Confessions of a Bookstore Owner Who Forgot She Has a Substack
Oops
He didn’t know why, but every step toward home felt like a mistake.
Just kidding — wrong opening line. That’s from my novel-in-progress. But it does describe how it felt to log back into this Substack and realize… I haven’t written here in forever.
So where have I been? In short:
Running two bookstores (because one haunted shop isn’t enough).
Wrangling a growing team that insists on being paid in real money instead of “exposure.”
Launching new projects like Pixie Drops (tiny collectible fiction cards that eat up way too much of my dining room table).
Convincing people to join our new membership programs, Shelf Dwellers and Order of Midnight, while secretly wondering if I should join my own membership to keep up.
Hosting ghost hunts and wine-adjacent book events, because apparently “normal” isn’t my brand.
And of course, still writing, editing, and chasing deadlines like they’re slippery ghosts down the aisles of the bookstore.
But here’s the thing, publishing (and running a business) is never just tidy launches and happy reviews. It’s also misadventures. Like the time a shipment of books arrived that smelled suspiciously like they’d been stored in a possum den. Or the time I realized mid-event that I had double-booked myself and was expected to be in two towns at once.
If you think that’s entertaining, wait until you hear about the time I nearly quit publishing altogether and the strange thing that stopped me—that one’s coming soon.
For now, consider this my wave from the forest, letting you know I’m still here. Still weird. Still stubbornly building this creative empire from the ground up (literally).
P.S. If you want to see what else I’m building (besides questionable possum-infused shipments), visit From the Ground Up Books or my
Bookshop.org store.— Lynn