The Reality of Running a Bookish Small Business While Working a 9–5 (and Raising a Family) - Part 1: Myth vs Reality.

Let me start by saying that this blog will likely be a 4-5 part series. Do people do that? Is that even a thing for blogs? Who knows, either way, that is what's happening here.

As a reader — and I know I’m not alone here — I’ve always had this dreamy, romantic vision of owning my own bookstore. The kind of place that supports my family, frees me from the 9–5 of working for someone else, and lets me spend my days surrounded by stories. In my head, it would be open during the day, buzzing on weekends, hosting cosy author events, cocktail‑and‑book nights, and becoming a little sanctuary where readers and writers feel at home.

And honestly, who wouldn’t want that life? A job where you’re wrapped in the smell of paperbacks, chatting about favourite characters, and reading all day “for work purposes.” It’s the fantasy so many of us book lovers share — the idea that passion alone can build a business, and that loving books is enough to make the dream sustainable.

The reality for me, though — and I’m sure most people juggling a start-up feel this too (even if there are lucky ones already living the dream) — is that it’s not nearly as magical as I imagined. Is it fun? Absolutely. Does it involve things I genuinely love? Yes. Is it profitable? Sometimes. Does it give me financial freedom? Not even close.

'You get to read all day!' The number one thing I have people say to me when I tell them I own a small bookish business. While I do get to read, a lot of the time it's not books. It's emails, product specs, spreadsheets, Instagram comments, etc. If, for some reason, the stars align, I get to read an actual book, but it's usually an audiobook in the car or on the bus, heading to my day job, or I stay awake that little bit too long to power through a couple of chapters. Running a bookish business doesn't always give you reading time; it usually steals it.

'If you love what you do, it won't feel like work.' This myth sounds wholesome, lovely, and inspirational, but the reality? It's hard work. Work that happens after your actual job, after the kids are in bed, after you've cleaned the kitchen and folded the washing. Loving it helps, but it doesn't magically refill your energy tank.

Right now, it’s more like building a house while still living in it. I’m only just starting, still figuring out my niche, still learning what makes my products different from everyone else’s, still experimenting with what resonates and what doesn’t. There’s no steady income yet, no predictable sales, no “quit your job and live off your passion” moment waiting around the corner.

'It must be so relaxing to make bookish things all day.' I swear, people picture candle-making, jewellery crafting, or packing orders as a cosy, aesthetic activity. It can be fun, sure, but it's also messy, time-consuming, and often stressful (especially if things go wrong). There's always trial and error, wasted materials, last-minute orders, supplier delays, and the constant pressure to create new things so you don't fade into the abyss. Some days it feels like I’m throwing ideas into the void and hoping one sticks. Other days, I feel like I’m slowly chiselling away at something that might one day become the life I dream about.

'If you build it, they will come.' A romantic idea, but not how modern small businesses work. Especially in an increasingly saturated market. If you build it, you then have to market it, photograph it, post about it, talk about it, promote it, explain it, and remind people it exists, repeatedly, before they 'come'.

And yet… there’s something strangely beautiful about this stage. The scrappiness. The learning. The tiny wins that feel enormous because you know how much effort went into them. The way a single order can lift your whole mood or a kind message from a reader can make the late nights feel worth it.

This isn’t the dream I imagined — not yet. But it’s the foundation of it. And every small step, every experiment, every late‑night idea scribbled down between yawns is part of building something that one day might look a lot more like the cosy, book‑filled sanctuary I’ve always pictured.

If you’re still with me, I’ll see you in Part 2.

Kristie.