I have just concluded the first draft to this monstrosity of a story I've been working on for what seems like forever (my story of genius, in fact). It was an experiment in a free flow, in which I kind of let it do whatever the hell it wanted to do without freaking out about What Happens Next. I'm pleased with the shape it's taken; I think it's going to be decent. Oddly, or perhaps appropriately (this is all pretty new to me, so what do I know), it kind of created its own logic and sense--some of which didn't strike me until later. So I think that's a good thing.
I have no idea how people do novels, though. I feel like I've spent an enormous amount of waking and sleeping time over the past couple of weeks pondering this aspect or that and having these characters flitting around endlessly in my mind. Huh.