Out of the shark tank

Scariest show on television, y'all.

Hubster loves the TV show Shark Tank. It makes me nauseous.

I've been querying literary agents for the past few months. For those unfamiliar with publishing jargon, the query is a hybrid pitch/business letter aimed at piquing a literary agent's interest in one's work. Writing the query letter is akin to taking a bath in acid and then going for a swim in the ocean. 

The serious writer does not send queries out willy nilly. The serious writer probably doesn't use phrases like willy nilly, but let's move on.

The serious writer does her homework and studies each literary agency and all of its agents to find those most attuned to her writing, goals, work style, and ethics. Queries are then fine tuned to best capture the specific attention of one agent at a chosen agency. 

In the end, literature is subjective. A person you think may love your work may end up feeling uninspired by it. Another may like parts of it, but wonder if you could change it to better meet their wants. And yet another, may love it.

Every time I hit send on a query, I wasn't sure if I'd get any sharks to bite. Actually, I wasn't sure I wanted them to bite. Maybe it'd hurt too much. Was I ready for rejection? Was I ready for success? I felt like the poor schlub standing in front of that intimidating panel on TV's Shark Tank waiting to see if I'd be saved or devoured.

This is the moment where I lose it.
Look at the hunger in those smiles!

Which is why the last time I watched Shark Tank, I ended up running from the room and screaming, "Get out of the chum, dude!" The sharks were just beginning to circle the contestant, and I knew exactly what he was feeling in that moment -- pure panic, filled with hope, and topped off with a huge dose of what-the-heck-have-I-gotten-myself-into!

Hubster and I have agreed I am no longer allowed to watch Shark Tank. Our mental health benefits won't begin to cover the damage it'd do to my delicate psyche.

Sometimes it's necessary to swim with the big fishes though. The things you can learn from them and the places they can lead you are amazing. And if you're lucky, one of them will turn out to be less of a shark and more of a . . . um . . . dolphin? Yeah, a dolphin. They are lovely and helpful and not shark-y.

The team at Sarah Jane Freymann. 
Not a shark-y smile in the bunch!

And so I'm happy to announce that I've found my dolphin. 

Jessica Sinsheimer of Sarah Jane Freymann Literary Agency has thrown me a lifesaver and pulled me from the shark tank. Ever grateful. Looking forward to the adventure.

Just keep swimming . . . just keep swimming . . .