling to the hardwood against the counter. He held his head in his hands, tired of always knowing and tired of not knowing and just tired.

“Johnny!”

Johnny moaned, rubbing his face.

“Not now, Joey.”

“No, just look! Just – ”

Johnny looked up. His eyes widened.

There, in the torrential rain pouring in from the living room windows, the heavy wind ricocheting throughout the house and the mirrored hollowness he felt inside, Joey was holding the lit candle.

He got up and wiped the leaves off his jeans and stood with his glowing little brother near the countertop, watching a fierce fiery flame on a Yankee Candle dance – a ballet nestled in a storm.

This is a memory.

The puppy became our new best friend. He’d run and we’d run. He’d get this fire in his eyes and sprint off in spirals and circles and make us dizzy. He was fierce. He was wild. He was loving. We watched “Marley and Me” and he barked his head off at Marley and Owen Wilson. He chewed my favorite hat. He changed us – my sister talked more, my dad talked more, my mom reveled in comfort. He was our missing piece. Our puppy.

And as I go on into the future as a journalism and government major at Maryland, this memory – stories – sticks with me. My puppy as my avatar tells me to remember my past and my heritage, my present with two homes in College Park and Mason, OH, and my future. Wherever that might be. But for now, I’m just me. I love writing, the news, reading, newspapers and news organizations, food, the Beatles and going new places.

I can bring solid InDesign knowledge and basic Photoshop and Illustrator skills to the class. I also know WordPress pretty well and enjoy taking photos – some of which turn out satisfactorily.

I’m excited to learn more ways to think about writing news in this class – I want to be a political reporter when I grow up – but also to explore that persuasive and fiction side of me that gets locked up behind all the journalism sometimes.