The central theme of this premiere issue appears to be How much of what we post is us, and how much is a ghost we are chasing? Highlights from the First Run Because this is a debut, there are growing pains—but the hits far outweigh the misses.
Recently, I managed to get my hands on a physical copy of , and I want to talk about why this particular debut feels different from the usual indie flurry.
It is short. It is messy. It made me put my phone face-down for an hour.
Readers wrote in (presumably before printing) asking: "Am I fake if I only post my wins?" The editor’s response is brutal and kind: "The algorithm doesn't want your tears. But your friends do." The "Issue 1" Rough Edges Let’s be honest—this isn't Vogue . The paper stock is slightly too thin, so you can see the art bleeding from the back of the page. There is one typo on page 12 ("thier" instead of "their"). The binding is tight, making the centerfold hard to read.
The standout piece is a silent, four-page comic about a girl getting ready for a night out. She takes 45 minutes to do her makeup. She takes 30 seconds to take the photo. She spends 4 hours waiting for the likes. There are only six words in the entire piece: "Is this me? No. Is it better? Yes." It stings.
There is something magical about holding a Issue #1 . It is a promise. It is a rough diamond. It is the sound of a creator stepping off the cliff of "someday" into the freefall of "right now."
(Deducting one point for the typo, one point for the binding—adding two points for courage). Have you read RealLola Issue #1? Or are you working on your own Issue #1 right now? Drop a comment or tag me in your zine stack.
Hunt for RealLola Issue #1 because it captures a specific moment in internet culture: the moment we all got tired of the highlight reel and started begging for the bloopers.