I guess I am working on Grail tonight.
Forgive me, Father, for I am murdering darlings.
And right now, killing a whole bunch of lovely, meditative exposition that arcaedia rightly thinks slows the book down a lot.
Including this bit that I really like, so you get to read it here:
When Perceval allowed herself to rise toward the surface, she slid through schools of creatures no larger than the palm of her hand, while in the dimmer depths lurked armored freshwater Chinook like sleekly legless hippopotami.
Perceval dove to swim beside one, sucked along in its wake, each slow oscillation of its powerful tail stirring swirls of debris and organic matter from the River's bed. It massed four or five times what she did; when she reached out and brushed its titanium-laced battleship plating with her hand, it took no more notice of her than she might of the wings of a passing butterfly.
Bye bye, pretty self-indulgent synbiotic salmon. Write if you get work.