W1.1K

Good writing last night--I logged 1,100 words, a definite improvement over the previous two nights' work. And I did it in spite of yet another string of interruptions. I'm not entirely sure the pacing of the chapter works, but I did manage to include the key story elements I needed without having the chapter balloon into something monstrously long. I'm particularly pleased with the sequence this sample comes from:

Late that night, long after the midnight vigil had concluded and everyone in the Kostel slept soundly, Jachym crept into the Muzsky Chapel. His hair had been cut away, leaving only stubble. He circled the altar warily, regarding it in the thin slivers of moonlight that slipped in through the cracks of the shuttered windows.

He stopped at the wetsilver font. Breathing heavily, he knelt, sticking a finger into the wetsilver. Nothing happened. He swirled his finger around the metallic liquid, then pulled it out. He considered his finger a moment, then licked a silvery droplet from it. He spat.

Placing his hands atop the altar, he hoisted himself up. He stood atop the marble slab, feet straddling the blood basin.

"Almighty Tvůrce," he said softly, "your humble servant wishes to offer proper thanks for all the blessings you've bestowed upon me. It may not mean much to you, but I mean it with all my heart."

So now that the big transitional chapter is behind me, I get to dive into the interesting meat of the story. I'm excited, because I'm finally building up some internal narrative momentum, in a creative, writerly sense. Jachym thinks the choices he's just made will make his life easier. To be fair, anyone in his situation would've made the same choice if they had any spine at all. But Jachym doesn't have clue one that the wider world is much wider than he could possibly imagine.

16,750 / 90,000 (18.6%)

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