How we became a pop culture bookstore.

I've decided to write a series of posts about Pegasus Books.

First off, I thought it might be interesting for explore how a store that had sold comics, games, cards, and toys for 25 years became instead a store whose sales are 75% books and graphic novels, while at the same time maintaining the same level of sales on the product we'd always carried.

It was a long process, especially at first, as we sort of tiptoed into becoming a bookstore. 

When we decided to start carrying new books, we started out with classics that were constantly being asked for but which never seemed to come in used. Titles like, "To Kill a Mockingbird" and "Catcher in the Rye." To these, we added other classic authors: Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Steinbeck, and so on. Basically your average high school syllabus. 

We then moved on to our own favorites books: "Lord of the Rings," "Watership Down," "The Once and Future King," etc. 

As we got more comfortable buying new books, we started responding to requests, especially of books that we already knew about. We discovered that these books would usually sell, and it didn't necessarily have to be the people who actually requested them.

As time went on, we realized that some books constantly sold, and that they weren't always the books we expected to sell. Titles like "The Princess Bride" and "Hyperion" and Edith Hamilton's "Mythology." We called these perennials.

By this time, we realized that new books were outselling used books 5 to 1. When Linda sold her used bookstore, we got out of used books completely and turned that space over to new books.

At the same time all this was happening, Sabrina had revived the Manga section, which we had given up on. She too was responding to requests. In fact, the first decade of new books were mostly responding to customers. At the same time as Manga was becoming more popular, so were young adult graphic novels. This genre fit right into what we were already doing.

We began to view the store as a continuum of stories; from books with all pictures to books with all words. It all fit. 

Over time, we added more and more cult authors; Philip K. Dick, Kurt Vonnegut, Chuck Palahniuk, Charles Bukowski, etc. We learned that by carrying almost all their ouvre, we could usually catch even big fans with a titles they hadn't yet gotten. 

Adding to cult authors, we also found titles that were so quirky, that they became bestsellers for us. For instance, our bestselling book of all time is--believe it or not--"How to Talk to Your Cat About Gun Safety."

Here's the thing about perennial sellers: once you identify them, they sell continually. In effect, every perennial we discover is a permanent part of our sales, day after day, year after year. In some ways, our most important job is to discover these titles and make sure we have them in stock. 

Anyway, leading up to Covid, new books had become an important part of the store's inventory. We'd built them up to 25% of our sales. A nice sideline, you might say. We were constantly scouting for more space to display books, because we could sense the demand was there for more books -- but it was a struggle.

When Covid happened, we took the opportunity of the two months we were closed to lay down new flooring. We had to move everything out of the way, so when we put the store back together, we decided to once and for all make the move to new books, but only if we could do it without relegating our main product lines to second-class status.

By having the chance to redesign the layout, we were able to add at least a third more space to new books. Within the months and years following that, we added more and more shelves until we'd probably more than doubled the space for new books. 

Finally, we took the plunge to ordering new books, especially new hardcover bestsellers, on a weekly basis. 

Something extraordinary happened. Tourists and new customers started referring to the store as a "Bookstore" with a capital B. That is, they saw it not as a comic, card, game, or toy store but as a pop culture oriented BOOKSTORE. 

Meanwhile, sales on all the other product continued to sell as the same levels as before. 

Book sales sort of, well, exploded. It was all in addition to what we'd been doing before while our overhead hadn't changed at all. 

We've continued to add more and more features to the bookshelves, started ordering multiple copies of books at a time, and so on. 

In other words, acting like a bookstore, while at the same time not hurting the impression of those who'd always viewed us as something else. 

It's a neat trick, I think.

The Real Luxuries of Life?

"The real luxuries of life:

time 

health

a quiet mind

slow morning

ability to travel

rest without guilt

a good night's sleep

calm and "boring" days

meaningful conversations

home cooked meals

people you love

people who love you back"

 

I came across this on Reddit. It pretty much describes my life, except for perhaps the home cooked meals. Don't do a lot of cooking, but do eat at home, I guess.

More to the point, this pretty much describes being retired. Heh. At least as long as we're healthy.

 

 

Bookstores, bookstores, bookstores.

It suddenly struck me yesterday how rich Central Oregon is with bookstores. Deschutes County has a little over 200K people and is fairly isolated. In this county alone, we have:

Pegasus Books

Dudleys

Roundabout

Underground 

Big Story

Sunriver Books

Paulina Springs

Herringbone

B & N

(I hope I didn't miss any...)

It all kind of crept up on me. When B & N came to town, we had three indie bookstores, all of which went out of business shortly thereafter. Paulina Springs existed, I believe, and probably Sunriver Books. But this growth has been continuous ever since. 

Pretty cool.

Don't wish for a collapse.

I'm seeing this sentiment quite a bit online. I understand the urge, but my experience is that once something collapses it takes a very long time to recover, if ever.

I remember having this discussion with my sportscard wholesaler circa 1990. I mentioned that the industry was so dysfunctional that maybe it needed to hit bottom before it could recover.

"Yeah, me and some of the other wholesalers have been talking about that. Maybe we need it all to collapse so that it can be rebuilt."

So it did collapse, and it's never really recovered fully. It's a full 35 years later and there are occasional surges and it never went away completely, but it's a pale shadow of what it once was.

Over the years I've seen a lot of product lines collapse--I'm watching one right now--and none of them have recovered. A few settled in at a sustainable level, but nowhere near as profitable as they were at their height.

Sure, in the long arc of history, a collapse seem like a blip. But humans don't live in the long arc of history, we live in the short arc of mortality.

Trying to relax. Ordering things at a once a week pace, and not getting ahead of myself. 

Saw there was a new documentary about the composer John Williams and watched it midday, which I rarely, rarely do. 

Made me realize, I am surrounded by art. Movies, books, music. Surrounded. It sustained me in my depressive twenties, especially books, but also movies. (There was a couple years where I literally went to every movie that came to Eugene. Every movie. Only walked out on one.)

There is more art available at this moment than any time in history. Art available to everyone. 

My mom had tons of art books. They were black and white, sometimes out of focus. Now we can buy art books in glorious color. When I was young, I had to stay up late, or watch movies in early afternoon, to see the classics. They used to show black and white films, no problem. I'd mark the TV Guide a week in advance.

My house had tons of books and I could go to the library; even so, I felt as if I bought every mass market SF and Fantasy book I'd find in the supermarket spin racks. I still remember being drawn across a room by the first Frazetta cover I saw.

We had to buy our music in albums. In Bend, we had AM radio, tons of commercials. They rarely, if ever, played funk, or people like David Bowie or Kate Bush. 

Now, it's all available any time I want it. In fact, there is so much art, I find myself seeking silence and solitude. I rarely watch great movies a second time because it seems like my older self picks apart movies I loved when I was younger.

Hard to say all this art has made us better, but it certainly has made my life more enjoyable. 

I'm glad I got to express myself in stories. It doesn't really matter if they were good or not; what counts is that they were a creative thing I did for myself. I immersed myself in other worlds and very much enjoyed the journey, 

 

 A pattern I've noticed. I come home from working at the store all day and I want nothing to do with the TV. I generally take a short nap. I'll turn on the fan and browse the internet or read a book.

It's occurred to me that I'm such an introvert that talking to people all day has completely worn me out and even the voices on the TV are too much. Linda doesn't have the same effect, but the jabbering on TV is just something I don't want; commercials are especially annoying.

I don't know. It's taken me until the age of 72 to figure this out. 

Sometimes, after an hour or two, I can make my way to the couch, but even then, I don't seem to enjoy it as much. I turn my brain off and do coloring. Even when I'm not working, I don't want to watch TV or listen to music during the day. I just want peace and quiet.

The idea that people come home from a day of dealing with people, changing clothes, and going out on the town is beyond me. Todd comes to visit and will get antsy in a very short time, head for a local bar where he doesn't know anyone, and have a great time. 

Wow.

When Linda and I went to Australia for a month, we spent at least three days just sitting in a motel room. At intervals. That's a long way to go to do nothing, but boy did I need it. I needed to shut down. I needed to recharge. 

At the same time, I wouldn't switch to being an extrovert for anything. I'd be a leaf blown in the wind, without agency. Whenever I'm pushed into too much social activity, I feel myself losing my balance, my core. Being an introvert is my superpower, my center, my way of thinking and thriving. I don't get bored, even when I'm not reading. I like my own thoughts, or sometimes my own absence of thought. 

I spent years in my own head, constructing my own stories out of thin air, writing 30 or 40 books, of which 25 have been published. It was utterly satisfying. 

The danger for me is is letting this go too far, of being a shut-in. Isolation breeds isolation. I've always thought that Linda gives me about two thirds of what I need in connection, and the store gives me the other third. When it comes time to retire, I'm hoping we can travel, because that would serve the same purpose. 

It's all about knowing yourself, you're own strengths and weaknesses, and instead of feeling bad about them, taking them in stride and maximizing the best parts. 

Joining the Old People RV tribe?

Back from our four day trial run in the Catbus to Crescent City. Stayed at a campground in Hiouchi, about 10 miles from the coast. Working out the kinks. We didn't really use the water or stove this time; we'll try that the next trip. 

Bumped my head four times, almost fell off the ladder one time, ran over a curb once--had to stop and open a curtain in order to see the traffic while people were waiting behind me. The upper extension is just canvass, so it will be cold in the winter, hot in the summer. The bottom bed has a divider which didn't make it completely comfortable. 

Tight quarters, no doubt about it, which makes me wonder about all the camper vans I see around that are even smaller. 

The driving was easy, but the gas is going to cost us. All in all, I think the trip cost us about half as much as staying in motels would. (But we could probably stay in motels about 600 times for the cost of the Catbus, so a money saver it probably is not.)

This is all for the cat, and Jasper took to the whole thing like a champ. Meowed a bit at the first of the drive, then settled down. Adapted instantly the leash thing. He seemed happy as a clam, which is good since he's the very reason we have the Catbus at all. 

All in all, it's camping, with all the discomforts that imposes. 

I do like the privacy, though...and this was probably the most remarkable thing that happened--suddenly old people were starting up conversations with us. Believe me, I'm not used to that, though it happens more often when I'm with Linda.

I think we've the joined the "Old People" tribe; specifically, the RV Old People tribe. Comparing rigs is de rigueur, apparently. I'm not sure if I like it or don't like it. heh.

We're going to try to fit in short trips at least once a month and eventually make longer trips--maybe much longer trips. 

I think I like it. (I always told Linda to shoot me if I got an RV--but it was either that or never go on any trips again as long as Jasper is with us. And I couldn't quite get myself to smother the cat in his sleep. 

Who I'm I kidding? He OWNS us.