My Worst Trading Day Yet
Before I start, this is not a pity post, and you shouldn’t read it as such. It is, instead, a blog about the realities of running an independent bookshop and what (little) money there can be in it. I will be honest about this, only so that you have a greater understanding of bookshopkeeping. So here we go…
As most of you know by now, I have just two weeks and a couple of days before my little pop-up bookshop closes at The Bloom Foundry. This whole venture has been an experiment, and it has been full of pleasant surprises, and there were bound to be some unpleasant surprises too. But I am a realist and so I need to be honest with myself as much as all of you following my journey. I am a single mum, I have no money behind me, I have created a bookshop with little more than my credit card and a wing and a prayer, but it has quickly become something that I feel has legs.
You may remember a few weeks ago I mentioned that I had an opportunity to go for a more permanent home, well that opportunity came and went quite quickly as all the various bits and pieces that needed to fall into place to create a vacant space for me to move into didn’t happen, and so naturally since then I have been wondering where my little bookshop might call home after December 24th.
And then another opportunity came calling. I can’t tell you where right now (and you know I usually like to tell you everything), but another local trader tipped me off that they were opening another branch in the town centre and suggested I have a chat with the landlord as there are various units going there. So yesterday I went to meet with them.
I have to admit, I felt a bit daunted as I viewed the shop and chatted with them about my plans. This was the moment that I needed to put my (non-existent) money where my mouth is. This wasn’t just playing shop, or fantasizing about the type of place I could create, this was actually rolling up my sleeves and getting stuck into a full lease, annual rent, deposits, shop fit-outs, solicitors, and all that scary stuff. And as much as my enthusiasm for The Book Room has got me this far, as I left our meeting I realised that a permanent home can’t run on enthusiasm alone but hard, cold investment. Or at least decent takings and profit.
My pal Rob, who has been mentoring me through this entire process (you may remember he’s the guy who funded those lovely tote bags you get when you buy a book) keeps asking me if I know what profit I’ve made yet. “Turnover is irrelevent,” he says, “unless you know how much you’re making, you’re just playing at running a business.”
Now, this is why it’s hard because I get wildly different profits from every single book I sell ranging from 25%-60% (very rare that last figure but there is a Christmas promotion with Simon and Schuster). So it is hard to work it out when my ‘accounts system’ is a word processing document where I write down every book I sell, or on a bad day, a piece of scrap paper. Permanent bookshops rely on software from the Booksellers Association which works it all out for them, but I couldn’t pay for that as a pop-up, and I couldn’t join the Booksellers Association without a bricks and mortar premises of my own. Plus, it’s pretty expensive.
Anyway, I digress. So after the meeting with these landlords, my head was busy asking itself these tough questions: how much profit have I made exactly? Have I factored in a wage for myself? What about tax? What about rent? What about the books I will have invested in but will be sure to be left with on December 24th? I still have to pay for them before I have a chance to return them to the publishers.
And on this of all days, I sold in the shop…. two books all day.
Actually, one was an order, so one physical book left the shop. That was a book that cost £8.99, so I probably made about £3.60 on it. £3.60 for working 10am until 5pm – that works out at 51p per hour. And take away the £1-something the tote bags cost and… well, you see why I can’t give up the day job (actually writing books).
No matter, I told myself, I have an event tonight which is sure to bump that figure up. I had been asked by Word Up, the Tunbridge Wells Spoken Word night at the Forum, if I fancied ‘popping up’ down at their December event. Usually the poets who appear there after the open mic has finished have their own books to sell but, as luck would have it, there weren’t any poets with books on stage that night. Perfect, I thought, a room packed with bookish people who enjoyed words, a captive audience.
So at five, I dashed to my mum’s where she’d cooked me tea, and then I dashed back to the shop to pack up my pop up and transport it to the venue. My friend Anna who gave me a lift wanted to buy a book from the shop (cost £12.99), but seeing as she was helping me by transporting boxes of books in her car (I wouldn’t have got many in my little Fiat 500), I insisted she have it as a gift from me – so there went my day’s profit, and perhaps a couple of quid extra too.
But still, all would be well. I had actually woke up worried that morning about selling out of all my stock at the Word Up event – what on earth would my bookshop look like this weekend without any stock?! So I spent much of the day frantically emailing publishing sales reps and checking how quickly I could get stock if I had the (very nice) problem of selling out.
Anyway, we arrived at the Forum just before seven with boxes of books and arranged them all on the stage, and then the room started filling with book lovers… or so I thought.
Reader, by the end of the night I had sold two books. TWO BOOKS.
Actually, one young poet did come over and ask to buy a tote bag.
“You get one free if you buy a book,” I said, cheerily.
He picked up a couple of books and walked away empty handed. Damn, why hadn’t I just made up a price and sold him a tote bag?!
So just after 10pm I started packing my books back into the boxes that they had arrived in three hours earlier.
“Did you sell many?“ the organisers said, their faces quickly falling when I shook my head. To be fair, they couldn’t have given me any more plugs, I even took to the mic myself to remind this word-loving audience that I also had lots of gorgeous poetry books on sale.
So this is the thing, twelve hours working, for a profit of possibly a couple of quid. I felt my dreams of a permanent shop earlier that day drifting away. But I have to remind myself, this is part of the experiment, and this is why I’m sharing it with you not because I want you to feel sorry for me and dash to the shop to buy books (though you can of course do that if you so wish!). But wouldn’t you think that a room packed with book lovers just two weeks before Christmas would be payday for an indie bookseller too? But it turns out not to be the case, and the only way to discover that was to try, and fail.
Two months ago when I started this blog, I wouldn’t have had a single clue, now I have a better one. I see how tough it is for not just indie booksellers, but indie anything. You cannot imagine how our little hearts light up when you cross the threshold into our shops, and how they drop when you leave without buying anything. Sometimes people ask me to get them something out of the window to have a look at, and I bound over all enthusiastic and show them the £6.99 book they want to inspect more closely and try not to drool over that two quid profit that might be passing from my hands to theirs at that very moment, and then they hand it back and say: ‘Thank you, I’ll think about it.’
And I am not judging, because I think back to all the times I might have walked into an independent shop myself and done exactly the same. Reader, I don’t think I would ever do that again knowing what I know now.
Anyway, I don’t want to leave you completely broken by this post, so let’s end on a high. Just as I was putting the last books into my boxes, I had a latecomer to my popped up pop up, and he bought Quentin Tarantino’s new hardback for £25!!!! A whole seven-ish (sorry Rob, I really have no idea) profit for ME! So that made it all worthwhile. And, despite my dismal takings, thank you so much Word Up for inviting me.
Oh, and I am no poet, but seeing as I was attending a spoken word event, and seeing as it was in the very same room I had penned my own poem about five years before, I decided on the spur of the moment to read it to the audience. So it wasn’t a completely wasted evening. If you would like to see me read my silly little poem, you can watch here.
I was completely nervous and my heart was banging out of my chest, but apparently I came across as if I’d done it a thousand times before, when in reality no-one had ever heard that poem except perhaps my mum.
And as for the fancy shop in town and the landlords? I don’t know what to say. I’ll endeavour to try and make the numbers add up by Christmas – I have two trading weeks left so… wish me luck!
More soon…
P.S if you would like to come visit, a reminder that you can find me inside The Bloom Foundry, 55 St John’s Road, Tunbridge Wells, TN4 9TP until Christmas.
P.P.S The website …. let’s not even talk about it, but if you would like to contact me to order anything you can get in touch by emailing: hello@thebookroom.uk
I defy anyone to read your post today and not feel sorry. Enthusiasm, drive, passion, and sheer hard work should have its reward. These are tough times indeed.
I have a friend who did a pop-up bookshop at the Chelsea Show, partly to promote her bookshop. I don't think it was worth her effort and investment, so was quite a disappointment.
You really have worked so hard on this but it sounds like it will need to be a hard headed decision about whether to set up permanently.. I know, from going out with my book, as a self published author, I have none of the resources that a publishing house will throw at one of their titles. Even at an event you might think a dead cert I haven't made many sales. I imagine it's the same for an indie bookshop, you have to make your own publicity, constantly, which is a big ask.I do wish you well, however you decide. Thank you for sharing your experiences. It's been really interesting to follow.