This is a relaxed, summer-Friday kind of post, and if you wander through it, it just might connect to books and bookselling somewhere down the page.

Back in the late 1950s, my dad and his friend, Tim Sharpe, decided to see if they could start a fad. They both worked on the college paper, so finding a word or phrase to foist upon the Indiana University population seemed a natural choice. Somehow, they lit on the phrase, "The thing is…" as their devilish weapon, and set out to see if they could get it to catch on. They used "the thing is" in articles, interviews, at parties, and so on, and sure enough, it began cropping up all over the place, seeping into the collegiate lexicon. I find this inspiring, if not exactly inspired.

Over the years, I’ve collected my own set of things I would like to change on a wide-scale basis, and now that there’s this opportunity, this forum, this platform for devious idea propagation (I’m talking about Shelftalker here), it is time to crack my knuckles, rub my hands together gleefully, cackle a bit, and begin the mitosis.

There’s a mini-revolution I have wanted to start for quite some time, because I think it’s an excellent idea and might cut down on road rage, specifically mine. I’m talking about changing our habit of flashing brights at other drivers. Nothing is more instantly infuriating than someone flashing his brights at you at night, especially when you don’t have yours on, or you’re right behind a car that does. The initial flash is usually quick and well-intentioned. But then, if you don’t respond immediately, there’s a second brights-attack: overlong, self-righteous, vindictive, dangerous. Brights wars are blinding, and create instant anonymous enemies.

So try something different, something small and easy and, I humbly submit, brilliantly diplomatic. Instead of flashing my brights, I just flick my headlights off and on. It’s just as fast and gets the message across without arising ire. How cool is that? I know that signal is also used to indicate a police trap ahead, but drivers are smart and can figure out what you’re signaling through context, much the way readers confer meaning to unfamiliar words. (Ha! Like how I did that? Connected driving to reading? Cha.)

Okay, it’s not exactly inventing the concept of micro-loans or inventing easier ways of distributing water to thirsty villages (Play Pumps, rolling barrels, etc.), but hey, it could keep someone from driving off the road blinded, or pulling a pistol out of the glove compartment, or, or… becoming vexed, I will be one happy guerilla. So, DOWN WITH BRIGHTS! UP WITH OFF! I doubt I’ll sway the drivers who enjoy these little nighttime duelling matches, but if I can at least get the mild-mannered people of my town to (not) see the light, I’ll be delighted. If you feel as I do, spread the gesture! See what happens.

My second small-revolution idea comes from an eco-conscious customer, who mentioned a cooking show host adjuring people to cut their pasta water quantity in half. Yep, that’s it. You need about half the amount of water for your pasta and potatoes that recipes call for. There’s an easy way to conserve water that I never would have thought of, and am happy to pass along. Someone Twitter it, would you? Think how much water could be saved even if word got out only in Manhattan. I lived there for years; I know how much pasta you NY people eat. Many social movements use rhyming slogans to get the message across; everyone learned "Loose lips sink ships" in history class. So here’s my (tongue in cheek) offering: PASTA (NOT RICE): HALF THE WATER IS NICE! See? Pass it along. It’s stupid, but you might well remember it next time you pull out the penne.

Thirdly, I recently got my dander up about the phrase, "Man up." It’s a great phrase, fun to say, punchy, economical—a happy coinage all the way around. But it also happens to leave out the half of the population that does truly, wildly "man up" kinds of things like, oh, say, pushing live baby people of out a canal the size of a nickel on a regular basis. I’m already straining the sensibilities of this distinguished publication with that last sentence, I’m sure, so I can’t in fact share my solution to the "Man up" problem, at least overtly. "Woman up" doesn’t cut it, by the way. It just sounds lame, and like it’s trying too hard. That extra syllable drains all the punch out of the thing. "Girl up?" I picture a kid in braids. "Chick up?" I don’t think so. Sounds like you’re about to grab stilettos and a purse. Why are so many of the synonyms for women diminishing? Hmm, "Gal up?" Maybe if you’re on a horse. 

At the risk of offending the faint-of-heart and damaging my professional reputation, I will merely hint that my one-syllable replacement for the word "man" in the phrase starts with a "v" and rhymes with "badge." It’s jaunty, naughty, too crass for polite company but excellent as a surprise laugh-getter at a pub when your female buddy is lining up that perfect two-ball shot to the side pocket, or for psyching yourself up for a particularly unsettling task. "Just __ up, baby," you tell yourself, "You can do it." And then you roar in a Helen Reddy kind of way.

So, "BADGE" UP! It’s about time.

Fourthly, I think we should all read one book in a genre we think we dislike, and possibly surprise ourselves.
For example, adults who dismiss children’s books have a huge treat waiting in store for them; I love seeing the light go on once they discover the challenge and artistry in great writing for children. Of course, I think we should buy those books at an independent bookstore, because we can get knowledgeable recommendations from someone there who will be able to tell us which of the genre’s titles we are likely to enjoy. And then I think we should come back here and post which books we read and whether or not we still hate that genre. No fair picking the worst of the bunch on purpose. You must make an honest effort. So challenge your friends and yourself to BRANCH OUT WITH BO
OK
S just once this summer.

So, to recap:

DOWN WITH BRIGHTS! UP WITH OFF!

PASTA (NOT RICE): HALF THE WATER IS NICE.

‘BADGE’ UP!

BRANCH OUT WITH BOOKS

Finally, I just need to report that yesterday, we received a strawberry-apple-rhubarb pie and some gourmet ground coffee from a customer who was thanking us for giving her an ARC when she was having a bad day. How lovely is that?! You publishing types may be off to the Hamptons in jitneys, and for that, we retail weekend warriors envy you, but this Saturday and Sunday, we, too, will enjoy the fruits of our labors. Literally.

Now, go forth and foment! Or start your own. What’s your revolution?

Owning a bookstore, while lovely, comes with a lot of stuff. Catalogs, more catalogs, publisher kits, and galleys — lots and lots of galleys. I love getting galleys, don’t get me wrong. It’s really important to read the books before sales meetings so we can make intelligent decisions about what to buy and in what quantity. And I still thrill at reading a book six months before it comes out. After 13 years, I’ve got some treasures — a galley of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963 and Because of Winn-Dixie, to name just a few. These are galleys that we’ll always keep. Then there are the galleys I enjoyed, but don’t want to keep, add to that the galleys I didn’t have time to read in 1998, and the galleys that don’t fit with my stock, and I’m basically drowning in them.

But, I cannot throw a book out, even a galley. I can’t do stripped cover returns because you’re supposed to throw out the books after you mail the covers to publishers. I just can’t do it. So now I am left with mountains of galleys that have literally taken over my mud room. I actually put eight feet of shelves in there, so the galleys would have a home. The shelves are already full with last year’s and this year’s galleys. Elizabeth and I have a new system: we keep galleys for this year and last year. The rest now need homes.

I try to give away as galleys as I can at teacher’s nights, but honestly, that’s just a drop in the bucket. The past two years I’ve given away the rest, box by box. I know you can’t give galleys to libraries or schools, but there are lots of other worthwhile places to give galleys. Elizabeth and I try give as much thought to our galley gifts as we do to customers in the store. In the fall, the Vermont prison system got three boxes of galleys: one for the men’s prison, one for the women’s and one for the high school. Prisons are often an underserved institution. And because children visit their parents, kids’ books are fine to donate. 

I like to give boxes of books to our local Ronald McDonald House — lots of picture books for the kids, lighter fiction for older kids and easy reading for the adults. We have a massively long stapler that makes stapling F&G’s very easy. This way the picture books read like real books. This past spring we gave a box of galleys to a customer who works with at-risk youth teaching them reading and poetry. This box had a range of reading levels from age eight to adult; all the books were a real hit and we got the nicest thank-you letter. One thing we do to cut down on the shipping costs, although media mail isn’t that much these days is have a local contact for the organization pick the books up. They’re happy to do it and saves a little time and money.

One of my favorite things to do with galleys, especially ones that are for the current year, is give them to one of my kid customers to read and review. I try to be organized enough that I’ll get the buy/not buy reviews in time for my actual meeting. I’ve got an amazing 12-year old right now reading for the store this summer. Her reviews are so well written and thorough I feel I’ve read the book. Her comments are great: "Would be a great book if I were an eight year old boy. I’m not, but I liked it anyway, in a simple way." I have one boy who just puts a post-it on the galley with a very simple YES or NO. Sadly, his reviews, brief as they are, tend to get to me about a year after I need them.

Obviously, our staff takes galleys, but we have a rule at the store — if you take a galley home, you have to find it a new home, it cannot come back to the store. I counted the galleys in my mudroom and I’ve got over 300 just for this year alone. Lots of galleys and lots of great books. Fall is looking awfully good. A year from now, I’ll have to find places for all of these books. But for now, I can enjoy them.

I’m always curious what other stores do with their galleys. If you have a second, I’d love to know how your store deals with them.

I was planning to post something very summery and blueberry-related today, but that will have to wait. A queasy-making tidbit of information earlier this week about the possible next evolution of e-books led to discussions among horrified readers and booksellers: specifically, Amazon’s purported contemplation of adding advertisements to the "pages" of Kindle e-books (more on this in a moment).

While our reaction was universally negative, one bookseller colleague did more than recoil, exclaim, shudder, and back slowly away from the news item. Kenny Brechner (owner of DDG Booksellers in Farmington, Maine, and co-chair of the New England Children’s Booksellers Advisory Council) borrowed Jonathan Swift’s pen, and his message is too funny, too timely, and too terribly apt not to share with you. The blueberries can wait.

Kenny writes:

***

This is a quick post about the art of upselling. Upselling means getting customers to buy a little more than they came in for. As I told my staff, if we can get six customers to buy one more $15 book or toy, that’s almost a hundred dollars more towards the store’s bottom line. Do this every day and you’re suddenly having a month that’s three grand better than it would have been.

Upselling isn’t hard selling. There’s no buyer’s remorse involved — that should never happen at any store. Customers should leave content and happy with their purchases, not feeling queasy because they bought too much, or bought the wrong thing.

Upselling is asking questions and knowing your stock. A grandmother was in the store yesterday and she had been offered help and said she was okay. I came in and saw her and asked if she was finding everything. The fact that she was going book by book in the transportation section let me know she had only a rough idea of what she wanted. She said, yes. I pressed gently, "How old is the child?" Well, they were her grandsons ages three and four and she wanted a book they could share, but didn’t know what the family already had. I suggested a truck matching game that we had four of, that’s great but wasn’t selling. She bought that, as well as a truck hardcover. If I hadn’t mentioned it, she would have never found the matching game or been really happy about it. And then, because she bought two things for them, she bought two things for her granddaughter.

Another family came in yesterday looking the picture of summer: a mom and three sons. The older boy found something right away, but the little guy was having a hard time. He was offered help, but shyly said no. His mom had tried to get him to choose a book. Finally, the family was checking out, and this little guy looked so sad. I asked him, "Are you sure you don’t want a book?" He looked at his mom and she nodded it was okay. Well, now the whole family got involved, telling me what he liked last month and how well he reads. I gave him The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles and he took it and looked pretty happy about. Then I remembered A Barrel of Laughs, A Vale of Tears and ran to get it. I showed it to him and included the whole family in my little book talk. They bought that, too.

Upselling takes handselling up a level. It’s being aware that your customer is looking for something they don’t even know they want. It’s asking someone who’s buying books for other people, "What about you? Do you need a book?" Sometimes, it’s just getting them to talk more about who they’re buying for. It’s the enthusiasm and art of handselling with a keen business eye (don’t recommend things that are you’re out of) and soft touch. While I didn’t upsell six people yesterday, (I only got to four), I did earn the store about $75 more just by asking questions and listening. It was a pretty good day.

In a previous post, After BEA, the Work Begins, I mentioned a list of things I had hoped to accomplish after the trade show. I thought I’d give an update. Well, I’m happy to report, I’ve made some progress.

Teacher outreach has been oddly successful. In my other life I am a stand-up comic who also teaches stand-up comedy. One of our staffers met Elaine, the local school superintendent, at the store for lunch two weeks ago. I saw this as a golden opportunity to plug the store and my teaching as a staff training exercise for teachers. Elaine was intrigued and politely nodded. Well, she called me the next day and asked me to teach all sixteen principals in my county stand-up comedy at their annual retreat. Wow.

All sixteen principals in one place! It was heaven. I taught them comedy, they laughed and they did well, I plugged the store and all were receptive to me following up with them about the Flying Pig. I handed each one our last newsletter, a Flying Pig pen and our teacher brochure — if you work with schools at all, make one of these. It’s easier than explaining over and over again what your discount policy is, and it’s a tangible thing teachers can take back to the business office. Plus, it makes you look very professional. I made a real contact with the curriculum and development staffer and we’ve set up a meeting later in the summer to discuss how the Flying Pig can provide Continuing Ed credits to teachers.

My point is, if you do more than work at the bookstore, offer that skill, i.e. book talking, creative writing, team building skills, etc., to the schools and it might be a way to get into the school system. I know of one organization that hired a belly dancer to break up an all-day conference. Every time the principals or teachers see you and have a good experience, they are more likely to want to do business with you. I’ll continue to update as the news warrants. I’m viewing getting into the schools as building one relationship at a time. It’s a slow process, but I’m ever hopeful.

Trade show specials have been a huge boon for us this summer. I did the math and we’ve saved well over $1,000 on orders just since June 1st just by taking advantage of backlist deals. Sometimes, it’s too easy to just go to the distributors, but we’re now rotating all the major publishers weekly to maximize our discounts. Random House, Penguin and Simon & Schuster are pleasingly speedy.

We’ve also done two Business to Business orders for bulk orders, and that saved us hundreds. Business to Business is offered by most publishers and it’s a great way to save money on single-title orders of at least fifty copies per title. Every publisher is different on their rules on their Business to Business, so ask your rep about the rules. This is also a great thing to remember for the holidays and corporate giving.

Yes, while it may be the heart of the summer, it’s actually time to start thinking about the fourth quarter, if you can believe it.

What’s it like to spend every day drawing comics in the company of and under the tutelage of other comics pros? Last November my fiancé Gareth Hinds and I got a taste of this life when we spent the better part of a day at the Center for Cartoon Studies in White River Junction, Vt. We were there to give a joint lecture (our first!) to CCS students as part of their "Professional Practices" course, at the invitation of CCS Fellow Alec Longstreth. What we quickly discovered was that our hour-and-a-half talk could easily have been twice as long, given the amount of material we had to cover. Gareth talked about his experiences with both self-publishing graphic novels and working with a traditional book publisher (Candlewick), the process of how he creates his work, what digital tools he’s currently working with, and more. I talked, as a retailer, about what trends I see in the world of comics and graphic novels (in particular what I see as it pertains to kids), what I look for in a book as a buyer, what seems to be selling, what really irks me, etc. I brought examples of both good and bad graphic novels currently on the market for kids, plus a handful of comic book-inspired picture books to pass around in an informal "show and tell." 

After our lecture we got to chat briefly with James Sturm (affording me the opportunity to gush, again, about my love for Satchel Paige: Striking Out Jim Crow). When I asked James what he’d been working on recently, he explained that he’d just completed a how-to book for kids about drawing comics that had been a unique challenge for him, one greatly aided by the input of his own children. That book, which you’ve already guessed if you read my blog post from last week, is Adventures in Cartooning, a book that I’m calling one of my favorite books of the year. (As an aside, I’m also saying that about When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead. Have you read it yet?? It is SO COMPLETELY WONDERFUL!! But I digress…)

After our short talk with James, Alec swept Gareth and me off on a tour of CCS and walked us through the gist of the program, which looks like one SUPER COOL "school" if I do say so myself! CCS makes its home in the small town of White River Junction, a short drive from Hanover, N.H., home of Dartmouth College, and an even shorter drive from The Norwich Bookstore in Norwich, Vt. (one of my favorite independent bookstores — stop in and say hi to Penny and Liza for me). This is an area I came to know quite well during my days as the Children’s Book Buyer for the Dartmouth Bookstore, which was then an independent but is now (sadly!) a Barnes and Noble. At the time (eight years ago), White River Junction was a rather depressed place — a small railroad town with a few unique jewels in its battered little crown, but too few attractions to draw many visitors. The arrival of CCS and a number of other creative collectives, though, have helped to breathe a bit more life into the place, making it now a much bigger draw for artists and independent businesses like the chic and cozy Tuckerbox Café (where Alec, Gareth, and I enjoyed a very tasty lunch). The town even received a few recent accolades in Budget Travel Magazine, who called it one of the "10 Coolest Small Towns" (population under 10,000) in the country.

By following the very quaint-sounding directions "At the Polka Dot diner, veer right," it’s easy to enter White River Junction and make your way to the front door of the CCS central hub, housed in a former department store called (seriously) Colody’s Surprise Department Store. ("Surprise! We’re a department store! Sorry if you came here seeking groceries.")

If Colody’s complete name doesn’t have a kicky comic book feel to it, I don’t know what does. Even the fonts on this old sign (which is hanging up inside CCS) scream comics to me — especially the  "FOR THE ENTIRE" bit.

The room below is a lecture room on the first floor of the main CCS building. And that’s me, standing at the front of the room, gesturing about… something.

In the hallway outside that lecture room hangs a small, changing gallery of original art by great comics artists.

The page below was drawn by Craig Thompson of Blankets and Goodbye, Chunky Rice fame. I’m looking forward to the future publication of his book Habibi, of which there are periodic sneak peeks on Craig’s blog.

Here we are now in the basement of CCS where it’s a clear a LOT of work gets done — some of it digital (see the assorted computers and scanners in use below)…

and some of it manual, as these various book-binding apparatuses would suggest.

Now we’ve left the main CCS building and walked a short distance up a side street to a different building. Of course, you wouldn’t know we went outside and walked a short distance, because I was too interested in our conversation with Alec to have remembered to have taken any photos during that part of the tour. (Oops.) This building is home to "The Inkubator." This is studio space where students (and maybe recent alumni…? clearly I should have written this post last November!) can ruminate and sketch and research and sketch and ruminate and sketch and so on.

The place was empty when we were there so it had this sort of "holy" feeling to it — quiet and filled with the glow of softly filtered light. (Insert sound of angels singing here. Singing about comics, that is.)