Writing a book is like listening to a Wagner opera. It is an epic, dramatic exercise – and it requires stamina. Above all, though, it never ends. When you finish a manuscript and send it off to the publisher, that is not the end of the story. It comes back again and again, with question and query followed by question and query. There are maps to think of, and images. Then there is the copy to put on the flap of the book. Then questions about which photo to use. And then, of course, there is the climax itself: throwing oneself at the mercy of family, friends, reviewers and – in today’s world – Joe (or Jenny) Public. Even before I had finished writing it or allowed anyone to read a single page, one person had decided to give it one star on Goodreads. There’s an operetta there, surely.