Working the counter at Pegasus Books is exhausting. I don't know why. It's not really that hard on the outside.
People? It was really fun to mix it with people yesterday after my solitary endeavors.
Anyway, I come home and immediately need a nap just to decompress.
New books are selling really well. I think we'll have a record month. I'm preparing to remove used books this fall and make room for more outward display of graphic novels, moving the art books over to the comic half of the store, and opening up room to carry more new books.
Despite tales of troubles in the comic world, they seem to be holding their own in our store.
Surprisingly, new books outsell used book about 5 to 1. Who knew? After all the horror stories about how hard books were to sell, it turns out to be relatively easy compared to say, comics. Order good books and they sell. Heh.
Of course, I have the luxury of not depending on them to pay all the bills, but still.
It wasn't as busy as I feared (hoped) after what Cameron said about the day before. I kept asking people if they were there for the eclipse and none of them were. Too early. Just a busy summer, I guess.
Sold a "Vampire Evolution Trilogy" set and a "Led to the Slaughter." Wow. I seem to be able to sell at least one or two books of mine every time I work. So I could sell hundreds a year (Making 50% on them!) if I wasn't writing them in the first place. A real Catch 22, that.
It's still amazing to me that I worked the store 90% of the time for decades, and 100% of the time for many of those years.
But it also seems pretty damn obvious why I didn't write. I'm drained.
Meanwhile, I keep coming across articles in the paper that confirm some fictional element of a story I've written. The latest is that sea snakes slough off toxic chemicals in their skins from pollution!. (Wish I'd thought of the pollution angle...)
Amazing how often that happens. Inexplicable, really. Extrapolation is a powerful technique.
9 hours ago