I never thought being a writer would be so much work.

I thought, once I signed with an agent, that publication would immediately follow. But because my book was labelled ‘chick-lit’ (not a good thing in the publishing world, evidently), it took a little longer to find the right fit with the right editor and sell my book(s) to a publisher.

Job done, I thought smugly. That’s it – I’ve arrived. I’ve done it – thanks to the efforts of my wonderful, persistent agent, my books have sold. Bring on the champagne and the film and TV rights.

Wrong again.

The real work, a wise and much more experienced writer friend recently informed me, has just begun. And boy, was he right.

So… what happens after a publisher buys your book?

Well, after you finish screaming with disbelief & excitement, after you kiss your husband and go out drinking with your girlfriends and call and Tweet and text the news to all and sundry, then, indeed, the real work begins.

It starts with a lovely email from your new editor. You’re welcomed aboard, told how excited everyone is, and how much he/she/they look forward to working with you. Time passes. You bask in the warm glow of congratulations and well wishes from friends and family.

Then the second email comes. This one contains the first salvo over the bow of your laptop – a structural edit. If your editor is thorough – and mine is – you’ll find comprehensive comments on character development, dialogue, and motivation; plot inconsistencies; chapter balance; and, in my case, semantic idiosyncrasies.

Who knew that what we call ‘marinara sauce’ here in the US of A is called ‘passata sauce’ in the UK? Not me. But I know now.

Subplots must be strengthened. Names – even those of main characters – must be changed if they’re deemed remotely similar to a real person’s name. Brand names are used sparingly, if at all, and only if they add to the story in a meaningful way.

To your chagrin, you realize that on page 67, you used the exact same phrase in paragraph three that you used in paragraph five. And you did it again on page 192.

How did that happen?

You groan. You’ve got a full-time job. A house to keep reasonably clean. A weekly blog to write. And now you’ve also got ten pages of edits, some minor, some requiring rewrites and/or additional scenes, and all needing to be incorporated and turned around as quickly as possible.

Why in sweet Pete’s name, you wonder, did you ever sign up for this?

The answer is simple.

Because writing – being a writer – is all you’ve ever wanted to do, all you’ve ever wanted to be. And now that it’s in your grasp, you’re not letting go. All of the rejections (we like it, but we don’t love it), all of the tv shows you missed and the weekends you spent hunched over your laptop, are suddenly, gloriously worth it.

Yes, it’s hard work. Yes, you miss out sometimes – on reading, or hanging with your friends, or seeing the latest movie. But writing is – if you’re truly a writer, that is – something you can’t not do. It holds you in its grip, this obsession, with ink-stained fingers that won’t let go. And when it’s going well, spinning stories can be more entertaining than just about anything.

And honestly, how many people can say that about their job?