Every morning, after I pour myself a coffee and before I start writing, I check my sales dashboard on Amazon. It’s a little exactly like checking the lottery numbers. I’m happy to win a few bucks—sell a few books—and I’m disappointed with zero, but I’ll still keep playing.
Friday morning, I woke to a lift in sales of Murder on my Mind. I have no idea what caused this, but my dashboard showed me where the sales happened; last week, Canada was my busiest market. I do a happy dance on the couch. Then I head over to Amazon, because I know what a surge in sales means for the charts.
Murder on my Mind hit #18 in the Women’s Health Category on Kindle. Yay me! And Yay to the women who will now find an ally in their menopausal journey. It is so vital to me to see this book in every woman’s hands. Each time a sale happens or someone mentions the book on socials, I get teary eyed. I wrote this book for every woman who suffers in silence, wondering what the hell is happening to them. I don’t offer medical advice. I have no training. All I could do was write about the things I experienced through peri-menopause.
I wrote this book for people like Jean, who was lost and confused and tormented by the changes emotionally and physically. I never imagined my words would trigger a woman to use her voice with her doctor.
I don’t think there’s a better endorsement for an author.
Next up, a realization. I was spending more time blocking bots on X (formerly Twitter) than engaging with actual people. So I dumped the platform. I posted a note on my profile that I can be found on Threads and deleted the app from my phone. I’m keeping the profile just in case I get famous one day. I don’t want a bot taking over my name and pretending to be me. I feel very good about this decision and haven’t missed the platform at all. There was nothing good happening there and I want all the good I can get.
You can read more about Thread in Only Good Things Vol 1.
I changed something else last week: my hair colour.
I neglected to take an after photo in the salon because my stylist and I were in a hot topic discussion about how different life was in the 80s when we kids. We ran wild, read age-inappropriate books (Flowers in the Attic for me, Wifey for her), and always had a quarter in the small front pocket of our jeans (IYKYK, hint: 📞). Also, we are thankful there is no record of the stupid things we did.
I stopped going dark with my hair when I started losing the battle with grey. But when I sat in the chair on Friday, I told Jenn, “Let’s do something fun.” She loves me because I let her decide and play. You can’t see it in the bedhead after photo, but there are copper lowlights running through my hair.
Change is good, and leaving the choice in someone else’s hands —someone you trust—is terrifying and so freeing at the same time. I make enough decisions during the day, so I am happy to leave my hair to a professional. I know in a few of weeks the colour will fade and the grey will poke through. I’m fine, it’s fine, life is good.
When was the last time you let someone else take charge? How did it feel? Hit reply and let me know.
Happy reading, friend!
xo Dana
How rewarding Dana, congrats on #18!