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?

If We Build It, They Will Come

"If we build it, they will come," Mary Benavides said to me on the phone this afternoon.

I was in my car on my way to my usual parking lot in San Marcos, where I'm an MFA student at Texas State. I had spent the morning working on the book I'm co-writing with the fantastic Corey Blake (www.roundtablecompanies.com), hurriedly cleaning the house in preparation for the Austin Energy Audit we're having tomorrow, and looking at yet more online photos of apartments. Then I'd spent the afternoon trekking through apartments that were all beginning to look eerily alike, and talking to leasing people whose cheerfulness I was really starting to doubt. So hearing Mary's voice, despite the fact that it was only the second time we'd spoken, was decidedly refreshing.

We spoke for about twenty minutes, give or take, filling each other in on the status of our plans. "I want to help you in any way I can," she said. "I want us to work together on this."

"So do I," I told her, thrilled that we were still on the same page (okay, pun intended).

She told me that she's in the process of choosing a location and securing investors, and I told her about a conversation I'd had with my mom recently about the choice between funding the bookstore through investors versus taking out a loan.

With investors, it gets complicated, my mom had said. They will eventually want a return, and they'll expect that their ideas are heard and some of them incorporated. "That's hard for me," I told Mary. "I mean, if their ideas are in line with your vision, that's great. But what if they're not? How much do you owe an investor because he or she has helped you start this venture?"

"Katie, we're exactly in the same place!" she exclaimed. "Plus, I'm proud. It's hard for me to ask for help like that."

"Me too," I said.

At another point, she told me of the difficulty of actually securing investors for a project like this. "But I just keep saying, if we build it, they will come," Mary said.

Stuck in traffic, after just spitting out a bite of a sandwich with disgusting wasabi mayonnaise, I felt goosebumps rise on my arms. "I love that," I said.

"What we're doing is bigger than you and me, Katie. It's about community. It's all about community."

We again promised to keep each other posted, and Mary told me that she'll be in and out of San Antonio in the coming weeks in preparation for her daughter's wedding. I let her know that I'd love to drive down and meet her so that we can talk about our plans in person.

"I think the key is going to be that each of our stores offers something the other doesn't," I said. "That way, we're complementing each other, rather than competing."

"Katie," she said, "I don't want to be in competition with you in any way, shape, or form. We're partners in this."

And I truly feel like we are, which in itself is kind of miraculous. Mary, if you're reading this post, can't wait till we meet in person!

Laredo Bookstore Updates . . . Overdue!

Wow. If any week has shown me what a challenge opening this bookstore will be, it's this one. Which is why, I'm sorry to say, I haven't posted since Sunday.

This week, after being on the market for a year and a half, our house finally got an offer. A full-price offer (granted, after we significantly lowered the price), at that. So, after settling quite comfortably, if guiltily, into the fact that the house may not sell for some time, my husband and I have been jarred into the reality of looking for a new place to live, packing, and moving . . . all in less than 30 days. That is, assuming the sale goes through as planned. All of this means that, in addition to Colin starting a new job this week, and my full-time work and grad school and planning for this bookstore, we've been apartment-hunting like crazy. It's a level of stress that's laughable.

In any case, selling this house (again, assuming all goes through) probably couldn't come at a better time. Because our lives are so in flux right now, we'll be renting for a while, rather than buying. That leaves us with some flexibility when it comes to bookstore plans.

And speaking of plans: Mine for this week are:

* Finish my Pepsi grant application, to be posted online for voting on March 1. Courtney Sames, who has been working with Fede Cavazos on filming a documentary about B. Dalton closing and what has come next, has offered to send me a few photos to use for my application. I can't wait to see what she's got for me!

* Email the president of Texas A&M International University in Laredo; since university students are one of my key demographics, I would love to keep him informed in hopes that he will communicate my plans to all TAMIU students. I'd love to get them reading this blog and contributing their ideas as to what they'd like to see in an independent bookstore.

* Finalize and send off magazine pitches to at least three national women's magazines. I'll let you all know which ones once the pitches have gone out.

* More research and more work on my business plan. When the plan is finished, I'll use it to apply for more grants, as well as a small business loan from local financial institutions and the Small Business Association. Once I have funding, I'll be able to give you all more details as to what I have in mind for location.

* Visit with Mary Benavides again over the phone to compare notes on our plans. I have some ideas as to how we can both achieve our goals while providing Laredo with bookstores that aren't in direct competition. Details to come!

Another update is that my sister, a senior at Texas A&M University in College Station, has the opportunity to work with an expert to develop a detailed project management plan. She's opted to work with me on developing a plan for the bookstore, which I'm SO excited about! This is something separate from the business plan, and should serve as a roadmap throughout the project. I'll be sure to keep you all posted.

Soon to come: my vision for the bookstore. The size, the look and feel, the books, the non-books, the refreshments . . .

Thanks for coming back this week despite my inconsistency. Your readership inspires me!

What Do Independent Bookstores Offer That Chains Don't?

As it turns out, a lot.

But first, a little history on how Laredo views chains and independents, at least from my perspective.

Laredo seems, to me, very different now than it was when I was growing up. I didn't run barefoot across unpaved roads like my parents did, but I distinctly remember the many parts of town that were undeveloped. Just monte--hard-packed dirt and scrub brush. I remember the joy we three kids had on our family trips to San Antonio, 150 miles away. Our first stop upon entering the city was always Olive Garden. The restaurant shared the parking lot with Ingram Mall, and I remember being delighted by the big Shepler's Boot sign.

San Antonio was the land of chains, and we loved it. It was American Eagle and Abercrombie, Red Lobster and Texas Land & Cattle. We'd stay at the Drury Inn, which we called the Dreary, or sometimes at the Omni or Doubletree or Marriott. We'd shop and eat for two days and then go home, full and happy.

I remember when Laredo got an Olive Garden. It, too, shares a parking lot with a mall. Red Lobster, Logan's Roadhouse, Sirloin Stockade, and Long John Silvers occupy the same stretch of asphalt. I remember when we got a McDonald's almost around the corner from my house, and then--cue the trumpets--Starbucks came into town. In high school, I adored the feeling of sitting in Starbucks, gossiping with girlfriends, and drinking some sugary caffeinated concoction. I felt as though I was growing up, and Laredo was, too.

In a lot of ways, I think chains coming into town gave Laredo some kind of validation. It made us feel like we were joining the rest of the world, becoming a "real" city. It wasn't until I moved to the Austin area in 2002 that I became charmed by independently owned restaurants, boutiques, antique shops, and bookstores, that I began seeing their unique value.

Now to answer the title question of this post: What do independent bookstores offer that chains don't?

According to several studies explored in an article on Book Passage Bookstore's website--which can be found at http://www.bookpassage.com/content.php?id=95--locally owned businesses "generate a 70% premium in local economic benefit."

In California last year, the number of in-store author appearances at indie bookstores was more than 4,000. In the same year, indie bookstores donated more than $100,000 to local community organizations. They employed more than 3,000 people, and the sales taxes collected and paid to support schools, social services, and public agencies totaled more than $10 million. How about Amazon.com? Zeros to all of these questions.

I know, I know--Amazon.com isn't exactly a chain. But consider this bit of information from the article:

"In 2002 a study was commissioned in Austin, Texas, to compare the comparative economic benefit to the community of Bookpeople, an Austin independent bookstore, and Waterloo Records, a local music store, with a proposed Borders store that threatened to drive both out of business. The study looked at the local economic impact - i.e. the degree to which money from each business flows back into the local economy. The study concluded that for every $100 of money spent at Borders $13 flowed back into the community in wages, expenditures, taxes, etc. With the independents, however, the comparable figure was $45. In other words, the two independent stores yielded more than three times the local economic impact."

Consider these figures from a similar study in Chicago:

"For every $100 in consumer spending with a local firm, $73 remains in the Chicago economy.
For every $100 in consumer spending with a chain firm, $43 remains in the Chicago economy.
For every square foot occupied by a local firm, local economic impact is $179.
For every square foot occupied by a chain firm, local economic impact is $105."

I'm convinced. How about you?

Thanks for sticking with me through this long post! I'd love to hear your thoughts. And thanks to Annette for pointing me to this article!

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.