I don’t talk much about my “real” life here. A Dissolute Life Means… is for my heart, my pussy, and my creativity. For you all. Nearly every word I write is true save for some creative juggling for story flow.
For better or worse, what I write here is my life, though – Me – but it never reflects what happens outside the walls of my apartment. Today, I am going to break down that wall a little.
My real life, the one that demands I pay bills on time and keep a roof over my head, is speeding ahead of my slow-moving career and I am forced to open up this space for accepting payments from readers for what I produce here.
That’s the bottom line.
And that bottom line looks like a vast, black yawning hole of failure if I can’t buy myself some more time while I continue to work hard to get my career going full steam ahead.
I wrote another long post apologizing and explaining why I had to do this, but it doesn’t matter. Not really. Simply put, I’m asking for some support if you want to give it.
So, I sit here like an asshole with my hand out. To you, my readers and friends, hoping you have $10 to spare every once in a while for the writer who delivers herself and her art to you every week for free.
I want to cry just writing that sentence. Good thing I’ve squirreled myself away into the corner of this coffee shop.
I did not come to this decision lightly. It’s a sign of my seriousness, the precarious situation that I currently find myself in, that I’m trying to figure out how to monetize this thing that I love so much. — I’ve even asked my exhusband to help with childcare expenses by covering the total for the next six months instead of splitting it with me, but he said No. “You should be able to support yourself. I don’t want to get involved in this,” he said not unkindly. It’s easy to say that when you make six figures; not so easy to hear when you make $0.
But, he’s right, so here I am: asking for you to put a dollar amount to the work I do here, because as much as it’s a labor of love, it is also work. My creative work, to be sure, and I have been only this proud of two other things in my life: Peyton and the fledgling career I’m currently nurturing and hoping more than anything takes flight sooner rather than later.
The only thing I can think of is to call it the Wine and Writing Fund because, let’s face it, I’m not without my sense of humor. And I get fucking thirsty from time to time.
UPDATE: A reader has asked that I tell you how to support me in detail and to also make the button more obvious.
I’ve put a Click Here button on my upper right hand side bar under the Wine and Writing Fund heading. Click there and you can send me a gift through PayPal.
Your personal information will be dumped immediately. Discretion — as you all know — is my middle name.
UPDATE #2 4/23/14: It’s been a little more than a year since I broke down and asked you all for some support and I want to thank every one of you that sent me some. The truth is, however, that I still need it. I am not yet solvent and every month I am in the red and if it weren’t for a savings account I got in my divorce settlement I would have had to move in with my parents two years ago. But that money is now about to run out and I will have no emergency funds in a handful of months. Hopefully by then I will be solvent, but my career cannot be rushed. I am doing literally everything I can think of to grow it (and it is growing), but it moves at a snail’s pace. All this to say, if you can find it in your heart and pocketbooks to send me a few extra dollars every so often, I would greatly appreciate it. xx Hy