As a literary agent at Writers House, I run among my circle of editors, publishers, agents, publicists... and oh yes: authors! Our company represents Stephenie Meyer, Ken Follett, Michael Lewis, Nora Roberts, Christopher Paolini, Rebecca Skloot, Neil Gaiman, Dav Pilkey and many others. But there's one creature that I've rarely met: the independent bookseller. So recently I decided it was time to take a walk on their wild side and visit a bookseller for a week.
Full disclosure: This mission--much like this article--started with a shameless ulterior motive. I wanted to push copies of my authors' books. In October 2008, my friend Nikki Furrer opened an adorable store in her hometown St. Louis called Pudd'nhead Books (Shelf Awareness, August 12, 2009). When she invited me to visit, I laughed. After all, between her store and my office in New York, we often trade messages that require an agent-to-bookseller translation.
Me: Have you read this exciting debut novel that sold for a zillion bucks last year?
Nikki: Dan, I can't give that book away.
Or:
Me: Publisher is printing my author's paperback with a shiny step-back! So exciting!
Nikki: Dan, in the store, we call those "1 out of every 5 is damaged."
But one day, Nikki and I were discussing a debut novel by my author Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani: I Do Not Come to You by Chance. (If you loved Little Bee, please read Adaobi's wise and hilarious novel.) "Oh, Dan," Nikki said, "No one wants to read about Nigerian spammers." I sputtered. I fumed. "I'm getting on a plane," I said, "and coming to sell that book properly!"
So I did, bringing along a big pile of my authors' titles, and showed up at Pudd'nhead Books on Day One like the first day of school. I sell to editors all the time. How hard could it be to sell to customers?
My first customer was a nervous man who burst in, saying, "My wife's in labor. I need something to read!" (I was curious why he wasn't at the hospital, but I didn't ask.) I handed him a copy of Leonard Mlodinow's The Drunkard's Walk. "Looks good," he said, bought it and left. Swish!
Beginner's luck, it turned out. I had my own agenda, but--wouldn't you know it?--customers arrived, one after the other, with agendas of their own! For a literary agent, getting used to other people's agendas is a learning curve.
One remarkable bookseller talent I quickly noted was Nikki's ability to pinpoint a book based on the most random description.
Customer: "You know that book? About work? And Bill Gates?"
Me: (Sweating)
Nikki: Outliers!
Happily, when a customer asked for that "novel about the talking dog," I identified The Dogs of Babel by Carolyn Parkhurst. (I know her agent.) Later, a customer came in for a coffee, and--hooray for the upsell!--I sold her a copy of Broken for You by Stephanie Kallos when, as we chatted, I learned she was an actress with a librarian girlfriend. (Booksellers, if your customers love Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Patchett, be sure to have Stevie's book on hand!)
One of the most time-consuming aspects of my job as an agent is discussions about book jackets. We cajole and nitpick and spill blood and scream over these covers. Working in Pudd'nhead Books solidified my resolve to stand firm when a cover is not yet perfect. (Nikki has a shelf called "Bad Cover, Good Book." Brilliant!) Here's just one example: HarperCollins has graced my author Jennifer McMahon's novels with jackets that sell themselves. Place four books in the front of your store and include Jennifer's first bestseller, Promise Not to Tell--you'll see nearly every customer walk over to Promise first. I guarantee it. (Booksellers, if your customers love Gillian Flynn or Tana French, they'll be spellbound by Jennifer's poignant, creepy novels.)
I have lived in New York for almost 10 years, and nothing I ever saw in the mean streets of Manhattan terrified me more than my experience...
Of trying...
To sell books...
To children.
Kudos to Pudd'nhead's Melissa Posten, who is a master at selling children's books. She talks a mile a minute and reads twice as fast. Effective book jackets help here, too. Hand Toys Go Out by Emily Jenkins to a child--sold. Same with If I Built a Car by Chris Van Dusen. I watched three copies sell in just one week--in fact, in less than two years of business, Pudd'nhead has sold more than 150 copies of this book. I learned fast: my big mouth proudly sold copies of The Phantom Tollbooth and my author Ingrid Law's Savvy.
Another fascinating lesson: boys are notoriously reluctant readers, the numbers tell us in New York--but if they're already in your store, they'll respond to a great pitch. Perfect example: Hero.Com and Villain.Net. Kids who download superpowers. Wham, bam, sold! Girls read more voraciously, the numbers tell us in New York, but they are tough customers. I have experienced nothing in this lifetime more ego-crushing than standing in the bookstore trying to sell books to fresh-faced, rosy-cheeked, pink-bedazzled little girls.
I felt most like a literary Jane Goodall in the bookstore mist watching Nikki meet with a sales rep. This isn't the time or place to discuss live reps versus phone reps--at Pudd'nhead, I saw merits to both--but the very glaring lesson for me was simply: Are there reps? The Penguin Group has three reps that visit Nikki's store. Some other major houses, I learned, don't send her even one. No doubt, the national accounts are going to drive success for many books. But for others, it's the indies with the big mouths that make all the difference. Nikki was obsessed with Ron Currie, Jr.'s Everything Matters! She may have sold more copies--more than 150 in hardcover, no less--than some national accounts.
I learned that some customers are perennial browsers and some are serious buyers. I met customers who demanded recommendations but refused to be impressed. In New York, we talk so glowingly of "the power of book clubs" that the very name conjures up for me an image of darling women around a sepia-colored, brownie-filled, apron-festooned kitchen. But at Pudd'nhead, I met the Book Club Shit Talkers. Life will never be the same.
The biggest lesson came courtesy of a novel called Mudbound by Hillary Jordan. I have no connection to this book; I bought it on vacation in San Francisco (shout-out to Habitat Books in Sausalito!) months before my Pudd'nhead mission. It's a heartstoppingly, devastatingly wonderful book that still burned in my head. I sold more copies of this book than any other. When one customer told me, "I just read To Kill a Mockingbird," my recommendation was Mudbound. When another customer told me her book club had just read The Help, the natural connection was Mudbound. (It was already in paperback and even had the same orange palette.) And when another customer--a minister--told me he wanted "a book that will teach me about the reality of our world and humanity, but without preaching to me," I resisted the temptation to run sobbing to Nikki for help; I just handed him Mudbound.
When I got back to New York, I realized handselling at Pudd'nhead has made me think in new ways about how I sell books to publishers. And here's another handsell: my author Tiffany Baker's glorious novel The Little Giant of Aberdeen County is now out in paperback and is available from her agent. (P.S. It has a shiny step-back!)
--Dan Lazar