It’s finally time to launch the re-boot of Rumble Girls: RLO. Out of necessity (regular updates and being a single parent make for a lot of necessary) and enjoying telling stories and sharing them, I will be offering subscriptions.
The subscriptions will be $5.00/month.

Subscribers will get goodies:
Early access to RG:RLO updates.
A monthly wallpaper and icons.
A monthly PDF containing script excerpts and production art from RG:RLO, plus previews of the next month’s story.
A monthly drawing for five winners of original, one-of-a-kind sketchcards.
A monthly drawing for a part as an extra in RG:RLO. (May substitute spouse, cat, mom, etc.)

To make this work, I need 300 monthly subscribers. I know I have more than four times that across LiveJournal and Twitter!
Subs would be via PayPal, using their recurring payment feature.

Here’s how you can let me know you’re in:
Go to my Fundable.com page for RG:RLO, and make a pledge via PayPal. Your PayPal account will NOT be charged. (I tested it myself to be sure.)
This is not to raise the amount on the page (so ignore the dollar amount), it is only to get a headcount of my readers and followers who’d like to enjoy the subscription perks outlined above.

Please Twitter this, and re-post the URL of this post to your own blogs, Facebook pages, etc. using this handy-dandy URL:
http://divalea.net/?p=136

Thank you very much for taking the time to give me your responses! You are all very important to me!

Getting the papers drawn up and getting everything where it needs to go is a white-knuckler.

Next week, I will be trying an experiment to see if I have the Long Tail to support myself and the kids. Yes, I know there are programs to assist, and I’m looking into them, but not everything is appropriate. (Unless you are a whiz at negotiating Texas’ assistance programs, assume I know what I need to know, and I am doing what needs to be done.)

Also, working like a madwoman on Rumble Girls: Runaway Lightning Ohmry. That’s part of the Long Tail.

That’s where my scarce self is.

First, you really have to get to a crisis point. By this I sometimes mean an eight-month-old sandwich; but I also mean not being able to find the single biggest thing you know is in there; trying to reach into it, your foot hitting a slope of plastic bags and clothing, and falling into your closet, at which point you are devoured by Christmas ornaments enraged that they were not on the tree this year.

Second, find a place of acceptance that everything must come out. Everything. By everything I mean this: everything.

It’s good for your to understand the difference between linear and cubic feet. You can learn it as you moved everything from one tiny room to a bigger room.

Third: three piles and brutality. Keep, throw away, give away/donate. For that donation pile, keep in mind two things: just because it’s going to Goodwill doesn’t mean they want your garbage. A torn shirt is garbage. Scraps of fabric are garbage. A torn quilt is garbage.

Here’s how you decide what to donate: imagine yourself having to defend every piece you give to the ‘Will to an overworked donation worker. If you find yourself really believing you could answer “Well, someone’s poor enough to appreciate a torn quilt,” and mean it, and think I’m mean for saying so, you are a bad person, and the donation worker should be allowed to kneecap your ass.

Now you know that a lot of clothes and household items you want to donate are garbage. Goooood. They go into garbage bags, along with old papers, chewed paperbacks, 10-year-old sets of bath products, eight-month-old sandwiches, and so on.

If you’re keeping it, have a place and a way to store it, or you’ll be right back where you started.

Honestly, I’m surprised there were only two bags of donations, two bags of garbage, and a pile of boxes. It looked like a lot more all over my bed.

Why do you think you throw away garbage and donate the good stuff? So you have a place for your books, because that’s what closets are for.

Pretty cool, huh?

After the fire, I thought I might not live to 43, I was so depressed. A very smart doctor made the first correct diagnosis of the nature of my depression and changed my life.

Last year at this time, my long time friend Dave Stevens died and I realized I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life (or stb-ex’s) making do in a relationship that depended on me accepting no affection, no passion, and a partner who found me unattractive in the name of “love.”

I think Dave is a shithead for not telling me he was sick, but the way he regretted his life before he was sick, and how he lived it after was a real kick in the ass.

Last year at this time, I and my fellow Comic Book Tattoo contributors were blasting out the best work of of most of our careers, underneath the enthusiastic (or is that passionate? grin grin) leadership of Rantz Hoseley. I was doing my comeback work. We were in CBT Daylight Saving Time: we’d found out we had a month less than we thought. We all still fucking rocked that book. This is important because at this time last year I was completely vapor-locked on my CBT work because stb-ex was gringing about me taking back end pay, how long before I got money, why wouldn’t I do insurance instead? In short, he really did not get how important CBT was and was going to be.

Dave died, I told stb-ex I was divorcing him (for the second time in six months), knew I was not going back, and I was able to work again.

This day two years ago, we moved back into the house. Unlike the day it burned down, which was a beautiful day weather-wise, it was raining. The house burned down on stb-ex’s birthday and we moved back in on mine.

I’ve said it many times before, I’m saying it again, and will say it many more times: there is not a day that passes where I do not think of the generosity and love of strangers and friends, because it is constantly around me.

Thank you all.

BTW, all three pairs have glass lenses with anti-reflective, scratch resistance and UV filter included, photochromic (darkens in sunlight) tint and shipped free. Total cost for all three pairs: a skosh over $100. , half of what my last (discounted) pair cost.

B&W Naughty Nerd:

Orange Lucky Charms:

Shiny Shiny Retro:

More notes at my Flickr set.

If you don’t buy your next glasses from Goggles4U.com, you are just wasting money on a ripoff! (Except for DareDiva, who has a badass script and has to have them made locally.) Just think: the money you save can buy you a commission from me!

Tell me!

As entertaining as drubbing the stb-ex is, I’ve decided not to waste another damn second writing about him. The next time I mention him, barring a 911 call because he does something stupid, is the day I’m officially divorced. We can all wear red dresses and dance.

On to better things!

You know why?

Because you deposited your whole check into your own account, but it’s linked to the joint account. You changed the password on the joint account, but dude, I have all the info I need to change your password because you gave me the ATM card from the old account.

And there I was, staring at the two little boxes where I could change your password and lock you out, and then change the account names to “Naughty naughty,” and “Now I have a machine gun, ho ho ho.”

But I didn’t.

Boy, are you lucky.

I wrote a little something about donations for Karen Ellis for Gail Simone, and it’s now up at CBR with words from Gail herself and Hannah Dame from Girl-Wonder.org.

Even small donations help, and I have the story to prove it!

Go Team Comics!

This past Saturday, I bought a pair of jeans I wouldn’t have even bothered twitching off the pile, a pair I could’ve barely gotten a leg into, never mind over my ass, in December. I was having to hitch up the February pants every few steps.

Glee! Two pant sizes in two months, three in six months. Riding the bike a couple times a week really sped things up. I’m looking forward to what the next six months brings beside replacing pants!

Thank you thank you thank you cars for breaking down and turning me into a walk/bike commuter!