GENRE: **Diverse, Lyrical
WORDS: 557
Query:
Dear Agents and Editors,
Fishing rod? Packed.
Sunscreen? Slathered.
Steamed buns? Delicious.
Brooke’s first fishing trip begins with one goal—to learn how to catch a fish. Uncle Eddy teaches her to read the river for signs. There are signs everywhere, every bird, every bug, every breeze. Together, they chase ospreys diving for sunfish and watch for mayflies that lure trout to the surface. Though the fish never bite, Brooke carries home something far more precious—a love of the river.
HOW NOT TO CATCH A FISH (557 words) is a lyrical ode to the river that features a multiracial family, like my own. It is a celebration of slow moments like Amy Hest/Erin Stead’s BIG BEAR AND LITTLE BEAR GO FISHING, with the thoughtful wonder of Deborah Underwood/Cindy Derby’s OUTSIDE IN.
I am an Asian American writer and active member of SCBWI, based in the Shenandoah Valley. I fell in love with the outdoors while living between the mountains and seas of the PNW, and am passionate about sharing that love with my readers. I spent a decade working in business and technology before shifting my focus to environmental causes. By day, I work with a conservation non-profit that restores ecosystems for endangered species and local communities. By night, I write picture books and middle grade fantasy filled with heart, nature, and dumplings.
Thank you for your consideration.
Excerpt:
The first time I went fishing,
Uncle Eddy came by with
a long pole,
a tackle box,
and a couple sandwiches and steamed buns.
We hopped into his red pickup
and drove for miles.
The tall buildings became short.
The short trees became tall.
Then suddenly
there weren’t any buildings at all.
“There it is!”
Uncle Eddy pointed to
a blue line on the horizon.
“The river!”
What inspired you to write this story & what do you have in common with it:
Growing up, I had limited exposure to outdoor activities like fishing and hiking. That is not uncommon within BIPOC communities, where people are three times more likely to live in “nature deprived” neighborhoods. I didn’t know what to expect on my first fishing trip, but I quickly fell in love with quiet moments on the river and the sense of belonging to something greater.
But even now, it is hard to miss the lack of diversity in the great outdoors. Increasing access and representation is important to my mission as a conservationist and writer. Through this story, I invite readers of all backgrounds and identities to imagine themselves on the river, a part of a greater story.
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