Why we carry what we carry, Part II

Ordering is both a matter of math and of intuition. 

The math accounts for most of your orders: I check the inventory of new titles and if the wholesaler has enough faith in a title to carry a large backstock, I am more likely to order. Every week I look over the coming titles and try to order what I consider to be the most important.

For us, that accounts for about 20% of our orders, while the other 80% is restock or books that appeal to me. I'm fairly certain this equation can be reversed for most indie bookstores--that is, most of the weekly arrivals in most stores will be the newest new book, and probably only 20% are midlist. I won't go into all the reasons for this again, but it seems to be our reality.

The intuition part is more fun. It's a matter of, "How clever can I be? What mix of books will both appeal to people and also make our store unique?"

Every store is probably tailored to the owner's interests, at least those still in charge of humans and not algorithms. We all have our biases and our favorites. The test, in a way, is to see if what your favorite is popular enough to sell to others.

Way back in high school speech classes, I listened to a senior expound on the idea that if you like something there's a good chance that others will like it too. That seems to be generally true. Not everyone, but if you aren't too far off the mainstream, enough to keep you going. Or more to the point--the average thing goes by without notice. but there's a good reason you like something enough to mark it.

So I trust my instincts. 

One of the first things I did when first buying new books is start getting titles that I remember liking. I've read a lot of books in my life and I've settled on authors I like, books I adore, and books that intrigued me. 

So that's a good start.

Then I started listening to the customers. I find that almost any book that a customer asks for is something that might be worth carrying. I have to be careful that it isn't something odd that only that one person likes, but you can usually tell. A little research will either confirm or raise doubts.

So I order that requested title and often it will sell to someone else as soon as it arrives and I have to order again in case the original customer comes back. 

I also listen to my quirks. I can't tell the number of times I've ordered something that I was fairly certain only I was interested in only to have a delighted customer find it. That's cool.

I'm partial to art books, for instance. They don't sell fast, but I still like having them around. They make me feel good. 

I guess the point of all this is to say that it's important to have product you can stand behind, even if it isn't the most popular thing around. That's what make it interesting. 

Why we carry what titles we carry.

I went into this a little with the last Pegasus Books post, but thought I'd add some detail.

Because for the first half of our existence we were a comic, card, game, toy store , it's been difficult to get most of the local population to understand that we've added so many new books. This affects what and how we order books.

To put it plainly, the locals don't seem to think of us when it comes to the new bestselling releases each week. As a result, I may sell, at first, one or two copies of these big sellers instead of dozens. We're not the type of store where you will find stacks of the same title. 

The thing is, I can always order more.

What I find is that I will indeed sell the bestsellers, but more often to tourists and newcomers to Bend. Not sure why that is, but that seems to be the case. Fortunately, downtown Bend attracts exactly those customers. 

By luck and happenstance, the main wholesale book distributor (Ingrams) has a warehouse in Oregon. If I order a title before noon, I will get it the next day. So I'm only one to two days from replacing titles. My strategy is to carry smaller quantities of each title knowing I can quickly replace them.

Do I miss sales? Probably, but the other side of this equation is that I'm rarely left with any overstock. So few are leftover that I don't actually ever send books back. 

In other words, I try to be timely and efficient. Get what sells and keep ordering it. 

The other reason I don't send books back is that I get a higher discount from Penguin Random House, the biggest publisher in America. PRH and the publishers they distribute, account for about a third of all the books I order. Unfortunately, the PRH warehouses are back east so it takes a week to ten days to get a shipment.

I'm constantly weighing whether to order on a timely basis from Ingram or a higher discount from PRH. 

Because we don't churn new bestsellers like most bookstores, I try to make up for it by having the broadest selection of books I can, with an emphasis on what are termed "mid-list" books. In other words, instead of having twenty copies of this moment's bestseller, I'll carry a couple and then have eight other titles instead. Broad and thin inventory. 

This allows me to experiment with lots of titles. I cast the net as wide as possible. I'm constantly on the lookout for a midlist book that will sell. When I find one, I add it to the perennials that I keep in stock. 

This also separates Pegasus Books from most corporate stores and even most indie bookstores. We carry a selection of books that is unique to us.

For instance, we have strong SF/Fantasy (as might be expected), Horror, Mystery, and Classic books sections. Lots of YA graphic novels (as might be expected), and even Western and Romance novels. We're considerably more genre oriented than most bookstores.

But we also carry the more literary books--indeed, we probably experiment more with titles than even those stores that specialize in them. 

I admit. I want to be taken seriously as an indie bookstore, while at the same time, I want to seem quirky and unique. 

Frankly, I don't think I can help it.

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,