This blog is dedicated to those who ask the question all novelists dread. They do this not out of spite or meanness, but to show interest in the writer's endeavors. Little do they realize that each time it is uttered, part of the writer's soul shrivels and dies. In order to maintain one's self respect, the answering writer must sin. The Ninth Commandment is disregarded, swept away, as the writer assures the questioner that "it's coming along nicely, thanks for asking."
I am that schmuck.
Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money. ~ Moliere