Haley A. Sciola

Writing and Social Media Portfolio
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FACEBOOK POST:
https://www.facebook.com/fvhardmerchandise/posts/519489214778705

This series of pictures highlights a successful post I made on 5/29/2013 at 2:56 PM as the Social Media & Merchandising Coordinator for F/V Hard Merchandise as seen on the National Geographic Channel reality show, “Wicked Tuna.” I’ve also included some of my interactions with fans on behalf of F/V Hard Merchandise. In the first six minutes, this post reached 262 viewers. Within five hours, this post had an audience of over 6,000 plus several hundred comments and likes. What’s more, on 5/29/2013 at 4:22 PM, we made an online sale from an individual who saw this post. As of 6/3/2013, the audience is greater than 18,000! Comments and likes are well over 500 each. 

I intentionally asked my audience to TELL me where they were from/where they were watching the show. I expected a lot of engagement from this question because it invited our audience to share a little about themselves and therefore feel more personally connected with their shared interest, Capt. Dave Marciano of F/V Hard Merchandise.

http://channel.nationalgeographic.com/channel/wicked-tuna/

http://fvhardmerchandise.com/

Discussion Post Samples (click each for clearer view)

These are posts I made for a course called Critical Theory using Moodle, an interactive learning environment. Each post represents my thoughts on a separate reading for Critical Theory and is meant to display my critical thinking and writing capabilities with a creative twist. 

 

Why We Fight
Haley A. Sciola

We were breaking dreams
still tracking our visions:

      ~

We fought.

I.
My life began with a blackboard,
which was actually forest green
and made learning mean nausea.

I, a pipsqueak without backbone,
was determined to straighten out
my soft scoliosis and academic deformity.

I fought for my education.

II.
Your life began with green army men,
an explanation of and initiation to war:
good guys kill bad guys together.

You, a little kid with few toys,
were determined to hurry towards glory
and respect for your strength, unnatural drive.

You fought for your country.

     ~

We broke.

I.
As nights flattered us with loneliness,
pain was quick to chime its chains;
our thoughts revolted and lashed us in sleep.

Meanwhile, love, our nemesis, was blind;
neglectful, it ignored our pleas for company
while I ignored the possibility and accepted defeat. 

II.
My life began with a blackened heart;
I, just a pipsqueak without backbone,
have hardened, walled away your strength.

Your life began with a feverish dream;
you, a little kid with few toys,
have softened, given up on paradigm.

     ~

We continue.

I.
We don’t know how our strategy changed.

But in my weakest moment you marched
swiftly towards my blockaded chest
and I feared for life that I’d lose you, love.

Our oddities, underestimated bandages
give a chance to read and overwrite
the wars with our own General bad guys.

II.
We’re not meant to make war alone. 

We argue over dinner, press upon the other
the significance of interjections, politics,
and personal projects to improve our guards.

Our nausea still waves, memories still cripple,
mental ideations, our enemies, refuse to retreat;
but we only surrender to our battles with love.

     ~

Still tracking our visions
we are breaking dreams.

To Hell and Back: Anne Bradstreet’s Faith, Fall, and Fulfillment in “To My Dear Children”