There's an expectation these days that novels - like any other consumer product - should be made on a production line, with one dropping from the conveyor belt every couple of years.
I love the tradition of Dickens, where even the most minor walk-on characters are twitching and particular and alive.
Taking on challenging projects is the way that one grows and extends one's range as a writer, one's technical command, so I consider the time well-spent.
Everything takes me longer than I expect. It's the sad truth about life.
Children have very sharp powers of observation - probably sharper than adults - yet at the same time their emotional reactions are murky and much more primitive.
I just finished writing an essay about William Maxwell, an American writer whose work I admire very much.