Getting my head out of the books

My eldest daughter’s first word was “No”. It remained her only word for quite a while. She was many things as a small child: an insomniac, an alarm clock, a terrible crawler, a prodigious walker, a freakishly good impressionist of the girl from "The Ring". But, above all, she was self-possessed. She knew what she did and didn’t want, and nothing would change her mind.

That trait of self-possession, that ability to say no, that didn’t come from me. I have no ability to say no. I live in a permanent state of FOMO. Particularly when it comes to our bookshop. Every opportunity must be grabbed. Every event must be accepted. Every date in the diary must be booked and then double-booked. If I work harder then we’ll do better. Money a bit tight? Work some more hours. Ticket sales slow? Work some more hours. 

This Yes Man approach to business meant that we ran 55 school events and 42 evening events last year. It gave us some wonderful moments - Jon Klassen, in Aardman’s private cinema, revealing that his first date with his wife was to watch Aardman classic "The Wrong Trousers" springs to mind. It showed us that what we do really can make a difference: a child coming into our shop to buy their first book after meeting an author we took to their school. And it completely wore me out.

For most of last year I worked 55 hours a week. For periods, the fortnight of World Book Day, the whole of September, I worked 70 hours a week. Doctors, teachers and any number of people work more than this and have more stressful jobs, I know that. But for me, that volume of work and that intensity of presenting a cheerful public face, of staying upbeat and saying “Everything’s going really well” even when things weren’t, almost exhausted me. 

My family probably felt the exhaustion more than I did. I missed a lot of bedtimes due to book clubs and events. I missed a lot of weekends, working in the shops on Saturdays and catching up on things for “just an hour or two” on Sundays. I was grumpy and stressed and constantly checking our bank accounts. I was saying to my kids that I couldn’t go to the park as I had work I needed to do. Something had to give. 

I don’t think I’ve ever made a New Year’s resolution, until 2024. This year, I vowed to work less. The biggest challenge to this is that I need to worry less. I need to stop worrying about what other bookshops are doing. I need to stop worrying that if I say no to publicists about one event, we won’t get offered another. I need to stop worrying that the shops aren’t making enough money because I’m in the park with the kids.That’s not easy, especially at the moment. 

I need to stop worrying about what other bookshops are doing. I need to stop worrying that if I say no to publicists about one event, we won’t get offered another.

The Independent Bookshop of the Year shortlist has been announced and with it articles about how this is a golden age for independent bookshops. New book shops keep opening. New avenues, niches and creative enterprises are being explored. New audiences are turning away from Amazon and towards their local high streets. This is visible in the explosion in independent book shops in our home town of Bristol. It’s great news for everyone. But it presents a challenge for my FOMO - what are those bookshops doing that I’m not?

As with everything on social media, it’s easy to only see others’ successes: the big events, the pictures of full shops, the press coverage. But look a little closer and you’ll see a number of really successful bookshops commenting on how hard things are, how every year requires another revenue stream, another arrow to your bow. Emma Corfield-Waters at the brilliant Bookish in Crickhowell (@Bookishcrick), is brutally honest about the day-to-day of her shop, its good times and bad. Bookish, who were named Wales’ Independent Bookshop of the Year earlier this month, have their bookshop, a cafe, an endless events calendar, a literary festival and a food festival. And yet there are weeks when they need to appeal to Twitter for website sales, just to keep the lights on.

When running a business gets tough it’s hard to take a step back and see what you’re doing well. It’s harder still to accept that, actually, you are doing well. It’s hard to see the sun when your head is buried in the books. But we need to do just that. We need to give ourselves a break and a pat on the back. We need to celebrate our successes more than we worry about our challenges. We need to spot the smiles on customers’ faces, take the compliment when someone says “It’s a lovely shop”, and remember why we became booksellers.

So this year, I will get my head out of the books, or out of our business books at least. I’ll look at all we’ve achieved in five years. I’ll stop chasing my tail and double-booking our diary. We’ll do less events, but I’ll enjoy them more. I’ll work smarter, not harder. I’ll follow my daughter’s lead and say no. And then say yes to going to the park.