The gouramis are kind of put out, but it's not all about them...


( Fish! )

In other news, it's been a slow weekend writing-wise. I didn't spend much time at the Strawberry Fair in the end, but I still haven't managed to get much done because I was too busy catching up with Becky and fish shopping. I've done about a thousand words so far today, and want to get another thousand done before I go to bed. I should have been filling in application forms for jobs, but that can wait til tomorrow. My aim is get the first three chapters done and send them to James for his thoughts.

So here's proof that I am actually working on Silver Kiss:

 

( Snikt! )

So with the help of a local expert (thanks, Jones!) I finally got my new and improved fish tank up and running this weekend. I left the fish babies in the original, smaller tank so they can grow up without being pestered for sex by the bigger fish, and moved my mollies and platys into the new tank. Here they can mate unhindered (although hopefully they won't). I also put mt corydoras in there so they'd have more room to sit in the corner and never do anything.

I bought a pair of moonlight gouramis, ostensibly because they look pretty, but secretly because they'll probably eat any baby fish that come their way, thus helping to control the population levels. But all this news pales in comparison to my favourite acquisition:



Upside-down catfish! How freaking cool are they? As long as they refrain from breeding, they are officially my favourite fish.

Encouraged by the depraved example of the platys, my mollies have started breeding too. I have a pair, who between them have produced about twelve fish babies in the past two weeks, and the female is set to spawn again any day according to local sources.

I'm starting to think a bigger tank is not the solution. I need to put bromide in the water.

Against my wishes and despite my firm reprimands, my platys have spawned once more. The latest batch of babies are pure white, so they're really pretty, but they're also really starting to fill up the tank. My catfish have taken to lying on top of each other (presumably to save space, rather than because they're trying to spawn too), and my bloodfins spend all day dashing around in terror because every time they stop moving, a baby platy appears. If they all survive to adulthood, my fish tank is going to look something like this:



Except they'll still have their heads.

My cunning plan is to sell them. Platys are great starter fish, really tough little bastards. My advert will go something like this:

Dirty filthy porno fish for sale. Ring this number: 01223 PORNFISH

So last Friday I set off for the RNA conference in Chichester. My carefully formulated plan was to take a coach, which half-worked. I had a connecting coach at Gatwick airport that I was an hour late for, due to heavy traffic between Stansted and Heathrow. Seriously, why did the only coach from Cambridge to Chichester have stop at every airport in London? Why, I ask you, why? Luckily for me, I was able to catch a train from Gatwick to Chichester and arrived in good time to check in, find the bar, and start mingling.

I can't stress enough what a fantastic experience the conference was. Not only did I get to hang out with my friend Leanne (expect to see a historical romance from her gracing the shelves one fine day!) but I also got to meet a lot of fun, clever, talented writers. It was really motivating to be around people doing the same things I want to do. Kate Johnson, Imogen Howson, Lynne Connolly, Kate Walker, Anna Jacobs and Kate Harrison were all fabulous, with plenty of advice and opinions they were happy to share. I could have talked to Kate Walker and her husband all night - they were awesome. And there were free books! There were also books you had to pay for, so I suspect I may fall short on the council tax again this month...

There were so many great talks too, really useful stuff no matter how far along in your career you are. The weekend was over far too quickly, and before I knew it I was back at Gatwick waiting for my coach. Sigh. At least I was on time for this one. Next year I might have to put aside my fears of the London Undergroud and go by train. My only regret is that I didn't take nearly enough photos. In fact, I took one, which is pathetic (but it is a nice photo of Leanne, Kate Johnson and Imogen).

Back home, I was shocked and disgusted to discover my platys are still reproducing at an alarming rate. By my count there are now six additional fish babies in the tank. Chad has disappeared (eaten, I suspect) but Tad is now big enough to take proper pictures of, although he generally moves too fast to get good pictures. But I shall persevere. I'm not quite sure what I'll do if any more fish babies do appear. My tank isn't really big enough for an entire school, so I'm hoping they might got bored of having sex soon...

Anyway, now I'm back at work, which is chaotic and stressful. I broached the subject of quitting and moving home with my parents to write full-time, but they're a little less keen on the idea than I am. They (quite rightly) pointed out that living in the middle of the fens would soon drive me insane. I suppose I should probably wait until I've sold a book before I start making such plans in any case. A girl can dream though.

So if you look closely at this somewhat blurred image, I'm pretty sure you'll make out one of the fish babies, either Chad or Tad. (I had to name them. The others all have names.) I've taken the bold step of leaving the fish unsupervised this weekend, since I'm at my parents' and Pip is in London, and I'm hoping both Chad and Tad will still be alive and well when I return. So far nobody's shown any inclination to eat them.



And here we see the furtive-looking parents (or potential parents). I'm pretty sure these two are responsible for the sudden appearence of Chad and Tad, as they spend a lot of time skulking around in the plants, out of sight, probably having deviant fish-sex. It's usually a good idea to have two female platys to every one male, otherwise the male harasses the females to death. If they were people, that kind of behaviour would be unacceptable. But when you're a fish, it's all good apparently.



My other fish are rightly disgusted by the whole sordid affair and refuse to get involved.