Back in the 1980s, when I was writing horror novels–and finally getting them published–Patty and I loved to visit bookstores and see my books on the shelves. Waldenbooks, Borders, little independent stores… We’re both avid readers, and kept stocking up on paperbacks for the weekend. Books with the theme of “small town terrorized” were always high on her list. And I was thrilled when Aunt Gertie went on a bus trip to Niagara Falls and found my books in some of the gift shops.
We had two stores right here, downtown. There were bookstores everywhere. But now there’s only one, selling used paperbacks only. Where did the rest of them go? You can imagine how a writer must have felt about disappearing bookstores.
It looks to me like most books, the most by far, can only be bought online. I’m glad we can do that, but I have to say my sales were much better in the bookstores. Writing is the only job I do really well–and a writer has got to have readers.
There’s still a Barnes & Noble in our Menlo Park Mall–the only place I know where you can still buy new books. But as a writer, I’d be sunk without Amazon.com.
You can’t find my books in the stores anymore, you can only buy them online. Heck, you can hardly find the stores. I miss browsing in the bookstores. And I wonder if they’ll ever come back.
My first published book. Corny? I guess so. But my own.
