Whether we were sharkbit or merely sloppy and naïve, we felt lightened by approximately one pound of flesh. Which is why, when I had three chapters and a detailed outline on “Anything Worth Doing” – you’ll recall that that’s the title of the rafting book this anti-blog is purportedly about — I went straight to publishers instead of seeking a new agent.

My coauthor on the first cougar book helped. We contacted some of the same editors we’d reached out to when shopping the cougar book, minus those who seemed a mismatch. Five calls each for a total of ten.

I have heard the truism that New York doesn’t accept unagented queries and that you should never cold-call a publishing house. All I know is that I have and the people on the other end of the phone have been polite every time, and helpful far more often than not. That goes double if they’ve talked with you before.

And why wouldn’t they be? Their business runs on writers. A writer calling a publisher is like a tree calling a timber company. The only hitch is that many people who want to be published are unable to deliver publishable work and in many cases aren’t even sure what publishable work looks like.

That doesn’t matter as much as you’d think: I believe editors believe they can spot those people at a glance. If they see potential for a marketable book in you, they will listen. Even if they don’t want your book, they will be friendly and polite: They might want the next.

Here’s another thing I believe with nothing but gut instinct to back it up: Editors are free agents. Just as publishing houses choose among books to produce, they choose among editors to employ. Editors need good writers to produce good books so their publishing houses will keep them. Or so a better house will steal them away.

I figure it like this: If I write one book in two years, sales of that book comprise my income, and response to it my reputation. If an editor spearheads publication of, say, ten books this year, those ten are to him what my one is to me. But a publisher like Harper Collins? They have a stable of imprints, and every imprint has a stable of editors who each have a stable of books, each of which is life itself to the writer. Any one writer or editor can fail dismally without a ripple to Harper Collins’ bottom line.

Point being, if you can write, editors WANT you to find them. And a no from an editor is not a wasted call if it suggests to that editor that you are a writer.

Speaking of which, for the purposes of this post, let’s define ‘writer’ as: A person who will deliver, on time and with minimal hassle, a marketable book that will not become the subject of litigation; that will make the editor feel good to have had a hand in it; that will support the editor’s reputation; and that seems likely to make the publisher money.

A writer will also promote said book to further increase the odds of profit, ideally while starting another marketable book.

When we were shopping the cougar book, half the publishers we called asked to see a query or proposal before the end of the call. Not this time. With “Anything Worth Doing,” only two did. After looking my proposal over, one said it looked like a great magazine article but not much of a book. The other complimented the writing but no thanks.

Clean sweep on the next batch, too.

I was pretty sure the problem wasn’t me. Which meant it was the book.

Meanwhile, against advice from the How-To folks and my friends, I plowed ahead and finished drafting “Anything Worth Doing.”