Hello, all! I've decided to adapt my libretto into a novel. I would appreciate your input on this. I'm especially concerned about whether i ended the chapter too soon or too late.

Thanks a lot!
heavenly.


A sizable group of very official-looking men walked the streets of Kyzyl. They carried deep within in their hearts Stalin's famous saying, “"There is a person, there is a problem; there is no person, there is no problem." Their Soviet armaments and regalia clanked as they marched through the neighborhoods. Otherwise, there was a terrible quiet befallen upon the city on this bright spring day.


“Prime Minister Donduk will be purged at any moment, I assure you,” Ivan assured his superior officer, Nikolai Davidov. He confidently took a sip of his drink.


“I am gravely concerned, comrade Sergeevich. My intelligence officers tell me that there is a growing movement of Pan-Mongolism in Tuva, on the Eastern Front. Such an uprising would have dire consequences-a unification of Mongolia, Tuva, and Kalmykia would be a severe threat to stability of the Union,” replied Nikolai, with a look of nervous agitation.


“Fear not,” Ivan replied in his deep and thick style of speaking in Russian, “I am confident that Prime Minister Donduk will be deposed. At any rate, there are more important things to discuss. I, being a spokesman in Tuva's government on the Kremlin's behalf, am in an excellent position to affect change there.”


“It is clear that the strongest root of the Pan-Mongolian movement is their emphasis on the Turkish heritage of the Tuvan people. The fact that they have this general understanding unifies the movement and puts us at risk of losing a valuable asset if they decide to seek independence.”


“Indeed. Let me think about how to go about this, and we will meet again tomorrow.” They shook hands and departed.


In his home studio in Kyzyl, Anatoly was meticulously crafting a new painting. The gently flowing, murky Yenisei River and the surrounding springtime vegetation came to life with each stroke of his brush. A friendly rap at the door. Anatoly put aside his work for a moment. He peeked through the peep hole and recognized his Tuvan friend Kaigol-Ool.


“It is good to see you in your lovely home!,” Kaigal-Ool exclaimed, taking Anatoly in a friendly embrace.


“Indeed! It has been too long since I've seen you, my friend! Your Russian has vastly improved since I saw you last.”


“I picked up what I know from visiting the markets in Kyzyl. The soldiers only speak Russian, so I had to learn if I hoped to avoid insulting one of them and getting shot on the spot.” He cringed at the thought, and laughed it off. “Say, I admire your paintings. Did you study at the Russian Academy of Arts?”


“Not at all. It was simply many years of observing, practicing, experimenting. It is hard to get the proper materials since I rejected State sponsorship, but I made due.”


“Come, now. You can be honest with me. I'm sure you were clever as you've always been, and met the right people who arranged it for you.”


“Not so!,” Anatoly chuckled at the accusation heartily. “In my heart of hearts, I would rather be free to paint than to be beholden to sponsors. All I did was work for my teachers as an assistant to pay for my studies. You should be braver, my friend. Nature gives all of us gifts-we just have to have the courage to polish them to perfection in the face of adversity. Look here at my sketches from my years of study.”


He turned to a drawer and pulled out a dusty, leather-bound sketch book. It was about 3 centimeters thick. Anatoly handed Kaigal-ool the book. It was surprisingly heavy, and Kaigal-ool almost dropped it. The cover had a few layers of dusts. Thumbing through the pages, Kaigal-ool found dozens of sketches, many very primitive. The sketches grew progressively more complex and thoughtful as he thumbed through the velum pages. Graphite exercises gave way to marvelous small scale paintings. With a renewed vigor and hope, Kaigal-ool closed the book.


The morning was crisp and new. Ivan impatiently awaited the arrival of Nikolai. He hummed to himself the Soviet anthem to occupy himself, just as he had heard it sung by those marvelous tenors as a child.


The afternoon was pleasant, as if the sun were taking the earth in a gentle embrace, kissing the roaming organisms with a gentle breeze. Rada watched the breeze blowing through the trees outside while knitting a blanket from a wooden chair she had bought for the apartment flat. The chair had aged gracefully since she bought it from a Moscow market years ago, only months before meeting and marrying Anatoly.


“Look at him there,” she thought while gazing at Anatoly through the window doing his errands, “14 years ago today we were wed, and he is still handsome.” She sighed and looked into space longingly. “I wish I could have kept my youthful vibrancy as he has.” The door opened and Anatoly came in, fresh from his post-meal smoke.


“You know, dear, I don't think you prepared that meal quite properly. I'm feeling rather gaseous now,” Anatoly said.


Rada felt hurt-no “thank you”, no hug, nothing but a complaint. She frowned, turned away, and pouted. Tears began to glisten in her eyes and roll down her young, sweet cheeks.


“Darling,” Anatoly said with a beaming smile, “I know how upset you were that I forgot our anniversary last year, so we are going to do something special this year. Look here.” Rada looked on with anticipation as Anatoly reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out the gift and presented it to her. “2 tickets for an evening of dancing at the Moscow Theater. I hope you'll join me.”


“Yes, of course I will!,” Rada exclaimed, throwing her arms around Anatoly in a cheerful embrace. Her heart was full of love and good memories. Her laughter danced through the house. Even the peasants in the street could hear her, and felt a certain happiness in that laughter.

Dude...
thats like three chapters
and
well
who takes his woman out dancing with bad gas?
He sounds kinda sadistic but thats just me...

The dance won't be the same night, of course! It's only 1012 words, a typical chapter, as far as I know. I'm not sure why you think it should be 3. Please explain?

The one chapter encompases too many changes of theme
I hope I didn't state that too badly

Well, it does have multiple plot lines, which I will develop as the story progresses.

Like any creative work, it always seems to be "in progress".

Like it so far, looking forward to more.