Instinct versus the tale of the tape.

This is one of those times when I trust my intuitive instincts more than the actual numbers. 

The tale of the tape is actually rather encouraging. Up significantly in January and February, down 3% in March (the previous year had been stupendous), up by 5% in April, and so far this month up by 8%.

But that isn't how it feels. It feels like it is slowing down. 

Things to take into account: the stock market has dropped by 20%; gas prices are over $5 a gallon; the world seems even more uncertain than usual. 

You'd think these circumstances might have an effect.

At the same time, though, I think people will come to Bend despite all that. The type of tourists who shop in downtown Bend aren't discouraged by a bit of a downturn. 

However, I think they are likely to spend less money. 

The other circumstance that I need to take into account is that the store is absolutely packed with saleable merchandise. For probably the only time in our history, I've been able to order everything I wanted, even side products like jigsaw puzzles, enamel pins, and standups. We have significantly more product than last year, especially toys, but also more of just about everything. It's been a virtuous cycle: the more I make, the more I can spend; the more I can spend, the more I can make.

So the feeling of slowdown has to be contrasted to the fact that I have more merchandise to sell. So far these two factors are cancelling each other out. 

I'll just have to play it by ear.

The Sisyphean futility of stocking a store.

Here's the thing, Dunc. You can't both save money and spend it. The store is an unending need. You have to pick a level of shortages that is acceptable, that doesn't really affect the sales level. You've long ago passed that level. I could probably run down the inventory by 25% and it wouldn't affect sales.

Instead, I look at my stock (this week) for authors like Robert Crais, Daniel Silva, Alan Furst, and I see three or four copies, and I'd like to have more like ten or twelve, and so I order more. They are stackable and they fit. 

(It's pretty weird when you order what you can fit in, instead of what you may need.) 

Last week I got a huge order of toys. I spent two days trying to arrange room for them. In the end, I had one small 4' Japanese figure that I couldn't find a place for. I wandered around for an hour trying to figure out a place for that one figure. If anything symbolizes the Sisyphean futility of stocking a store, it's that. (The next morning, I found spot instantly by moving my other Japanese figures slightly closer together.) 

So what did I do the next week? Ordered another huge order of toys. 

I can rationalize this because we spent two Covid years without much access to toys. Stuff I ordered last summer still hasn't arrived and probably won't. Stock while you can! my brain insists.

But it's unending and never quite done. It never will be. I shall have to live with my inadequacies forever, unless I intend to buy every building in downtown Bend and fill them with every book and toy in existence, and even then...

It's my world, and you are my guests.

So I'm working 9 or 10 days in a row. Both Sabrina and Ashley have come down with Covid. They seem to be fine, but...

I hadn't been in contact with either one of them for more than a week, so I've been OK. But 9 days in a row is the longest stretch I've done in a long time. It's turning out fine. It got slow just at the right time.

We're still ahead of last year, which was a banner year, so things are really humming right along. I probably spent too much money stocking up too early for summer, but that should all come back when summer gets going.

It feels slower, but I think that is being equalized by the fact that two record-breaking years in a row has given me the resources to completely and totally stock the store, so sales may not be as fast but they are steady. I think we did a lot of business last year because of my assiduousness in tracking down hard-to-get material. Now that Manga and Pokemon is more readily available, they've slowed down a bit. On the other hand, we really are super-stocked, so I think that makes up some of the lost ground.

Working every day, I can get more into the swing of things. I'm actually quite charming, most of the time. I mean, I've always been socially awkward, but this is my place, and anything you do long enough, you learn to do well. I've learned to turn the awkwardness in humor.  I sometimes have situations where I charmed some folk and they come back and I don't remember them nor am I in quite as expansive a mood, but mostly...with the money problems gone away, it's easier to be comfortable with people. 

It's my world, and everyone is a guest to my place. I like that.

Book Envy

People find it odd to see two bookstores on the same street only five stores away from each other. It doesn't seem to affect us, and I doubt it affects Dudley's. I suspect we're both doing well. 

I probably make less sales to locals than he does; most of my business is drop-ins. As a result, I often see people coming in my store that have already purchased from Dudley's. Again, that is fine: I'm sure the same thing happens to them.

I'm always curious about what the customers are buying. I try to sneak a look. Sometimes I even ask to see. Usually, in a selection of, say, five books, I'll also carry at least one or two.

I drop into Dudley's occasionally, take a look around.

I'm itching to ask Tom, the owner, in Jack Nicholson's Joker voice, "Where do you get all these marvelous books?"

So, for context, most bookstores get the same bestsellers. Not to put them down, but they seem the same. Of course, there are always variations.

We're a bit different in that I concentrate on backlist books. I've tried to have a unique store and I think I've succeeded in that. 

Dudley's has a selection of books that has the new bestsellers but also a bunch of books that, for want of a better word, are "tasteful." I immediately have an attraction to them.

Thing is, until I see them at Dudley's, I didn't know where those books came from. I have a number of lists I check each week, but I somehow miss a lot of the books that Dudley's have. It's different from the book envy I have of Barnes and Noble. They simply overwhelm me with their selection: to the point where going into B & N feels uncomfortable to me. 

Anyway, Tom obviously has lists that he's going through that I'm not seeing.

Big confession here. Because I concentrate on constantly reordering backlist, buying new releases has been more of a hit or miss proposition. Over the last two years I've made a conscious effort to have a good selection of new bestsellers. I pay attention to the "New Next Week" lists from Ingrams and, of course, the NYT's bestseller lists.

Frankly, my space is so limited that a new book outside of those lists has to somehow call attention to itself. When I look at the catalogs, the number of books I want far outstrip my budget. Nevertheless, it's probably time to pay more attention to them.

My biggest trick is to order books that people ask for, even if I haven't heard of them, on the supposition that if one customer goes so far at to request a book, there will be others who want them. I have to be careful to check to see if are viable and not some harebrained request for a book no one will ever want. It takes some overall knowledge and intuition to suss that out.

But in the meantime, I'm always looking for that book that really pops out with attraction.

So Tom Bean, if you're reading this, tell me your secrets!

Non-returnable.

Unlike most bookstores, I don't do returns. At first it was because my volume of new book sales were low and I was being very careful. It was the way I was forced to do it with everything else I sell, so why not books?

But as the volume of orders for new books increased to being the largest part of my store, I started to think I was missing a bet.

So I started to set up a system for book returns. I would need to keep track of the invoices, store the books I intend to return when the paperback version shows up, figure out the procedure, pack up the books and send them off.

When I assembled my first batch of returns, the total credit ran something like 1.2% of monthly sales, but represented at least half a year of orders.

Even if I increase the number of preorders dramatically, which is the main reason I'm even considering doing returns, the credit I'd get would probably never exceed 1% of sales.

So, frankly, it isn't even worth the effort. 

I can keep the books in stock, most of which will be First Editions after all, and if I can sell even a few of them, it would compensate for keeping them. Space is always a problem, but it's a separate problem and one I'm accustomed to dealing with. At worse, I can create a half-off shelf, but I probably don't even have to do that. I simply need to offer a discount to any customer who shows interest in a hardcover book that has a paperback version.

It means being careful. It means doing "Just in Time" ordering. I probably means ordering mostly from Ingrams with two day shipping instead of Penguin Random House with one to two week shipping, even though Ingrams offers 10% less discount. This is more significant a loss than the 1% I lose by not returning books, but is something I pretty much have to do anyway if I want books on a timely basis.

Basically, it means sticking with what is working.

I'm well accustomed to ordering on a non-return basis. In some ways, it keeps me in check. Knowing that anything I order is going to stick keeps me a little more cautious than I otherwise would. As the saying goes, no one ever lost money selling out.

It's probably even more work to constantly monitor sales on a Just in Time basis, but again, it's what I'm used to and I even kind of enjoy it. Versus the hassle of boxing and shipping and accounting that is the return process and which bores me to tears. 

So for now, I'm sticking with what is working. If any of you would like a hardback version of last year's big sellers, there'll be a chance I have one in stock...

Violently racist.

I never had the heart to read the ghostwritten novel I sold to a mainstream publisher. It was either going to be worse, in which case I'd feel bad, or better, in which case I might feel even worse. 

Apparently, my sister, Sue, did buy the book. She said:

"The writing was fine, but the main character had violently racist thoughts. It was the kind of book that would appeal to the Jan. 6 traitors. I thought to myself, 'My dear brother wouldn't write this.' I couldn't get through 20 pages."

Ouch.

But I suspected as much. Between the time I sold the book (for good money) and the time I was asked to rewrite, I'd found out that the "author" was known for his right-wing screeds, essentially what I call "gun porn." 

Too bad. I think is was a pretty good book, expansive and relevant, with a lot of research. I tried to get it back, but when I couldn't, I informed the publisher I wasn't interested in writing a book with a political stance. 

So I never got the second advance. It actually hit the Publishers Weekly bestseller list for a short time, but hopefully the book will quickly fade into obscurity...

A second career of writing anything but fantasy? I never would have thought it.

One of the strangest things that has happened in this my latter day attempt at writing is how little heroic fantasy I ended up writing. In fact, only in the last book I wrote was there a conventional fantasy narrative, and it was more science/fantasy than straight-out Tolkienish fantasy.

Strange because, forty years ago, Tolkienish fantasy was the everything to me in my first attempt at writing. I couldn't really imagine writing anything else at the time.

Something that most younger folk don't understand (and every day that goes by, the more younger people there are) is that there was a brief moment when modern fantasy was in an incubation phase but not yet birthed. LOTR's and the Hobbit hit the USA in paperback form in the early 60's. I think I read them in about 1965 or so.

I went searching for more of that. I know I'll get arguments about this, but at least in my estimation, there wasn't anything else out there. Some SF had great fantasy elements: Jack Vance and Roger Zelazny helped scratch the itch for awhile.

Around 1968 I found Robert E. Howard and the Moorcock, and that also scratched the itch. But sword and sorcery still wasn't heroic fantasy.

But it wasn't really until around 1970 that I started seeing real Tolkienish fantasy hit the market, in dribs and drabs at first, then it started accelerating and then it exploded. 

But before that had happened, I'd already had my plot completely outlined for Star Axe. This was sometime around 1972 or 1973 (before I'd ever heard of Star Wars--thus the Star Axe title.) I tried to write something like Tolkien, without using any of the creatures or terrain. Same thing with Snowcastles and with Icetowers.

When Sword of Shannara came out, I was dumbfounded. "You mean, I can use dwarves and elves? You mean I can actually shamelessly copy Tolkien?"

Seems incredibly naive to me now. Basically, everyone copied Tolkien, with no effort to be different. 

Nevertheless, I read every fantasy that came out for a few years and then I hit a wall. It all started seeming the same--and when it wasn't the same, it was some outrageous switch that usually seemed gratuitous and unconvincing. (Lord Foul's Bane, anyone?)

I know people love these fantasies, but none of them truly impressed me. 

And so in my long hiatus from writing, I drifted away from reading modern fantasy. SF? yes...it has very wide perimeters. Urban Fantasy? a little. Steampunk? Always seemed like an interesting idea. 

Instead, I started reading lots of mysteries and thrillers, mixed with literary fiction and non-fiction. 

Nevertheless, people constantly recommended new fantasy authors as different. They never were. Some were better than others, but none really knocked my socks off. Usually I read the first book and stopped. Again, I'm talking about heroic fantasy, not the many spinoffs, which at least were different.

It wasn't until I was much older that I decided that heroic fantasy was bound by its conventions, and that no one was ever going to match Tolkien within those conventions. Some fantasy could be really well done: The Curse of Chalion by Bujold; Game of Thrones by Martin; Name of the Wind, by Rothfuss, but completely new? Probably not possible.

Nevertheless, I always thought if I ever went back to writing, that fantasy would be my main focus. And indeed, my first two failed attempts were that. But then, I just had the urge to write a vampire story, even when I knew the genre was played out. After that, I wrote a story idea that I'd been thinking about for years: what if the Donner Party had included werewolves? Immediately following that, books about super-intelligent pigs out to destroy humanity? And so it went...

The horror community seemed very welcoming, and I realized that unlike most genres, horror was open to every style and idea. It seems to me to be the genre least restricted by formulas. So I went with the flow.

I still have a hankering to write my grand trilogy in the Tolkien tradition, even though I'm not sure the world needs it. 

It surprises the hell out of me that I wrote so many books without doing a fantasy, though. At least, not one I completed.

But you know what? I wrote the books I wanted, the way I wanted. I don't think any of them consciously followed a formula. I thought of many of them as written in the style of old-fashioned disaster movies: a cast of characters facing an expected and steadily increasing danger. 

All I know is that they were written without regard to convention. They probably are mostly conventional, because I'm pretty conventional by nature. But none of it was cynical, and in all of it I was following my own muse and I was simply trying to be entertaining, if to no one else, to myself.

In that sense, I feel they are "original," whether the end result appealed to people that way or not. 

At the end of the day, I still have a strong urge. I just don't know if I have the time or the grand idea that will hold it all together. If I live long enough, though...