My nightstand, bookshelves, and the to-be-read menu of my browser are littered with primers on peace in the Middle East, investment advice, anti-capitalist and anti-racist explorations, and let’s not forget health in midlife, and how not to leave a mess behind when you die. These are all topics I want to know about. Notice I used the word know and not learn. What I want is a Matrix-style download that will make me a well-informed, better version of myself, but that technology isn’t available to me, so instead, I buy books and add tabs to my Reading List.
Buying a book about something I believe I should know more about makes me feel like I am doing something, or maybe even like I did something to move in the direction of the person I’d like to become. I don’t make aspirational purchases in every area of my life. I don’t book vacations that I don’t take, pay for classes I don’t attend, or buy cleaning supplies I never use. But I do regularly buy books about things I feel worried or anxious about, set them on a bookshelf somewhere, and then avoid them like the plague. There they wait, like a pack of mean girls, judging and evaluating me from the stacks1.
This kind of aspirational book buying has been on my mind lately because I wrote a book about menopause that came out last summer, and it occurred to me recently that it is squarely situated in the “want to have read but don’t want to spend time reading” canon. Menopause is an experience that most people find inconvenient at best. As a person who has been getting the side eye for months from a handful of books on my nightstand–about receding glaciers, non-violent communication, and sexual well-being–I understand not wanting to give your free time to something challenging when you could read or do something pleasurable instead. (Yes, I can see there’s a joke there about sexual well-being and pleasure).
When a friend read The Menopause Companion with his book club2 and reported back to me, one of the responses confirmed my suspicions. One woman said that reading the book made her feel old, not the writing but the topic itself; the reality that the book was relevant to her was an unpleasant reminder of her age. This is one of many reasons why a book about menopause is not the kind of book readers cannot wait to get home and devour. But that doesn’t mean people don’t want to think or talk about it! I know they do; I’ve seen it happen.
Last fall, one of my favorite shops in Portland hosted me for a book event, and it was precisely the kind of experience I’ve always hoped would come out of all of the work I’ve created on menopause. A group of individuals brought their thoughts, questions, and curiosity about a topic that felt challenging to them for various reasons, and we had a lively and thoughtful conversation. We offered each other helpful insights or resources in response to many of the questions, but some were out of our depth.
Even when I didn’t have an answer or a resource handy3, I could offer someone this, “YES, that’s a real thing you’re experiencing. Maybe that is something to talk to a practitioner about. If and when you do- maybe have (fill in the blank) info handy and take notes or record it because when we get nervous–as many of us do at the doctor’s office–we get a little bit dumber, and that makes it hard to learn and process new information.”
The Menopause Companion contains useful information in what I hope is accessible language, but information is not the only thing you need when facing complicated topics and experiences. This applies to everything from bodies to beliefs because we are not cookie-cutter- we do and experience things slightly differently, so “answers” don’t always apply to everyone’s unique situation. The conversation at that book event made me believe even more strongly that when exploring challenging topics, having a place to express oneself and experience connection around the topic is equally, if not more important, than collecting and ingesting information about it.
Where did all of this thinking lead me? To write more about menopause, of course! I made a short booklet to help foster menopause conversations. It’s light on prose and heavy on prompts. Think of YES, You Can Talk About Menopause (a free downloadable pdf) as a handy kaleidoscope that allows you to examine menopause from various angles and perspectives. The questions and prompts I’ve included may not be the exact things you feel pulled to explore, but they may help you triangulate the ones you do want to ask and answer for yourself. Half the deal is getting the muscles going and getting off the quiet couch for long enough to connect with another person or yourself about a subject you’d rather not think about. So please download, use, and share this resource far and wide. If you have questions, peruse the info on my website or contact me directly.
I understand that having, let alone hosting, conversations about menopause is an act of courage, especially if you feel pressure to know a lot or to provide people with answers to their questions. To that concern, I will say that knowledge and answers are helpful but don’t underestimate the power of offering someone a soft place to land and a bit of encouragement to take themselves (and their experience) seriously. That combination on its own can be life-changing.
Lastly, I’ll offer that thinking about resistance to my book–and menopause in general–has prompted me to try different approaches toward some of the subjects I want to know more about but am not likely to read about or explore without support. I accepted an invitation to a reading group that came together to foster a greater understanding of the relationship between Israel and Palestine, and it has me reading not one but two books in the “want to have read” canon. And I’m tackling two other scary-to-me topics, capitalism and death (I know, I’m a barrel of laughs over here!), in small workshops4 led by women I know and respect who have put in a lot more time than I have on these subjects and are now leading others through them.
Maybe You Know Someone Who…
…has written a proposal for a nonfiction book and could use some help preparing to pitch it? I’m looking for someone in that situation. Allow me to explain.
A few months before my book was published, a friend asked me if I had ever considered being a book coach. To which I responded, “What’s a book coach?” Hearing her description piqued my curiosity enough that I looked up the organization her coach was affiliated with. What I learned there sparked equal measures of grief and desire. Writing books has always been immensely satisfying and lonely for me. It’s a privilege to dig deep into an area of interest, but it’s also easy to get lost in my ideas, crater my confidence, and drift far from the track. I had no idea there was an option to feel less scared and alone. It would have been such a gift to myself not to forge through so much new territory–both the material and the process of creating a book–alone.
So, I signed up for a program to learn how to support others through the process of turning their idea into a book and navigating their path through publishing. I’m seeking my third and final practicum client to help me meet the program’s certification requirements. Did I mention that this work is FREE for the practicum client?
At a high level, the person I’m looking for:
Has a complete (read: not necessarily polished, but solid) nonfiction book proposal that is not a memoir.
Is open to considering paths to publishing and developing a pitch strategy for their proposal.
Can dedicate 8-10 hours to this process over three to four weeks.
If you have someone in mind, please send them my way! sashadavies@gmail.com
Do you have mean girls in your stacks? Or some version of this? What are the topics that haunt you….I’m so curious to know!
If anyone wants to create a Menopause Companion reading group- you can get a great discount on three or more copies via my publisher’s website.
For the woman who said she wished someone trustworthy would write a Substack that helped her keep up on developments in our understanding of menopause, this might be just what you were looking for. I’m so glad it exists!
Eating Capitalism is a series of virtual workshops by Megan Leatherman exploring the origins of capitalism and how we can metabolize it, composting what’s useful and discarding what’s not, to make new soil out of the mess we find ourselves in.
Peace of Mind Planning is an in-person workshop by Karen Callahan (in partnership with Heartwood Collective) that walks you through the essential end-of-life planning needs in a small group setting that allows for conversation, personal planning, and answers to any questions that arise.