Monday, August 16, 2010

Frames vs. Pages

Frames are changing the way I write/revise.
I've always preferred composing on the computer, perhaps because when I write longhand, I tend to sprawl all over the page, invading the margins, writing vertically and circling around words. (I'm sure my dyslexia plays a part in that too.) On the computer, I can simply hit enter and type my thought, or add a "comment" in word and insert my idea there for further consideration; then, to revise, I can simply cut and paste, and the computer will sort out the line breaks, etc. for me.

Not so with Flash (or any other design program). Parameters are always set by the composer, and the visual frame has to be small enough to be a viable option in a Flash movie of several thousand frames (the maximum before crashing seems to be 16,000, though I don't plan to approach that with my current piece). Often frames are repeated--in my longer pieces of text, it often takes well over 30 frames of the same text (at a frame rate of six frames viewed per second) to provide time to read one section of text (quickly)--and to prevent the user from growing bored staring at one screen, such long pieces of text need to be broken up and shown through different *keyframes.

(*FYI: In Flash, a keyframe is like an anchor; that frame is set as a starting point, and that frame will repeat in all future frames unless the author inserts a new keyframe with new (or no) content--this is how an empty pot, with the insertion of new keyframes that show a step in the growth process, can become a flower pot, as in the illustration above. Thus, while Flash can automatically create this necessary repetition, the author must determine the parameters, testing the sequence--repeatedly-- to see how many frames are necessary to show the entirety of the content to the viewer.)

Thus, I found that in converting the text of the threads of my story into this format, I needed to be much more aware of the "space" it would be occupying. Paragraphs don't always fit on one frame, and line breaks consequently occur much more frequently. After composing the first two parts of my six parts painstakingly, finding I had to constantly revise on my feet to make things fit in the frame and break appropriately to emphasize the meaning of the sentences and create appropriate rhythm, I decided I needed to plan this out better: "storyboard."

Now, in film, storyboarding involves a mock-up, drawing scenes to get a sense of placement for people, objects, etc. However, given that much of my piece is text driven, I used this idea to instead mock-up how my text would play out. I started by taking each thread and dividing them into six parts; I then tried to imagine how I wanted each part of the thread to progress in terms of speed and emphasis, and revised/cut as needed to eliminate text that could be conveyed through image, sound, or movement (and keep the parts as equal in length as possible).

Even then, as I began revising parts two, I realized that my thread that relied very heavily on text needed something more--otherwise, it was just text rolling by on screen. It then occurred to me, as I began revising my mock-ups again to show line breaks, that the use of color and movement might allow me to embed text within text. Thus, the red poems within the reflective thread were born, each expressing--in the same, yet different words--the feeling behind the reflections. This was exciting, and I believe I never would have been so cognizant of my diction and use of space if it were not for jumping off the page and envisioning movement with frames.

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