The Just One Book Campaign
Four days ago the phone rang and one of our suppliers delivered the news that they were putting all further work on hold. We?d run out of credit. We looked at cash and realised we had two weeks left. What followed has been exhausting and astonishing in equal measure.
Let me back up. Nearly ten years ago I was sat in Churchill College with John Kinsella having coffee and talking about doing some collaborative publishing together for the Poetryetc listserv. We planned five or six anthologies called Catalyst. None saw the light. But within a few months we began publishing and in 2000 the first four books appeared: Doug Barbour, Anna Mendelssohn (aka Grace Lake), Susan Schultz and Susan Wheeler. That mix typified what was to come, Americans, Australians, Canadians, English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh writers all joined the list and over the next nine years the publishing changed from four books a year to eighty. The accelerated growth was all part of the plan to establish a major international poetry publisher that was stable, viable and independent. The growth in revenue wasn?t quite as extravagant but by 2008 turnover had increased to ?124,000. Then something remote, arcane and irrelevant happened: the US sub prime mortgage crisis led to a global economic downturn. We weren?t bothered. Books wouldn?t be affected and we?d seen 72% growth. We were unstoppably confident.
After the phone call, one of those calls between friends which is edged in embarrassment and discomfort, I hang up and Skype Jen to explain what had happened. We look at cash in the bank, we owe more than we have. It looks like the beginning of the end …
A week earlier we?d had a meeting to mark the coming end of our relationship with the Arts Council, it was a tense and productive meeting. Tense as we were all beginning to come to terms with the end of the existing relationship and with the fact that we could no longer apply for Grants for the Arts project funding for our core publishing business. We were on our own. Where we?d planned to be, except the past year had been utterly disastrous for sales. When the economic crisis had hit us the previous June we thought we would ride it out, but the growth began to decline, month by month we saw the rate of growth falling and falling until by the year end in March we were shrinking and the budget deficit against which our funding had been planned was ?55,000. The cash reserves were gone. The grant was all but gone. We were working furiously to sell, and publishing as fast as we could to avoid the summer slump.
The next day, Jen and I are in the office checking the bank and realise it is time for our tax return. We?d lost track of the date and we have to pay today; suddenly a huge additional bill appears. By 2 p.m. it is the end. There haven?t been tears often over the last nine years, but there are now. Jen leaves to pick up Cameron and I stare at my work list on my Mac with my heart pounding, I am filled with anxiety and trying hard to suppress it. I bizarrely lose my hearing. I?ve have the truly awful task of cancelling titles to save the press. My mother-in-law arrives and we explain the crisis to her. She offers to help look after the kids in the afternoons to let us work.
3.45 p.m. I?m talking to Jen on Skype when I ask her to hang on, I?ve had a thought. I decide that it?s time to go public. It?s time to talk to our friends. I bring up my Facebook profile and jot down a note. Just one book, I think. That?s all it would really take to get us back on track. If everyone bought one book we?d be able to move ahead. I post the note. 3.56 p.m. I manage to talk to our main creditor and talk through a payment plan to take us to September. My old friends agree and we buy some time.
In the next eight hours, I receive hundreds of notes of support. We receive 122 orders and sales begin to grow, around ?2,600 before we switch off our lights and close the bedroom laptops. Something extraordinary is beginning.
Thursday, 21 May, Jen can?t wait to see Tom?s face in the office. It?s the largest number of orders we?ve had in a day. I stay at home to prepare for a repping trip to London. Before I go, I create a spoof ad to support our Just One Book campaign. I post it on YouTube and then dress for the trip.
I?m in the car on Cherry Hinton Road and there?s total grid lock. Nothing is moving and I sit for half an hour before crawling down to Rustat Road to park. There?s no room, I drive up and down, turn off side streets, I?ve missed my train. Everywhere I look there are cars parked and discarded as the traffic worsens. The tail back is stretching miles. I give up, turn on my hazard lights and ring the London Review Bookshop to apologise, I?ll have to cancel, there?s no way I can get into the city. I spin the car around and manage to head back out of the city to the office.
Hundreds more orders have come in. Everyone is picking books from the shelves, packing and franking post. There?s a system emerging. Tom handles the UK, Jen is drop shipping orders in the US, Charlotte is handling unusual and awkward orders where stocks are in multiple locations. I?m given the task to spread the word. By the end of the day we?ve taken a further 260 orders and the news of Salt?s plight is going global. Google alerts show blogs picking up on the news. By 5 p.m. all anyone has done all day is pack orders and they?re coming in faster than we can handle. I?m writing a press release at 7 p.m. and getting ready to tell the story of the past day. We find a way forward for the front list and I began ringing authors to discuss how we might save their books. Hits to the Web site explode.
Friday 22 May, the team have managed to catch up with the previous afternoon?s orders. The Bookseller pick up on the story. The phone doesn?t stop ringing. During the course of the day, a further 157 orders come in. Twitter is full of the news, our authors are picking up on the story. It seems as if everyone we?ve known is pulling together to save Salt. We?re overwhelmed. All I can think of is the closing scenes of Capra?s
It?s a Wonderful Life
and Jen and I are James Stewart and Donna Reed. I wonder if it will continue, if it does, in 18 days we?ll be saved, in 30 we?ll be able to take the business forward. I?m still deaf. The kitchen is filling with empty bottles of Sauvignon Blanc and convenience food cartons. The house is in chaos. The kids are tetchy and the half term holidays begin.
Saturday 23 May. A further 51 orders have come in this morning. We?ve vowed to stop drinking in the evenings. We need all our wits. Cameron is driving everyone nuts. I soft launch the new author portal (
http://www.saltpublishing.com/writers/
). I cycle back to feed the kids and swap over with Jen. She heads off to package up more orders. We?re overwhelmed, astonished, humbled. Humbled. How often do we use that word in business?
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Just One Book Campaign
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