Marketing & Event Management, Westlock Memorial Hall Events & Hospitality • Marketing & Event Management • Community Engagement • 2017–2020 Project Summary Westlock Memorial Hall offers a community gathering space with a commercial kitchen, impressive stage, and supportive staff, ensuring each event is unique. I was an employee of the board. there wasn't a lot of staff so it meant a small tight knit team. Working in a smaller team meant wearing many hats. Beyond marketing, I contributed to event planning, graphic design, photography, and social media management. I led marketing campaigns and event promotion for a community venue, helping increase bookings, support fundraising initiatives and strengthen community engagement. My Role At Westlock Memorial Hall From 2017 to 2020, I served as the Marketing and Event Manager for the Westlock Memorial Hall, a historic community venue at the heart of Westlock, Alberta. I was responsible for promoting events, growing community engagement, increasing attendance, and strengthening the community hall by providing events and a rental space to bring people together. Key Contributions include the following: Managed marketing campaigns for community events. Coordinated event planning and logistics. Created print and digital promotional materials. Increased venue bookings through strategic marketing. Supported fundraising and community engagement initiatives. Maintaining consistent branding across both print and digital materials Project Details Client: Westlock Memorial Hall Industry: Events • Community • Nonprofit Project Type: Marketing • Event Management • Community Engagement Role: Marketing Coordinator Timeline: September 2014 – February 2020 Project Scope: Managed marketing campaigns, coordinated community events and promoted venue rentals while supporting fundraising and public engagement initiatives. Audience: Community organizations • Event organizers • Local residents • Businesses Tools Used: Facebook • Canva • Google Business Profile • Microsoft Office • Adobe Creative Suite Skills Used: Event Marketing • Community Engagement • Graphic Design • Marketing Strategy • Sponsorship • Event Coordination • Communications Project Reach: Supported dozens of community events, fundraising campaigns and venue marketing initiatives over six years. Challenge The Westlock Memorial Hall serves a rural Alberta community where marketing budgets were limited, and audiences relied heavily on traditional advertising alongside growing digital channels. The challenge was finding creative, cost-effective ways to increase attendance, encourage repeat visitors, and attract new audiences while understanding the hall's long-standing community identity. Approach I developed integrated marketing campaigns that combined traditional community outreach with digital marketing techniques. Promotional materials were designed to be visually engaging while remaining accessible to a broad audience. Each event also required its own specific strategy, balancing the expectations of longtime attendees with opportunities to reach younger community members and families. Event Photography Photography became an important part of documenting and promoting the Westlock Memorial Hall. Rather than relying on stock imagery, I photographed the venue, community events, performers, and attendees to create authentic marketing materials that captured the hall's welcoming atmosphere. Outcome During my time with the Westlock Memorial Hall, my marketing initiatives contributed to increased community engagement and stronger event promotion. Through strategic marketing and audience-focused campaigns, the hall experienced approximately $2,000 in annual profit growth, helping strengthen its long-term sustainability. Beyond financial results, the role allowed me to build experience in event marketing, community engagement, graphic design, photography, and project management while supporting an organization that continues to serve as an important gathering place for the community. Skills Used Community Marketing • Event Planning • Graphic Design • Photography • Social Media Marketing • Branding • Content Creation • Audience Engagement • Print Design • Campaign Strategy Tools Used Canva • Adobe Creative Suite • Facebook • Microsoft Office • DSLR Photography • Google Workspace

Creative Non-Fiction Storyteller, Edmonton Story Slam Literary Arts • Creative Non-Fiction • Storytelling • 2017 - 2019 Project Summary Edmonton Story Slam is a grassroots, volunteer-run storytelling event series that features an open-mic competition format for writers and performers to share five-minute personal stories. This project involved developing clear, engaging, and SEO-aware content that reflects the organization’s inclusive mandate, event structure, and community-driven identity. The content was designed to support audience growth, improve clarity for first-time attendees, and strengthen brand storytelling within Edmonton’s arts and culture scene. This organization gave me a chance to share my work. I created a personal narrative for live performance that combined journalism-inspired storytelling with creative nonfiction techniques. My Role I created, revised, and delivered an original nonfiction story to a live audience. The project emphasized improving written messaging, engaging the audience, and enhancing projection and volume when speaking to a crowd. Key Contributions include the following: Wrote an original creative nonfiction story. Researched and developed authentic personal narratives. Edited content for live performance. Delivered engaging storytelling for a public audience. Strengthened narrative voice through spoken-word presentation. “Long Long Legs”, Story Slam Edmonton (2019) Long Long Legs By Dylanna Fisher for The Edmonton Story Slam I can’t really remember where we were on the highway between home and camping. It doesn’t really matter though. I guess location didn’t have much relevance. We were a few yards away from it, and I could tell what it was. This was one of the first times, I’d actually caught a good look at a dead animal. I’m not saying I’ve never been around dead animals, but for whatever reason, I was never able to actually see them. Though here I was. Those first moments were filled with a mutual silence as we both noticed it at the same time. The carcass was subtle like smoke against a cloudy sky. You could barely see the difference, but you couldn’t see it at the same time. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but it did when you saw our reactions. Even as we stopped laughing, the music faded behind us. The sounds of our voices and the tunes of the radio were left to hang in the air to become thin. Then came the moment that we were side by side. The driver stared ahead. Focusing on the road, the trees on either side of us. The living trees. I instead stared at the body on the road. It was just lying there. As still as death and as dead as the stillness around it. I continued to stare at it, at the long legs covered in soft pale fur. To call the legs white would be too harsh and beige too mundane. Its legs extended parallel to the road. Beautifully parallel. I could see a coat under the carcass. It looked like a pool of caramel hidden under a grave. That’s all I saw, and it was over. Too soon, it was the moment after. We were driving away and began talking about something irrelevant to the concepts of life and death. We didn’t talk about the corpse and probably never would. I’m sure that if we had stopped, we would have been able to find out what colour it was. To find out if the coat was really the colour of caramel, or if it was a mere trick of the sun or autumns leaves. I would have noticed the gore if there was any. The trauma of death. Some telltale sign as to how or why this animal had to die. I’m sure I would be able to see its eyes. Whether the shine within our eyes abandons us upon death or if it lingers as a remnant to what was lost. At the very least I would know what kind of animal I was mourning. I guess it could’ve been a deer. But during that moment, all I saw were the legs. What a funny thing to focus on. I think back and can only associate those legs with freedom. What a notion to connect freedom with a creature that wouldn’t move again. Throughout the day, those white legs followed me. I couldn’t help but think about them. Until I wasn’t thinking about them. We arrived at the campsite and the distraction began. Those legs, once bright in the front of my mind, were soon pale and fading to the back of my skull. It didn’t seem like long, but the distractions lasted until night fell. As the last glimpse of the sun left our campsite, we sat around the campfire. It only took one person to look ,up and soon everyone was star gazing. I tore my eyes away from the pinpoints of light to look at who I was sharing the sight with. My sister, father, uncle, and cousin, all circled around burning wood to gaze at something burning light-years away. I looked around the fire and just took a moment to appreciate the ones around me. It was peaceful, and for whatever reason, which triggered the memory of the animal’s legs. I felt my eyebrows furrow, but it was invisible to the others. As I returned my focus to them, I heard my uncle chastise my cousin, Brody, for getting too close to the fire. Brody was the youngest of the campers still awake, the youngest of the ones sleeping too, come to think of it. Seconds passed, and like many young kids, he did it again. This time he went too far and fell forward. My uncle didn’t miss a beat and pushed him back against his little Pixar camp chair. It teetered slightly before bringing the panicked little boy to a stop. I could hear his breath snagging as he cried. He had tears running down his face. Although I couldn’t see them, I could feel the echo in my chest. His father repeated Are you okay until he got an answer. My knee is all that the poor kid could get out. My uncle asked again if he hit it on the ground or the fireplace. Understandable because one was a simple booboo while the other might mean a bad burn. He didn’t answer the question, instead, he answered with hysteria. I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die. I don’t want to die. After some artificial light, we learned that Brodie wasn’t hurt, merely terrified. I couldn’t help but think about that animal in the middle of a highway. It must have been both hurt and terrified as it died alone. Forgotten, save for its long pale legs. I wonder if the animal was thinking the same thing as Brody. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. But it did die. “My Purpose in a Single Gasp”, Story Slam Edmonton (2017) My Purpose in A Single Gasp By Dylanna Fisher For The Edmonton Story Slam My first time reciting a short piece of fiction in front of an audience was nerve-wracking and exhilarating, all wrapped into one. I had shared a story before but never in front of strangers. Never had I shared a story in front of people that I couldn't gauge their reactions. Yet there I was with my hands sweaty, but my mouth so dry I couldn't swallow. Standing on stage in a darkened café, I stood there telling a tale about a simple camping trip, providing a deeper glimpse into what life is and that it one day ends. It started with the death of a deer. Being hit by a car means that it didn't have much of a chance. The deer was dead and alone while I was going camping to be surrounded by life and love, and light. And that moment impacted me so much, I felt the need to share it with strangers. I couldn't see the audience, not because of the darkness but because I couldn't see past my knuckles growing white from gripping the paper. At that moment, there were only the recounts of the story; A story of death, and of death being so close yet so unfathomable. I spoke with a clarity that I didn't know I possessed. "As I returned my focus to my family, I heard my uncle chastise my cousin, Brody, for getting too close to the fire. Brody was the youngest of the campers still awake. youngest of the ones sleeping too, come to think of it. Seconds passed and like many young kids, he did it again. I said, pausing to catch my breath and the audience's attention, "This time he went too far and fell forward." I paused again. But something other than my heartbeat filled the silence. Without being able to see her reaction, I could hear one of the audience members gasp while leaning forward in her chair. Her gasp was so audible, I swore I could feel her exhale against my cheek. The chair legs scraped against the concrete floor, proving that she wasn't the only one on the edge of her seat. Her gasp is the best inspiration and advice, I've ever gotten because it's always stayed with me. I'll never forget that moment, that connection with my audience. That's the point of all of this, of all my writing, of all my content. Connecting with people is why I write and why I love to write. Writing is subjective. Everything is different for each writer and each specific work. The ways we get inspiration, the ways we maintain inspiration, the ways we construct prose, the ways we proofread, the ways we publish, the ways we maintain ourselves as writers are different. The ways we continue as writers differ with each word, with each sentence. What works for James Rollins won't work for Ross Campbell and vice versa. The advice given to writers is amazing and helpful but isn't universal because writers aren't universal because writing isn't universal. That's the point of literature. That single gasp is one of my proudest singular moments as an author. I was able to make someone feel something. My words brought forth more than just a logical reaction but an emotional one. One that's more than a facial expression but an expression through her entire body. I connected with my audience that night, and I want to do that every single day. “Pigs”, Story Slam Edmonton (2017) Here’s a story about one of God's creatures that in its lifetime goes from cute to cuisine. From Stuttering Porky Pig to pink pork sausages too quickly. When one thinks of pigs, images of Miss Piggy, Piglet, holiday ham, and back bacon flood to their mind. They ponder the differences between Canadian bacon and American bacon, between a pet pig and a non-pet pig. I remember the day when the word pig was no longer innocent. I was seven. I was seven the first time somebody called me a pig, and I knew they were not referring to a cartoon, home cooking or anything I could be proud of. Instead, they shot me at point-blank range with a single bullet, a single word: pig. It left an entrance wound to my heart, rattled up my throat, choking me until finally planting itself in my brain. Without an exit wound. From there, they watched my tear-soaked face mimic a draining carcass of pork. The tears ran red as it filled the empty tray in my chest. The pig carcass looked as if it were crying, but it was only meat meant to live then die. It's funny how the flesh of a pig and the flesh of a little girl look the same sometimes. I began to see myself as a pig’s peer. I sympathized with Porky Pig and his stutter. I flinched every time someone commented on the amount of fat on an Easter ham. Every picture of a wild boar being roasted over a spit made my skin burn as if licked by a campfire. In their mouths sat an apple to keep its squeals internal. I felt myself choking on that apple, unable to cry out, unable to squeal. Always the boar came to look like a mirror. The mirror I look in every day shows Wilbur without Charlotte's webs. I looked into that mirror, and it was clear. A Sow's ear can’t make a silk purse, and neither can pork make a princess. The clothes I put on my body, this body suffocates me like a pig in a blanket too tight. My feet seem like hooves being forced into ladies' fashion. As the seeds of the apple cut my throat, I continue the persona of the pig. I remain silent and seemingly ignorant. To this day, I can’t talk to a doctor without hearing them mocking me. I fake a smile as my teacher mutters to themselves, a confirmation that the torture of my childhood never left. I pretend that I don’t notice how people look at me as I walk past them. That I don’t see how she looks at the body hidden under these clothes. I’ve seen the mixture of disgust and pity so often; they are inseparable, combined in my mind forever. To this day, that word, pig, has never been delicious. My stomach churns as I even think of placing it on my tongue. I can’t take another serving; I refuse to get force-fed this holiday ham. I rip at the label on my jacket. It reads a fully cooked boneless smoked ham. It doesn’t say anything about less fat, but it says 25% less sodium. Fuck that. Fuck what they say. I’m still raw. The blood pumping through these veins hasn’t been spilled yet, and my spine. I try to reject the persona of a pig placed upon me without my knowledge. I am not a pig. I am not a bacon trend. I am not a helpless piglet being slowly led to your slaughterhouse. I am not something to come out at your beck and call when you want something to roast over an open fire. My flesh is not for your consumption or amusement. I am not a pig. I am a human being, not Wilbur, not piglet, not bacon, not ham. I’m not a pig. Oink oink. Learn more about the Edmonton Story Slam by visiting their website.

Creative Fiction and Storytelling, Story Inkcorporated Guest Fiction Writer | • Creative Writing • Fiction • 2020 Project Summary Story Inkorporated is a storytelling podcast that explores day-to-day life, from distant dystopias to everything in between. Story Inkorporated presents stories that are stimulating and engaging- yet short enough to fit into even the busiest schedules. Through this podcast, I developed original works of fiction focused on immersive storytelling, character development and narrative structure for publication and literary audiences. My Role I worked alongside the narrators to write creative fiction stories. As one of the many guest writers, I focused on blending creative writing with audio-first storytelling to maximize emotional impact and listener retention. Each story is crafted to be engaging, thought-provoking, and easy to listen to. Key Contributions to Story Inkcorporated Creative Fiction Podcast include the following: Conducted audience and format research for podcast storytelling Wrote and edited original fiction scripts Collaborated with narrators on tone, pacing, and delivery Structured scripts for audio clarity and listener engagement Optimized sentence flow for cadence and rhythm Applied storytelling techniques suited for short-form audio Refined scripts based on performance feedback Samples of Work The Last Life Is Blood Red, Story Inkorporated Read "The Last Life Is Blood Red " Below I am Mario. I was a plumber, a hero on a grand noble adventure. Not really. I lived in a different world, an endless galaxy. Everything was so simple. I knew what I had to do and how to do so. The mistakes I made never hurt me. Upon any level, I could try again. I wondered intensely but rarely if there was something more. I quickly ignored my subconscious and soon found another distraction. I triumphed over levels, fights, and foes. I was unstoppable. With the help of a star, I was invincible. I thought that my life was complete. Then I found a purpose: a gorgeous princess to rescue. The levels now meant nothing. Even though she wasn’t at the end of each level, I fought for her and her alone. The princess peach was the fruit to my Yoshi, my damsel in diamonds. Rapunzel had nothing on the lovely locks of my dearly beloved. Ariel’s melody wavered to noise when the charm of my princess spoke but a word. And forget Snow White; the apple of my eye is and only is Princess Peach. Oh, I should add that it wasn’t an apple that caused Snow White’s beauty to whither. It was a peach, my peach. The only princess that could even compare to mine was Cinderella—compared to her grace and elegance, Cinderella had nothing. Only in aloofness are they similar. Like my princess, Cinderella evaded her prince, taunted him, and left him wondering and yearning and swooning with nothing but a fleeting glimpse of her beauty fading away into the night. This gave me hope that, eventually, the prince won her heart with the return of her shimmering glass slipper. He proved to her that he loved her because he fought not only to reach her but also brought her back that which she lost. She fell into his arms with such grace and admiration. I would lay at night dreaming about the moment. The moment that I would finally have Peach in my arms. But I didn’t have a glass slipper. Though I came to learn the contrast between us and them, between me and him, between a plumber and a prince. The fact that he was a grand prince, and I was a lowly plumber hit me like a grand piano from the fucking sky. It hit me and hit me hard. Not to mention that all the wealth, stars, and powers I could muster would never amount to a glass slipper enchanted in the moonlight. Not only did the elegance of my offerings falter, but the romantic notions behind them. Those attempts combined almost killed me. No matter how hard I prayed or cried, how hard I forced myself, it was never good enough. I was never good enough. I sometimes felt as if she was toying with me. I no longer celebrated a successful level at the end of every level. I was mourning another failed attempt to gain the love, nay even the warm acknowledgement of Princess Peach. The only times I would see her were the images of her going away. I knew she saw me. At first, I thought it was the timing of it all, as if the cosmos and their grand design would reward me for my patience. But it wasn’t timing. Was it? She saw me. She knew I was there. She knew everything. And she still left. At least Cinderella had a curfew to explain her chase. What was Peach’s excuse? I thought it wouldn’t get worse. I pictured myself as a dying mouse and her a sadistic cat without mercy. She reached in and worsened my agony by gripping my heart. It stayed in her palm for a moment, sometimes hours, as she watched it pathetically attempt to circulate blood through a body lying two feet from it. My princess didn’t even have the mercy to rip out the traitor organ away completely. She left it and placed it beside me on my sleeve. I bared my heart on my sleeve to her, and in a cruel twist of fate, she did the same. She laughed as she walked away. As I watched her, my heart pumped blood into the ground. It poured out as my fingers went numb, and my eyes wept. This didn’t even end the pathetic suffering. No, I patched myself up and carried on. After this, I tried once more. My mistress of misery, I owed it to my muse to try once more. I continued to the next castle, praying she would see how I care and love her. I’m begging that it’ll all change. I sobbed as I continued, realizing that I couldn't save her. That was never how it was supposed to be. I realized that she could save me, but she never will. I reach the castle. I reached my princess. But this time will be different. This time I’m not going to save her. I’m going to save myself. I arrive, and the door shuts behind me. There is no going back now, but I don’t think there ever was. I put up no resistance to the blows. The first blow stung a bit. Soon it all became numb. I looked up pitifully as the giant fist crushed me for the last time. Goodbye, my princess. If I can’t have you, I will have nothing, not even life. Writer's Block, Story Inkorporated Read "Writer's Block " Below There's a curse that comes for the inspired and has come for the inspired since any of us can remember. Ever since the moment a word was spoken with passion, instead of necessity or desperation, they've hungered for us. We were something new, and they grew a taste for the passionate word. The words dripping with even the most subtle of emotions brought them from the deepest corners of the universe with gnawing hunger. Buried in dark crevices, these demons hid in this world's infancy as imagination grew and inhibitions lessened. They waited in the shadows. The inspiration had come, and it was time to feed. These creatures of sorrow haunt those with stories running in their veins, with narrations choking their throats until they're released from their tongue. Their inspired victims run with ink in their veins, with letters pressed against their wrists, with pens and keyboards in weapon hilts, with sentences draped around their neck like gothic diamonds. With tales streaming behind them wherever they go, there is no way to run from them. The words trail behind us like a shooting star. Feasting on all that brings life to the storyteller, these parasitic demons feel no remorse, only vindictive gluttony. Nobody is safe from the plague, for there is no warning, no glimmer of premonition, no sense of foreboding. Not until it is too late. You don't notice it as it starts to spread, subtle like a sprinkling rain amongst chalk. It comes in silent, dark, and indifferent. It arrives unannounced and leaves its prey ignorant and blissful in their focus until it is too late. They stalk in the shadows. Waiting for the right time, for the right prey; We call it writer's block, and it's the killer of ideas, the stagnation of creators, the ruin of all that it could be. An ecstatic writer sits unknowingly staring at the screen, waiting for the words to flow. She feels words begin to pour toward her fingertips, arriving from her muse, a kind of fairy godmother, if you will, of literature and inspiration, of prose and creativity. She steadies her fingers, bracing for the words, but it's already come. She's already cursed. The potential of what could be lured it here to feed upon her inspiration. It’s here. As the hair on her neck stands on end, she strains to try to understand the reason for the lack of focus. A cool breeze flows down her back. She trembles, feeling it behind her. She can barely feel it, but it’s there. Its claws slowly press in below her shoulders and drag down her back. Its breath gets heavier on her spine. Heavy and wet. Reaching deep past her arms, she feels the ideas being ripped from her very fingertips. The words right on the tip of her tongue are stolen. The demonic curse has staked its claim on all that belongs to her muse, draining the mana from its source. More and more and more it takes and takes and takes. It overpowers the writer's inspiration, making it cower until finally retreating to a muse that has abandoned her patron. The lights start to flicker, on and off, switching inspiration from a bright orb to a mere glow and then to shadowy dust. The light gets snuffed out by something that she can't quite see but can still feel. She can feel it feeding, feeding on the words, feeding on her story, feeding on her. Darkness engulfs the room as it digs its claws in. The shadows dance against the wall, silhouetted by the glow of the computer screen. With shadowy tendrils, they reach toward the wordless document as if mocking it, showing the shifting and feeding of the creature. They move and moan around the room, ooohing and ahhing at the empty Word document on the screen, mocking the lack of words. The demonic voice whispers, you could say it’s almost indescribable. "It's okay, shhh, it's okay to merely be an audience,” The writer's block whispers in her ear. Voyeurism is overrated. It's just going to be bad anyway because you rushed it. Just stop trying. Procrastination is intoxicating, isn't it?" Then, in tongues, it laughs and laughs. They stared at each other before her eyes faded to grey. She stands up and stares toward the demon. She turns off her computer screen and walks out of the room. The demon laughs and laughs, all the while licking the inspiration of its stained claws. It won another one.

Get in touch with Dylanna Fisher Communications. Reach out to discuss projects, collaborations, or inquiries about my writing, essays, and nonfiction work. Curious? Reach Out Today! First Name Last Name Email Message Send Thanks for submitting! Other Ways To Reach Me: Email: Dylannafisher@gmail.com Learn more by visiting my FAQ or Sitemap . Social Media: Facebook Instagram LinkedIn Blue Sky RedBubble X Flickr

Learn more about Dylanna Fisher by visiting her online portfolio at dylannafisher.com. About Me. I'm Dylanna Fisher, an authentic and analytical communications specialist with over 8 years of experience in SEO content writing, digital marketing, social media strategy, and customer support. With a background in journalism, marketing, and graphic design, I bring a strategic, creative, and data-driven approach to content creation. My work has been featured in publications, social media campaigns, and brand storytelling projects across Canada. I’ve worked with 40+ clients, delivering SEO-driven content, social media campaigns, and engaging visual storytelling that enhance brand presence and drive measurable results. My experience spans industries including music, education, journalism, marketing, and the nonprofit sector. Download CV Proffessional Experience Volunteer Experience Education Microcredentials Professional Experience Real Estate Newsletter Writer (Contract) | DMS Marketing • Edmonton, AB April 2026 – Present E-Commerce Digital Content Specialist | Amre Supply • Edmonton, AB June 2025 – January 2026 Content Specialist | Homeward Trust Edmonton • Edmonton, AB April 2024 – October 2024 Technical Editor (Contract) | Northern Alberta Institute of Technology (NAIT) • Remote August 2022 – May 2023 Social Media Copywriter | ZAG Creative • Edmonton, AB March 2022 – October 2023 Administration & Overnight Respite Worker | Alberta PDD • Westlock, AB November 2021 – July 2023 Local Sports Journalist | Best Version Media Sports • Remote January 2020 – December 2022 Marketing Coordinator | Westlock Memorial Hall • Westlock, AB September 2014 – February 2020 Investigative Reporter | Institute for Inclusive, Investigative & Innovative Journalism (I3J) • Remote, Canada February 2019 – September 2019 Seasonal Sales Associate | Kunitz Shoes • Edmonton, AB August 2018 – December 2018 Narrative Designer | 4th Dimension Labs • Edmonton, AB February 2017 – October 2018 Digital Content Strategist & Editor-in-Chief | Switching Styles • Remote September 2017 – Present Freelance Writer | Various Publications • Remote September 2015 – Present Education Bachelor of Communication (Journalism Major) | MacEwan University • Edmonton, AB December 2019 Data Analytics Certificate | IBM SkillsBuild & University of the People • Remote Graduation Date: July 2027 Volunteer Experience Digital Marketing Volunteer | LaPerle Parent Advisory Association (PAA) • Edmonton, AB September 2024 – February 2026 Local Student Reporter | The Griff, MacEwan University • Edmonton, AB December 2019 – March 2020 Social Media Coordinator & Concession Volunteer | Westlock Country Jamboree • Westlock, AB February 2019 – February 2020 Campus Safety Volunteer | MacEwan Safe Walk • Edmonton, AB September 2016 – September 2017 Microcredentials Data, Analytics & AI Data Analytics Certificate — IBM SkillsBuild & University of the People (2026) Introduction to Structured Query Language (SQL) — Gale Courses (2025) Introduction to Artificial Intelligence — Gale Courses (2025) Google Analytics for Beginners — Google Analytics Academy (2021) SEO & Digital Marketing Achieving Top Search Engine Positions (SERPs) — Gale Courses (2025) SEO Foundations — LinkedIn Learning (2024) SEO for Ecommerce — LinkedIn Learning (2019) E-Commerce SEO Optimization Strategies — LinkedIn Learning (2019) Google Business Profile Training — Google (2021) The Bullseye 101: Introduction to Targeted Advertising — Bullseye Branding (2021) Web Development & Technical Skills Python Programming Foundations — Gale Courses (2026) Advanced CSS3 & HTML5 Web Design — Gale Courses (2025) Designing Effective Websites — Gale Courses (2025) Creating Web Pages — Gale Courses (2025) Writing & Communication Fundamentals of Technical Writing — Gale Courses (2025) Writing Clearly for a Business Audience — LinkedIn Learning (2023) Grammar Refresher — Gale Courses (2025) Project Management Project Management Principles — Gale Courses (2026) Professional & Workplace Flexible Thinking Skills — LinkedIn Learning (2023) Respect in the Workplace — NAIT (2023) Specialized Certifications Protect Security Staff Certification — AGLC (2024) TCPS 2: Research Core Essentials — Macewan University (2017) Medication Administration — PDD (2021) Abuse Prevention — PDD (2021) Get in Touch Contact Page dylannafisher@gmail.com

Home | Dylanna Fisher Communications Explore nearly a decade of writing, projects, and essays. See updates for 2026 and discover my current portfolio and services. Dylanna Fisher With eight years of experience bridging complex data and audience engagement, I specialize in transforming stagnant content into high-performing digital assets. I started my career as a journalist because I enjoy sharing stories. I know that people make the best decisions when they have all the information. Because of this, I'm passionate about making information accurate, accessible, and meaningful. That passion continues to shape how I approach digital and print content to this day. My background combines investigative research, SEO strategy, accessibility-focused communication, and audience engagement with a strong ability to translate complex information into clear, user-focused content. Throughout my career, I have worked in fast-paced, mission-driven environments, including nonprofit organizations, educational institutions, national media projects, and enterprise e-commerce operations. My experience in these roles includes managing high-volume digital content systems, coordinating cross-functional campaigns, producing investigative journalism, supporting crisis communications, and developing strategic content that improves visibility, engagement, and public trust. Partners & Publications Institute for Inclusive, Investigative, and Innovative Journalism (I3J) Published Works & Photos Web & SEO Content “Milwaukee ‘Nothing but Heavy Duty’ Brand Page”, Amre Supply (2026) Brand Page “Mental Health Study Reveals Crisis in Canadian Music Industry”, Switching Styles (2026) Blog Article “Pythonic Releases New Death Metal Ep ‘Decomposition’”, Switching Styles (2026) Press Release “Resideo Whole Home Solutions Brand Page”, Amre Supply (2026) Brand Landing Page “Canada’s Famous Strangers Unveil Haunting New Single", Switching Styles (2025) Press Release “Chopping Mall (1986): Soundtrack Review”, Switching Styles (2025) Review Article “The Ewoks Cartoon and Its Iconic Theme Songs”, Switching Styles (2024) Entertainment Article “Bear And Breakfast Review”, Switching Styles (2024) Video Game Review “More Than Porn: Top 5 Reviews of Nsfw Webcomics”, Medium (2022) Review Article “Representations Of Reality; Comparing Photographs to Traditional Artistry”, Medium (2021) Opinion Piece “Creating Awareness of Suicide; The Story of The Semicolon Tattoos”, Toxic Dolls (2019) Blog Article “When Art Imitates Life: LGBTIQQ+ Representation in Film and Television”, Medium (2019) Statistical Essay "More Than A Piece Of Paper; How To Improve Your Resume", Foster Care Headquarters ( 2019) How-to Article “Finding The Sweet Spot — Locations for An Industrial Model Shoot”, Toxic Dolls (2018) Blog Article “Trending Body Modification”, Toxic Dolls (2018) Blog Article “Gameboy Jones; A Rapper of The Geek Genre”, Switching Styles (2018) Artist Feature Journalism & News Reporting “How Does Property Assessment Work in Alberta?”, Rew (2026) Editorial Article “What is the market value of my home?”, Rew (2026) Editorial Article “Marianne Chénard: Crafting Connections Between Humanity and Nature”, Ceramics Monthly (2024) Artist Profile “The Griffins Women’s Soccer Team Hopes to Shine in Upcoming Season”, BVM Sports (2022) Feature Article “Revisiting And Repairing the Harry Jerome Track”, BVM Sports (2021) Feature Article “Disc Golf Accessibility in Southern Alberta”, BVM Sports (2021) Feature Article “Removing The Gag: Literary Journalism’s Effect on Destigmatizing Bdsm”, Medium (2021) Long-Form Article “Starting From the Ground Up: Red Jade – An International Martial Arts School”, BVM Sports (2021) Feature Article “From The Skinny Kid to Shifu Neil Ripski”, BVM Sports (2021) Feature Article “Everything Sucks! Review”, The Griff (2020) Television Review “Spurs And Stripes: Cowboys, Art and A Love for Both”, Medium (2020) Webcomic Review “Phantom Thread Review”, The Griff (2020) Film Review “From Airplanes to Apartments”, The Griff (2020) Feature Article “If You Live in Alberta, Here’s What You Can Do to Have Your Water Tested for Lead”, Global News (2019) Investigative News Article “Edmonton Residents Exposed to High Lead Levels in Water Over Last Decade, Investigation Finds”, Toronto Star (2019) Investigative News Article “Witchery Market”, The Griff (2019) Feature Article “Edmonton Residents Have Been Drinking Tap Water with Lead Levels as High As 120 Times the Federal Limit”, Toronto Star (2019) Investigative News Article “Are Kids in Alberta Drinking Water with Lead at School? We Don’t Know Because the Province Doesn’t Require Testing”, Toronto Star (2019) Investigative News Article Photography “9 Fantastic Things To Do In Edmonton This Week”, By Allison Stephen, Daily Hive (2025) Editorial Photographs Misplaced Intentions At Bohemia, Event Photoshoot (2018) Live Event Photography “The Best Trails And Hikes In Edmonton With Gorgeous Fall Colours”, By Alyssa Gallardo, Curiocity (2025), Editorial Photo “PIMS Group Bags $310.6m Contract For Australian Coal Mine”, Mining Technology (2021), Editorial Photo “African Rainbow Minerals To Acquire South African Platinum Mine”, Mining Technology (2021), Editorial Photo Misplaced Intentions Band Practice (2019) Contract Photoshoot “Local Music Venues: Naked Cyber Cafe & Espresso Bar” Switching Styles (2019) Photo Essay “More Flurries In The Forecast For Edmonton This Week” By Dh Edmonton Staff, Daily Hive (2020) Editorial Photos Creative Writing “A Good Neighbour”, Aurore Erotica (2026), Erotica “Writer’s Block”, Story Inkorporated (2020) “The Last Life Is Blood Red”, Story Inkorporated (2020) “Long Long Legs”, Story Slam Edmonton (2019), Creative Non-fiction “My Purpose in a Single Gasp”, Story Slam Edmonton (2017), Creative Non-fiction “Pigs”, Story Slam Edmonton (2017), Creative Non-fiction Featured Projects Homeward Trust Edmonton | Housing Supports Forum Web Content & Marketing | Content Specialist Amre Supply | HVAC E-Commerce Digital Content Operations | E-Commerce Digital Content Specialist Bohemia | Misplaced Intentions Photoshoot | Photographer & Creative Director