A blacktip reef shark swims under our little boat. Photo by expedition leader Caine Delacy.
What's scarier than swimming with sharks? Releasing a brand new book into the world!
How do I know? Even if you read my previous post about swimming with humpback whales in Tahiti this summer, you might be surprised to learn that I also swam with sharks while I was there.
This was not part of the plan. Though I knew we’d be swimming with other marine life, I didn’t expect sharks to be on the list.
It was a drizzly, windy day, and our boat captain drove us out to the northwestern point of the island, just beyond the breakers, which were slamming into the beach. He then anchored us, revved the engine, and retrieved a cooler full of dead fish. He tossed a few pieces of chum into the water, and darting black fins swarmed our little boat.
Our guide told us to don our masks and fins. “Time to swim with sharks,” he said.
“No way,” someone replied. “I’m not getting in.”
“Are you tired?” our guide asked. “Or afraid?”
We’d spent the day swimming with giant whales out in the big blue. Here, the water was shallow by comparison, and the wildlife much smaller…but we weren’t comforted. We all knew this wasn’t an issue of being tired.
“I’m afraid,” the person answered. The rest of our little group—six people total—voiced their agreement. We were all afraid.
“You’re getting in,” our guide said. “And two minutes in to the swim, you’ll laugh at how afraid you were.”
Our guide then briefed us on the sharks. They were blacktip reef sharks, about three to five feet long. As long as we didn’t wiggle our fingers at them, we’d be fine. He offered other facts and safety tips, then had us sit on the edge of the boat and prepare to slide in.
Poised above the water, the wind gusted and spray from a distant wave sprinkled my face. My neoprene wetsuit hadn’t fully dried from our last swim, and my limbs felt heavy and tired from a full day of ocean swimming. My feet—clumsy with my fins strapped on—hovered inches above the water. I watched a shark fin dart close, the Jaws theme on repeat in the back of my mind.
"Ready?” our guide asked.
We all shook our heads, but he started counting down anyway.
“Three…”
I fitted my snorkel mask over my face, the rubber strap pulling at my tangled hair. The tube tasted of salt.
“Two…”
There was silence amongst the group. My heart was jackhammering.
“One!”
I pushed off the boat gently, sliding into the warm ocean water. The sound of splashing and bubbles filled my ears as everyone let go.
Sharks swarmed everywhere, far more than what I’d seen from the boat. I located our guide and swam toward him, my adrenalin washing me in calm. Our guide was perfectly still, balanced upright in the water column with his arms folded over his chest, his weight belt holding him steady. He reached out a hand, and a shark swam toward him. He released a chunk of fish, and when the shark retrieved it, our guide stroked the shark’s back with his hand. Even with the snorkel in his mouth, I could tell he was smiling.
Me and my husband with a blacktip reef shark. Photo by Caine Delacy.
They were the color of sand and looked soft as suede. Their eyes were gold and cunning. The jagged edge of the black that tipped their fins was different on every individual.
As the sharks swam around us, my anxiety decreased. They weren’t here to eat me. In fact, they were a little wary of me. They approached, curious, but if I tried to touch one, it would dart away before I could. They would circle and observe us, but they never showed aggression.
They were actually pretty cute. My delight blossomed in my chest and I grinned inside my snorkel mask so big that a little water seeped in.
All that worry for nothing.
By the time we had to get back on the boat, I didn’t want to stop. I was purely delighted. I didn’t want the encounter to end.
When we were all out of the water once again, our guide asked, “How was it?”
We were all grinning ear to ear.
“It’s like swimming with puppies,” I said. “They’re so cute and curious.”
Others nodded in agreement. The sharks were a highlight of the trip.
“You see?” our guide said. “Your former selves had nothing to fear.”
***
Swimming with sharks is the perfect metaphor for releasing a new book into the world.
Seriously.
I’ve spent a lot of time anticipating the launch of my new book, Keep Me Afloat. I’ve spent a lot of time feeling tired and afraid. The fear of swimming with sharks is a cakewalk compared to the fear I experience before one of my books releases to the world.
Writing is a very personal thing—even when it’s a work of fiction. You spend so much time writing, editing, and polishing a novel. Early mornings, late nights, missed sleep. It’s terrifying to then take that beloved project and offer it to reviewers, critics, and readers—because let’s face it, not everyone will love it. That’s the nature of the business.
But like swimming with sharks, I know that publishing a book is a profound opportunity—it’s something to cherish. And like the sharks, I’ve been pleasantly surprised by my reception so far. It’s exciting to see what people think of my new book. The vast majority of the feedback has been positive, and I truly believe this is my best book yet.
The truth is this: the anticipation is always scarier than the actual experience.
Sometimes you just have to jump in and hope for the best. You might be pleasantly surprised.
A blacktip reef shark swims below us. Photo by our expedition leader Caine Delacy.