I'm Still Alive!

After not posting on the blog for a week, all I can do is take one from my grandma's mouth and say que verguenza! Some of you who know me in person know that I've spent the last week pretty under the weather. I missed most of my MFA classes, which was upsetting, and could burst into bitter sobs at any moment, like an exhausted child. (My poor husband.) Clearly, it was not the most productive week for me, and I'm sorry to say that posting fell by the wayside along with everything else.

But I'm back! I'm thrilled to say that my Facebook Page has more than 160 fans, some of whom have been interacting with me and one another on my Wall. And it's humbling that, when I review the fan list, I see that many have been, up to now, complete strangers to me. So thank you to everyone who is taking part in this journey with me.

I mentioned in a recent post that my sister, Amanda, has the opportunity to work with a project plan expert, and she's chosen the bookstore as her project. The development of the plan began last week, and she called me with a few well-edited questions to get things going.

"I know you're going for financing through grants and loans," she said, "but how much money do you think you'll need?"

It's a good question, and one whose answer I thought I would share with you all. By my estimates, I will need approximately $1.7 million to get the bookstore up and running. I have two favorite locations in mind, one of which would require the purchase of land and new construction, and the other which would be leased. If I go with the first, I expect to pay $750K for the land. Then I believe construction of a 6,000 square-foot store will cost between $250K and $300K. Based on my research, I can expect to pay up to $300K for initial fixtures and inventory. The rest of the funds will go toward interior design, advertising, payroll, and other expenses.

It's a lot of money; there's no doubt about that. But if I can raise half the funds through grants, I'll feel comfortable achieving the rest through a small business loan. This week, I'll post a list of grants I'm planning to apply for. And if you all know of any you think are appropriate, by all means, throw them at me!

Other stuff to come this week:

* How are booksellers adapting to the digital age?
* Part I in a series of posts I'll be calling, "But How Will You Make Money?"
* Commentary on an article enticingly called, "An Idea Every Independent Bookstore Should Steal"
* Commentary on a Slate article called, "What Are Independent Bookstores Really Good For? Not Much"
* The blog's first book review, which I'm excited about!
* Updates on the business plan, grant applications, and blog and Facebook analytics

And maybe a personal lamentation or two about the pains of moving--and the excitement of Colin and I buying our first house together :)

What else would you like to see on the blog?

And...Action!

On Saturday, February 6, I was interviewed by Courtney Sames and Fede Cavazos, two fellow Laredoans who have been filming a documentary about the closing of B. Dalton. They have sat and talked with high school teachers who broke into tears; librarians who vowed to increase circulation; a bus full of orphanage children who shopped at B. Dalton one last time before it closed; and a fourteen-year-old girl who has collected thousands of signatures on a petition to bring another bookstore to Laredo.

As the cornflower sky began deepening and the air turned brisk with evening, we sat out on my back deck to have a long, frank discussion about my plans. I was asked about my family, my life in Laredo and since I left, and what books and literacy mean to me. I was also asked how I would tailor the bookstore to Laredo’s unique demographic and why I’ve chosen to take this risk. I guess my answer is this:

Without a bookstore, without a focus on the importance of reading and writing, Laredo is a city at its most vulnerable. At its most exploitable, corruptible, and defenseless. Never have I felt more moved to make a change than I do now. What was once a “life dream”—something I intended to pursue after achieving my own success as a writer—has become one of those rare passions. A mission. A knowledge that this is a problem I can help solve, and which my heart feels a duty to amend.

After the interview was over and we were all chatting in my kitchen, Fede admitted, “You know, before we started this project, I was skeptical about whether Laredo is capable of sustaining a bookstore. But after interviewing all the people we have, I know, without a doubt, that it is. There are a lot of people in that city who want and would appreciate a good bookstore.”

It’s what I believed already, but those words were so validating! There is a community of ardent readers in Laredo, and a community that would like to be.

Being interviewed was an honor, and I can't wait to see the documentary when it's done. Thank you, Courtney and Fede!

Are you from Laredo, Nuevo Laredo, Monterrey, or South Texas? What would you like to see in an independent bookstore?

A Bookstore for Laredo

The day before B. Dalton, then Laredo's only bookstore, closed, my dad said to me, “I don’t want to hear about your dreams; I want to hear about your plans.”

If you didn’t know him, if you didn’t know me, if you didn’t hear the self-aware laugh in his voice and the teasing tone in mine, his words would sound harsh. After all, what father wouldn’t want to hear about his daughter’s dreams? His oldest child’s dreams?

The truth is, both my dad and my mom have always been wonderfully receptive to, and unimaginably supportive of, their children’s dreams. But my parents are more than listening ears. They are hard workers. Build-from-the-ground-uppers. Entrepreneurs. Inspired and inspiring. I have learned from them what it means to not only dream, but to plan. And to not only plan, but to put that plan into action.

So I understood what my dad meant. I laughed and said, “I think I take after you.” I had recently dreamed about how I hadn’t been so supportive of my husband Colin's latest idea for work. Perhaps the dream was my subconscious telling me to stop, for a moment, playing devil’s advocate. Stop picking apart, examining each word, the syntax of each sentence, the format of each page, and the overall idea long enough to consider the excitement behind the idea. The inspiration. But I suppose I, too, like a plan.

And, yet, I’m not a planner. It’s a big joke in my family, how little of a planner I am. I oversleep, press snooze every seven minutes for two hours, am rarely the first to arrive at an appointment, am often forgetful, and put, maybe, too little effort into amending these qualities. Okay, these flaws.

What I am, however, is a person to whom “No” means very little. Or, rather, it means a lot. It means I will work and fight and sweat (then hide that sweat under a deceptive layer of Laura Mercier mineral powder foundation) all the harder to prove that I can meet that original goal. I can prove that naysayer wrong. I can make that beautiful, effervescent dream an equally beautiful, if imperfect, reality. And, in fact, I can do even better than I first imagined.

My dream: to open Laredo Texas’s first bookstore since the closing of its only one. My border hometown, with a population of 250,000 (and a population of 600,000 just a few steps away in Mexico), is now the largest city in the U.S. without a single bookstore. The 1,200 square-foot B. Dalton, owned by Barnes and Noble, was recently closed as part of the company’s transition to “large format” bookstores. The closing was covered by such media as MSNBC, National Public Radio, and The Wall Street Journal, which irresponsibly (in my opinion) dubbed Laredo “a poor city filled with immigrants who don’t speak English, let alone read it.”

The sting of such criticism follows closely on the heels of media reports denouncing Laredo as a breeding ground for criminal activity—drug and gang violence galore. The largest import/export hub in the U.S., Laredo, Texas is the nation’s bad joke, its bastard stepchild. That’s fine. It will allow us to do something great—something customized for Laredo’s unique culture and community, which is so much more than recent publicity would suggest. One year from now, I hope to watch as ground breaks and gives way to our bookstore. I hope to cheer as that dry South Texas soil splits to allow room for books. Stories. Worlds.

My plan: to research. To learn everything I can about selling books (as opposed to writing, editing, or publishing them). That includes financial dynamics, merchandising, location, store design, demographics, inventory, computerization, human resources, marketing, operations, and the list goes on. To write (and have reviewed) an educated, thorough, creative business plan, entirely tailored to the Laredo market. To apply for grants and fellowships. To apply for a small business loan. To encourage community support. To purchase land. To design and build. And to perform the real work—everything that comes after Laredo’s bookstore opens.

I hope to be a part of raising the literacy rate in my hometown (currently 47% of adults in Webb County lack basic reading skills). I hope to give children and teenagers a safe place to explore themselves, and the world. I hope to give adults a warm, welcoming place to enjoy one another’s company, to sit down with a good book and perhaps enjoy a glass of wine. In short, I hope to offer my city both an escape and a return. A liftoff.

One year. We can do this. And here, I will record the progress. I hope you will join me.

Dreams. Plans. Inspiration. They’re all we need to achieve great things.