I've been working on a novel entitled Beautiful Boy for quite a lot longer than I care to admit. It's the most difficult thing I've written to date. I've never had a work give me so much trouble. As many writers will admit, novels have a way of getting away from you. Logic dictates this, as a character delineated a certain way must act accordingly. This has a way of really mucking about with the carefully rendered plot. (I know writers who don't plot their novels--but I can't figure out how or why they work that way.)
I've had the past four days free from my regular job. I'm happy to say that I've been very busy on the new novel and am well on my way to finishing it. Within a month or so I hope to have a completed draft of Beautiful Boy. As I write this, Sophie, queen of upstairs, hops aboard my office chair to check up on my progress.
Wish us luck.