When people get to the third, their reaction is very similar to that from the first two:
​

 Yes, what indeed DO genomics, or the study of genomes, have to do with the ocean or fish or whatever? But first:
 
-If you’re familiar with genetics and gene editing, skip down to the next divider. 
​-If you need a brief review or are new to this, read on: 

A genome is all of an organism’s DNA, and DNA is the how-to manual for creating every cell and protein that perform every single function in all living things.
 
If you think of us humans as a house, with different rooms serving different purposes, filled with appliances, plumbing, wiring, etc., our genome includes not only the house’s layout and construction plan, but also how to manufacture the appliances, and even make pipes and grow trees for lumber. Our genome is us.
 
As biotechnology (the term for studying and manipulating genomes) has advanced, we’ve been able to do increasingly fancy things with DNA. We’ve gone from being able to isolate it (“Oh look! DNA!”), to nailing down what individual sequences of DNA, or genes, do (“This gene dictates what color hair a person has.”), to actually being able to “edit” genes (“I’m going to add this gene to my cat’s genome so it’ll glow green.”).
 
That last one—changing/subtracting/adding onto the genome—is a big deal. If our genome is us, and we can change our genome, well shoot, we can do everything from cure deadly diseases to choose the gender of our babies.
 
I’m not going to delve into the ethical implications of editing genomes, because that’s its own quagmire of a post; however, maybe listen to this podcast if you want a glimpse of the moral implications of gene editing.

Genomes and biotechnology are all well and good, but why bother gathering information and examining the genomes of marine organisms? What purpose does it serve?

You may know that rainforests, despite covering a tiny portion of the earth, contain most of our world’s plants and animals. What’s more, a massive number of important prescription medicines have been discovered by studying rainforest flora and fauna[ii]. The biodiversity of rainforests makes them a veritable pharmacy.  

Rainforests comprise about 6% of the earth, but the ocean covers more than 70%, and we’ve only explored around 5% of it. Some scientists are now theorizing that the sheer breadth of the ocean means it is the most biodiverse place ever, far outstripping even rainforests, especially because the deep sea isn’t devoid of life like everyone used to think[ii]. Just imagine what kind of medical discoveries await among the bajillions of critters we haven't yet discovered! Marine genomes have already provided important human health breakthroughs (as with the creation of a non-opioid painkiller from cone snail venom), and as we delve deeper, I’ve no doubt we’ll keep finding novel treatments for what ails us.

​Avocado mole and lawn chair hyperbole totally aren’t a thing, but marine genomics totally is. In fact, it’s the best thing: fish + cutting-edge science = solving our most pressing problems.  

Last year around this time, I revealed that I'd not only finished my novel, but that my agent was in the process of shopping it around to publishers. 

​You may have noticed that I didn't follow up on that post with news about a book deal. That's because there wasn't one. That fact was what at least in part inspired my post about failure. 

Here's what happened: around ten editors read my novel and six of them had the same criticism-- they weren't "falling in love" (that's verbatim) with the main character. Unlike most other areas of my life, when I receive criticism about my writing, I find it very easy to take in and evaluate. I've always had good readers, and their critiques usually resonate with me.

In this case, though, both I and my agent were completely blindsided. Likewise, when I told my readers the reason the editors were passing, they were all shocked. That particular problem (an unsympathetic protagonist) just wasn't on anyone's radar. It's not that I was surprised at a lack of a book deal--I'm not so arrogant as to think it's something I deserved--, it's that I wasn't expecting my main character to be the novel's Achilles heel. 

My agent and I had to make a decision, then. You see, once you approach an editor and they pass, there are no second chances. Even if the book is re-written, that particular editor won't read it again. Most publishing houses have multiple editors so in theory you could pitch the novel to a different editor within the same company, but my understanding of it is that's not always the best idea for lots of reasons. 

The options were to keep the book on the market and continue pitching it to different publishing houses, but we ran the risk of burning through all the houses with whom we wanted to work; the other option was to pull the book before we lost the other four initial editors to whom my agent pitched it, and I would revise it. 

I love my agent. She said, "if this is the book you've written, and this is the book you want to put out into the world, I'll keep working at it." She told me she had great respect for me as an author and trusted my judgement, which was nice to hear, because I no longer trusted myself. It only took me a couple minutes to decide that I wanted to pull it and do more revisions. It was both a hard decision and an easy one, though mostly it was a demoralizing decision. Because my readers, my agent, and I had never considered my main character's lovability as a weakness, I had no idea how to fix the problem.

It took me nine months to get through the revisions, and it's the most miserable writing and editing I've ever done. I hated it, and when I was about half way through, I threw out all the changes I'd already made because I realized I was writing the wrong novel. Facing the prospect of starting over yet again, I came within inches of quitting. Honestly, I don't know why I didn't quit. I just didn't. 

Throughout those months, my agent gave me space to do the revisions, but I didn't volunteer any updates; I was terrified that if I reached out, she'd remember I was dead weight, and she would drop me. You might think that fear would help push me through the revisions faster, but it had the opposite effect. 

On June 1, with no idea how I'd gotten through it, I pressed "send" on the latest version. They had a few tweaks to my tweaks, which was, at that point, fine, because I'd already spent so damn long on the thing, what was a bit more?

Then, finally, almost exactly a year after the start of the first go, my agent once again started sending my novel out to editors. 

It's now been 26 days since my book hit various editors' desks. According to people who know stuff about this process, responses can take anywhere from "right away to six months." I'm trying not to obsess, but it's impossible. If anything, this wait is worse than last year because I know that I'm done with my book. I and my wonderful readers and my agent have taken it as far as we can. If it doesn't pan out this time, "Worthy" is going on my shelf. 

I'm trying to prepare myself for that, and to think of it as something other than failure. I've had some pretty remarkable successes on my way here, and I'm trying to make that be enough. 

It's not, though; at least not this time around.