Sitting in the Mouth of the Shark

 

I had a dream that was more of a nightmare. 

I was sitting in the top storey of a wooden building that floated on the sea, not very secure.  

 Out of the window with no glass I could see a huge wooden shark, and someone was sitting in its mouth. 

They were riding around in it, seemingly oblivious to the potential danger they were in. 

Perhaps because the shark was wooden they thought they were safe. 

As I watched from my vantage point, I saw the shark's mouth begin to move. 

I watched in horror as the shark's mouth clamped shut and ate up the person who had been sitting there, turning the sea a murky red with their blood. 

I was afraid because I thought that  my rickety floating building would collapse, and I would be taken into the mouth of the shark. 

That’s when I woke up.

I thought of it as being a metaphor for the publishing industry, which keeps you in its mouth as long as you feed it well, and when you stop feeding it, eats you instead.

Why would someone sit in its mouth?

Wooden or not, a shark is a shark and will eat you eventually.

I suppose if sitting in the shark’s mouth is the chance you take to become a published writer, then we are all willing masochists for wanting it.

Why would writers, known for their overly-sensitive nature, even want to put themselves in a position like that?  Goodness knows they have to fight hard enough and endure rejection after rejection to get there, and that is bad enough. 

But they do all of that so they can sit in the mouth of the shark?

For the chosen few, they get to stay there for the entire length of their career, one that can last even after their death.

If the shark eats you after that it doesn’t matter, because you are already dead.

But while you get to swim in the sea of creativity and explore all its boundless depths, perhaps it is right that the one to show you the way through them is the Big Fish that rules the sea.

The Shark.

So instead of fearing the mouth of the shark, perhaps there is much to be gained from being there.  A position of influence, of knowing that the words you write will be read by other people and the responsibility that comes with that.

Accepting that it is all temporary, and that one day the shark will more than likely eat you.   

Question is, did you make the most of it while you had the chance?   

Did you live up to the potential you claimed to have when you chose to sit in its mouth?

If the shark is an extension of the sea, it too represents creativity.

Did you feed that creativity with new experiences and people?   

Did you give it what it needs to fuel your own creative processes?

Did you keep moving, as the shark does?   

Did you try new things even though you weren’t sure of the outcome?

In short, did you stay one step ahead of being eaten up?

It’s no wonder I’m so cautious about jumping in.

Which is unusual for me because I am so often the person who leaps into the unknown waters with both feet, who throws herself in at the deep end and then learns how to cope.

It works because it makes you learn and you have to think on your feet, which you don’t have beneath you, because they are furiously treading water.   

But with something as huge as the publishing industry, why would you leap in when you have no idea what to expect?

Or when you are unprepared?

I can see the benefit now in the weeks of market research I did, opening my eyes to the number of writers out there and, more worryingly, the ones that only lasted two books.   

The ones that were chewed up and spat out.

I do not want that to be me.

When I wrote my first novels in my early twenties I was fortunate enough to be working for a bookseller and saw for myself how brutal the industry could be.   

I tested my work out on a few industry professionals and the best advice I got was to get some life experience, prepare myself for the market, and come back.

It was good advice.

And those writings are now confined to the vault of time where they will never again see the light of day.   

Just as well.

And I don’t know when I will be ready.

I do know that the more I write and learn my craft, and take advice from those already negotiating the waters I have yet to enter, the more I prepare myself before I take the leap, the better my chances once I am there.

I do not know if I will get to sit in the mouth of the shark.

But if I do, I hope it is not to be eaten.