HOW I MADE MY FIRST MILLION AS A WRITER SELLING BOOKS… I had it all worked out. In three months I would be a millionaire! I had made my calculations and the plans were fool proof. Prior to this, I had traveled around the country establishing contacts with reputable bookshops around the country that were willing to sell my books. They had privileged glimpses into the work and were all convinced that I had a bestseller in wait. For me, all I needed do was sell a thousand books and I had berthed at the shore of my dreams… Added to this were my personal contacts and friends whose goodwill I had enjoyed over the years. Thus, like a happy child, I set out to attain to this goal while choosing to start within the Lagos metropolis. Luckily, I met with great success everywhere I went and almost all the bookshops loved the quality of the books. All sorts of encomiums were showered upon the effort and many more copies were ordered than previously booked. I had barely covered the South West when we ran out of stock. This was understandable as quite a number of copies were sold and distributed on a personal basis. Hence, we were sure to hit our targets! I only needed to collect the monies from the various outlets; including a few lecturers who sold directly to their students, and I was bound to be remunerated. The rest was sinch. Easy peasy! I often wondered why publishers and authors complained that they were not selling, and really would not buy into the excuse that we are not a book-reading public. I honestly think we are! On my first visit to one of the prestigious bookshops, I went armed with my invoices and copies of the books to make for easy identification. The store manager remembered me fondly and offered me a seat. The accountant had only just stepped out and I needed to exercise a little patience for him to return. I did... and ended up waiting the whole day through. In any case, what did it matter? The end would justify the means. He sauntered in much later in the day, apologized, and went through his records. I could return on Friday for my cheque and that was it. That settled, I thanked him and returned home. What a wonderful start! The next day, I set out early enough to beat the traffic and to ensure that I covered greater space. This bookshop was located in a prestigious shopping mall. They were very professional in their dealings but explained that they paid only on the last Wednesdays of the month. All but two of my books had been sold and they requested more copies. As simple as that! At the next bookstore, the lady at the counter seemed a little depressed. She had no idea of the financial workings of her organization and politely requested that I return in a week’s time when the owner was sure to be around. I tried cheering her up and off I went. She promised that she would call when her boss returned. The following morn, full of energy and greatly reinvigorated, I proceeded to another part of town. There were none of my books left on the shelves and the prospects seemed very bright. The store manager could sense my excitement and immediately thought to dampen my enthusiasm. He insisted that I come back after verification. He swore that he had seen those books “somewhere” and was sure that they had not been sold. “And when do I come back?” I asked. He said that he would call. All he needed was a week and he would have been through. Fine. Starting off is usually tedious in any profession. And having this in mind, I persisted. The next outlet had just one book left on their shelf. The last time I stopped over I had counted ten. But that meant nothing. The manager of the store calmly explained to me that they had several branches and reconciliation was necessary before they would effect payment. And in an exact replay of the scenario I had encountered earlier, he also swore that he had seen those books “somewhere”… At this point, I decided to change the game plan and head for the higher institutions. The books had already been recommended in several universities during the last semester, having been nominated for a prestigious literary prize, and payment was due from the various bookshops and from lecturers who sold directly to their students. The first University bookshop I got to was brimming with students when I got in and I asked to see the manager. He was chewing roasted boli when I entered his office, whilst his other hand threw groundnut grains into his mouth with a great deal of expertise. Without looking up, he told me to sit down and went into a rhetoric that seemed well rehearsed. The university bookshop had management issues and the staff hadn’t been paid for months. He asked me where I was from, and upon realizing that we were from the same tribe, insisted on speaking Yoruba to me. As he saw me off, he asked me to pray for him and the bookshop, but was convinced nonetheless that one day things would improve. He could not give me a date but mentioned that whenever the Senate met, the issue would be resolved. I left offering him a prayer, though by this time, I had also started praying for myself… I then proceeded to visit a good friend of mine. He lectured my books, loved my works greatly, and oft mentioned to me on the phone how enthused his students were when studying what he deemed a “refreshing” style. His body language immediately told me something was wrong when I walked in. He wasn’t expecting me after all and he shifted our rendezvous till the end of the month. He was polite and he pleaded for time kindly. Another one wasn’t so nice. The books had been misplaced, possibly stolen, and he searched everywhere in his office, including inside his ice-cold fridge - an action which I found bizarre – and he lamented the theft that had occurred. I couldn’t reconcile this tragedy with the fact that he sold more copies to his students the following semester. At this point, stoic and resilient as I can be, I started to weary a little. My, what an experience selling books! Thus, I headed for another glamorous bookshop outside town this time, Ibadan precisely, where they admitted having sold out the copies. The only snag was that one of the signatories to the account had lost her step mother’s grandson’s senior uncle’s cousin, and would only be back at a time they couldn’t immediately ascertain. Almost resignedly, I took a break and thought to use the phone a little more. I called the first fella who said I should return for my cheque on Friday. His director who was to sign was out of town. The lady at the bookshop didn’t call; and when I did get through to her, she wasn’t working there anymore. The shop remained shut for quite a period of time and gradually went into extinction. Two of the bookshop managers I had also conversed with earlier were still swearing that they had seen the books “somewhere” but could not immediately ascertain where they were. The largest of the bookshops at the mall declared bankruptcy and suddenly closed down. The books they closed down with went into a complete meltdown. The university bookstore manager resigned his job after a few weeks and left. He was replaced by a charismatic manager who remedied the situation, and after a year, I was eventually paid. After searching for close on a year, a senior director of one of the bookshops I patronized, declared the search futile and thought I deserved to be paid for the books I supplied. I was to immediately re-supply though. A certain lecturer got angry at my inquisitiveness and stopped using my books. Couldn’t I show him some more understanding? Nonetheless, and in spite of all the mayhem, other very distinguished individuals, too many to mention, made the effort worthwhile. They bought with great love in their hearts and in certain instances, overpaid a great deal. They “launched” the book for me! Great was the experience, with a certain “Quintessence”, and other bookshops that proved themselves rather unique. By this time however, and without previously having mentioned the dangers of plagiarism, the short-changing of authors by big publishing companies, the politics of getting books recommended, and so many others, I had recovered from my earlier illusions and could not contemplate selling books in distant States anymore... I grappled with the frightening and perplexing reality on ground - the average Nigerian writer is an acutely endangered species! I quickly resorted to writing proposals, frying yam, running a business centre, selling art, distributing wine, retailing honey, frying groundnut and selling clothes. Further fright saw me executing supply contracts, selling shoes, repairing bicycles… and of course, fulfilling a most vital calling to write still! Ladies and gentlemen, buoyed - or do I say piqued? - by my early book-selling experiences, it was from these other ventures that I made my first million …
Posted on: Mon, 18 Aug 2014 05:03:37 +0000
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