Is it indie bookstores versus indie authors?
The world of book publishing and book retailing is battered by many disruptive industry dynamics, leaving so many of the players surviving, succeeding, or failing by the slimmest of margins, or needing to self-finance.
You all know what I’m talking about. Decades ago, you all saw You’ve Got Mail. starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. Since then, you’ve all seen Amazon do to the Fox Bookses of the world what Fox Books did to Meg Ryan’s store in that movie. Just imagine being in that business today.
What’s an independent author (like me) working with a small publisher (like mine) to do?
My new novel The Murder Plague is set to be published Feb. 8, 2024, by Black Rose Writing, a small Texas publisher with a good reputation and a couple of books that hit best seller lists in the past year, yet with very limited distribution and marketing resources and influence compared with the “Big Five” that dominate book publishing. Thus, BRW authors are expected to get out there and promote, promote, promote—not something I know much about, let alone something I’m any good at.
This week I started cold-calling local bookstores in person, for a couple of reasons, but, for the purpose of my book, to ask: “What should I, as a local, independent author being published by a small publisher, do to help arrange for your store to carry my book?” I visited about a dozen bookstores.
Frankly, the responses I got were reversed from what I had expected.
I was graciously received by managers at two chain, big-box bookstores. In each, the appropriate manager was summoned to meet with me. She took my card and flyer, and gave me her time. She explained policies and procedures, answered questions, offered encouragement, and made suggestions. I received no promises; I understand that. Nothing in writing. But at least I walked out feeling respected.
I received varying but generally much-lesser levels of respect from local independent and used bookstores. A couple of them rather rudely dismissed me, in my view.
In one bookstore, the owner told me that she was too busy to talk with me. At that moment, there were no customers in the store. None. It was just her, some guy busy behind the counter, and me. She told me to email my questions. I thanked her. I left. I emailed. I await a reply.
In another store, the person behind the counter told me that I needed to go online and fill out their questionnaire. That was the end of that conversation, other than thank you.
Back home, I found the questionnaire off-point for what I wished to talk with them about. Feeling doubly dismissed—although maybe just misunderstood—I called that store’s owner. We had a long, frank discussion about those disruptive industry dynamics (see above), and nowadays’ nearly impossible challenges and tribulations of the local, heroic, small, independent, community-based bookstores. They don’t get any price breaks from publishers or distributors. They don’t get the marketing muscle. Their distributor deals are structured differently. Their margins are tiny. They face all sorts of other disadvantages. Amazon is stealing everybody’s market anyway. I allowed all of that. I expressed my support for her and her store.
She explained how she wanted, from the start, to support local authors, and that she and her bookstore have done many things for them.
But.
Then she came at me with brutal honesty. For local, heroic, small, independent, community-based bookstores such as hers—unfortunately, sadly, regrettably—books from independent authors such as myself are simply, far too often, more trouble than they’re worth. She used to try to carry all our books. Not so much, anymore. Too often, our books don’t sell from her shelves. Too often, they take up valuable shelf space until she’s forced to return them or find some other way to unload them. Stocking them is too tough, with her margins.
Apparently, local indie authors can inundate local indie bookstores such as hers. She simply doesn’t have the staff to vet their books, and therefore there’s no way her staff can effectively promote them.
Thus: she provided rationale for the dismissiveness I experienced at her store. Likewise, her answer made sense of the disinterest or even disrespect I sensed too often from other small bookstores.
They’ve come to view most independent authors as money holes.
Get away! Ugh.
That circles me back to something I heard my publisher say at a writers’ conference. It baffled me until now.
He essentially discouraged independent authors from trying to sell books through local, heroic, small, independent, community-based bookstores, either on distributor or consignment bases. He warned such deals typically produce negligible sales. Too often, those bookstores return their copies, either back to the author, or, through those differently-structured distributor deals, back to the publisher. Then he has to eat or deep-discount returned books by the boxful.
Is there a schism? Are local indie bookstores and local indie authors writing each other off?
It would seem to me that any local grocers that don’t stock foods from local farmers, or any local art galleries that don’t hang works from local artists, or any local crafts shops that don’t feature items created by local craftspeople are all, at best, underserving their communities.
Why must it be different with local bookstores and local authors? Must local bookstores knee-jerk eschew local talent because it’s so difficult to vet all the material? Must local writers ignore local booksellers because no one shopping there is going to buy their books anyway? Is that what economics demand?
For now, I urge:
Support your local, heroic, small, independent, community-based bookstores.
Also, support your local, starving independent authors—even if you can’t do it through the independent bookstores.
(The Murder Plague is available for pre-order at Black Rose Writing and from Amazon and Barnes & Noble. I still expect—hope, intend—it also will be available at bookstores big and small near you.)
