Catching up with Stimulating Reading

Back at the beginning of the summer I launched another branch of the bookstore fundraising efforts: a project called Stimulating Reading. The idea was that folks could donate their "Stimulus Tax" payment to the bookstore finances, as a way to really stimulate the economy (by opening a new business) and get something back, too. With the help of some designy, techie, and writerly friends, I set up the Stimulating Reading site, where you could choose from an array of rewards, NPR style, for your donations.

Several enthusiastic folks were game, and threw in anywhere from 50 bucks to their entire stimulus check. Their donations didn't reach the critical mass needed to sign a lease or buy inventory, but they did wonders for my morale, and helped that total tick ever higher. I'm inspired by those who gave. My grateful thanks to Andy, Jon, Carl, Brian and Marcela for your generosity and vision.

I knew those stimulus checks were trickling in over the course of the summer, so I've held off on sending folks their rewards in hopes that I could send everything at once. But now I'm ashamed that it's been so long -- those who have had faith in me deserve to see it rewarded. I'm sorting out the list today of who is owed t-shirts, bags, gift cards, signed first editions, etc., and I'll be mailing them out as soon as possible. My apol0gies to those of you who thought I might have scammed you (or that I'm just hopelessly forgetful) -- your rewards are on the way!

That doesn't mean it's too late to jump on the bandwagon, though. Stimulating Reading is still open for business, and now that I've got a system going there should be a smaller delay in you getting what's coming to you. Check out the site for an explanation of the idea and a list of the rewards. And consider doing some "stimulating" of your own!

The joys of signed books

This weekend, I started to catalog my signed books.

As one of the incentives for higher-level donations on my Stimulating Reading campaign, I've promised a choice of signed first edition books from my collection. When you pitch in $600 or above, you not only get the t-shirt and discount card offered with other donations -- you also get to see the list, and pick your prize from amongst them.

I've discovered I have a lot more signed books than I remembered. For eight years of bookstore work, I've hoarded signed copies for lots of my favorite authors at readings, drop-by signings, and book parties. Many, I've discovered, are personalized to me (which I imagine will be of less interest to others, though they are still on the table as potential prizes). But some are pristine signed first editions.

One of the treasures of my collection is this one: the first U.S. edition of Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, signed by Susanna and dated "15th Sept. 2004". In later printings Bloomsbury changed the background color of the cover to black, and the color of the bird and text to white (which really makes no sense once you start to read the story of the Raven King). But that just means that this one is all the more precious. (I've also got a personalized ARC from Susanna, whom I interviewed for Publishers Weekly, but I imagine this one is the more valuable.)

As I moaned over some of the beauties in my collection this weekend, the ALP expressed surprise that I would offer to give away these books that are clearly important to me. But for folks willing to give their entire stimulus check to help my bookstore off the ground, I'm willing to give the best of what I've got to offer. I'm still cataloguing -- who knows what other treasures are hiding on the shelves?

Magic and the Money Thing

So I think it's time for a little background, as I'm working up to chronicling the current state of my bookstore efforts.

Most of the folks I know who have opened up independent bookstores in the last 10 years or so (it may have been different in, say, the 1970s), have had one of two things:

1) a mortgage
2) a well-off relative or friend.

These are traditional and time-honored means of securing capital for an independent business, especially one as high-risk as a bookstore (it also works with restaurants, bars, and other retail businesses).

I have neither of those things.

What I've got is starry eyes, a passion for bookselling, and eight years of experience, which I've purposefully used to the best of my ability to gain the skills I think I'll need to run a great store. And for a long time, I thought that this experience would attract to me the kind of investor who might stand in for a well-off relative, and be willing to put a big (really big) chunk of money into a startup business on the strength of my capabilities alone. I also expected this person to be satisfied with an eventual financial return and the good they were doing for the Brooklyn community, and not take any interest in the day-to-day operations of the business, which would be my domain. Especially after winning the PowerUp! competition, I was certain it was only a matter of time before someone stepped forward to help me take the next step.

The ALP calls this imaginary investor "the magical millionaire."

Clearly, they have not materialized.

This non-happening has, from time to time, made me a little depressed. Why, in a world where people are always investing in crazy ideas, couldn't just one person invest in my seemingly-crazy-but-actually-totally-solid idea? Why couldn't I just find a grant or even a low-interest loan or SOMETHING that would make it easy for me to make my vision happen? Why couldn't I just be born rich?

But when I stop saying "POOR ME!" and my thoughts clear, it's fairly obvious that I need to let go of the magical millionaire, and try something else.

That's where I am now.

Anyone who is going to put money into my bookstore is going to either want some control of/involvement in the business, or the fulfillable promise of a reasonable financial return. I need to figure out how I can give them what they want, while still getting what I want.

Instead of hoping for some goodwill angel investor type, I am now preparing to formally solicit investors (or lenders). The Fort Greene Association is willing to help to connect me with some likely folks. So I'm putting together a prospectus, including my business plan and investment terms. These will include options for loans, payable by promissory note, or equity investments, which will give investors a share (though never a majority share) of the business, and thus its profits.

I spent this morning with a super nice lawyer in Dyker Heights, talking about how to calculate what interest to offer on a loan like this, and how to figure out the value of the business in order to "sell" portions of it to an investor. It's all fascinating stuff, though I'm a bit slow at it (English major, you know -- this math stuff is not my forte. Though I did get an A in AP Calculus, so just skip the blonde jokes.)

In any case, what this means for the bookstore is that since I'm looking at a formal investment process -- or a longer-term negotiation over a partnership, which is another option -- the bookstore isn't likely to get built and open its doors by this fall. Instead, I'm looking at early spring. Give me a few months to connect with investors, a few months to find and build out the space. And even that is dependent on whether I can in fact find folks willing to plunk even small chunks of money into a business with the profit-to-startup costs ratio of a bookstore (and looking at it this morning, I realized it's not super pretty for several years.)



On the other hand, I've already had three good friends approach me, unsolicited, and tell me that they want to put a chunk of their money into the store. They told me to name the terms -- they just think the bookstore is a brilliant idea, and trust that I can make it happen. Their investments alone only get me a few more yards down the track toward my goal, but that's a lot further than I was before.

And a number of people have already "invested" in Stimulating Reading, plunking down your stimulus check in exchange for a t-shirt, a bag, or some swag from my personal library (and you will get it, I promise!) These are even smaller amounts, but they're basically donations, based on the strength of what Andy Laties calls "social capital" -- you all just think I can do it. I'm hoping there's even more out there, as the checks flow in and folks decide that making a bookstore happen is one way to really boost the economy.


So there's no magical millionaire. But there are already a bunch of ordinary folks willing to get in on my bookstore dream. And I think -- and the FGA thinks -- there will be more.

Instead of a wealthy individual, a rich community. That's pretty magical to me.