Things I've Learned: Ask the questions that need asking

This starts with the contract. So many questions that you'll have along the way can be answered while discussing the contract. Feel free to start with the offered contract, or with the PEN model contract, and work from there. Figure out WHY things are done the way they are. For example, if your contract is a work for hire contract, that actually means that you'll most likely have little to no say in the editing process, for better or for worse. But ask up front. "How involved will I be expected and allowed to be in the editing process?" Will I ever see my translation between the final draft and the published book?

Another thing: payment. Maybe you're going to get paid upon final delivery. Great. But is that payable on receipt? Is it Net 30? You'll feel better if you know when your money is coming in, and if you know it sooner rather than later.

Next, before you even start translating, talk to the editor. After you've read the book send her/him a list of stylistic questions. "How do you want me to handle the historical present tense?" "How much slang are you comfortable with this character using in English? There are equivalents to XYZ in the original."

Just ask. Ask your editor, the admin assistant, anyone who's involved. Don't be afraid of asking stupid questions, because chances are, they'll all be important at some point.

P.S. This was a tough love letter to myself. Dear Allison, I'm writing to you. Fix your mistakes. Learn from them. Do better next time. I know you can.

Research Tools

Regarding the researching I mentioned yesterday, here are some of the tools that I've found most useful so far, as a translator, a linguist, and a writer:

WordReference: Congratulations. You now have a basic bilingual dictionary, completely searchable, including both the Oxford bilingual dictionary (usually -- depends on the language combination) and entries on phrases, idioms, and a myriad of other expressions from users all around the world. Yes, the user-defined fields must be taken with a grain of salt, and the forums are sometimes more hindrance than anything else, but it's a good place to start. Of course, it doesn't include an exhaustive list of languages, but they've got most of the major ones.

Linguee: This service is just starting out, and so far, it's just between English and German, Spanish, French, and Portuguese. But what it IS, is a pretty good dictionary combined with a search engine that pulls already-bilingual documents from all around the Internet with your phrase in it, to see how it's been translated elsewhere. Right now, it's a lot of EU and UN documents, as well as some multinational companies, so it's not going to help for non-commerce requests. It's still hit or miss, but it promises so much more as it grows!

Oxford English Dictionary and Historical Thesaurus: Their online databases are a paid service, but I would bet you anything that your library offers a way to login for free (NYPL members, go here). And oh, the rich detail in the entries! The dictionary is the best in the English language. The thesaurus gives you every word that could possibly ever be linked with your chosen word, in a convenient tree form. (According to them, every word in the English language can be filed under three categories: the external world, the mind, and society.)

A monolingual source dictionary: Even as a translator, this is an invaluable resource. When you come across a word you don't know, or aren't quite sure how it works in that particular context, look it up in your source language first. See if you can figure out what it means for yourself, then try to find a good translation on your own, before relying on someone else's ideas.

Listservs/LinkedIn groups/other: These are your personal connections with colleagues when you work from home. Right now, I'm on...five lists? I think? Two French lists, one literature list, one business list, one local translators list. Yes. Five. Invaluable for keeping sanity intact and asking questions that you should know the answer to, but don't, for whatever reason. Also, general commiseration and congratulations, when the time warrants it.

There are more, of course, but more entries of resources will inevitably follow. For now, I'm off to use my own list!

Things I've Learned: Research Early, Research Often

Seriously. Just do it.

Oh, more information? Right.

I thought I was being very smart, researching all the vocabulary I needed as I went along, as well as most of the historical references. (Did you know, for example, that Nadar was a pioneer in both photography and hot air ballooning, making him the first aerial photographer?)

But as it turns out, I had always left a few terms in each chapter to look up later. To check with other sources, other people. And then there was the pesky little problem of primary source translations. Some of a famous French author's work would undoubtedly be translated into English, no? So those translations should probably be the ones cited in my work, instead of trying to reinvent the wheel and do them all myself.

All this work kept piling up, and suddenly, I was three weeks from deadline with only enough time budgeted to finish a few last translations and re-edit everything. This, folks, is what you call a time crunch. And I got it done, because that's what you do.

But there is much more to translation than just translating. There is searching, and researching, and re-searching, and re-researching. There is asking around, and begging, and digging, and hunting. There is editing, and proofing, and rereading, and storming around the house because you can't find that one perfect word. Then, when you find what you were looking for, you realize it doesn't actually work.

Oh, and translating also includes the mountain of daily emails, and marketing yourself, and doing samples, and looking for new clients, and keeping existing clients happy. Literary translators usually have other work to keep themselves afloat.

It's a delicate balancing act, keeping all of that up in the air. But it's doable. And kinda fun.

"And I know things now, many valuable things, that I hadn't known before..." - Little Red, Stephen Sondheim's "Into the Woods"

Exit Waking World, Enter Subconscious

I had a very vivid dream this morning just before my alarm clock went off.  It was an Indiana-Jones-meets-video-games puzzle, a carnival booth in a dank cave in which I had to open a chest in order to receive my prize, or move onto the next level, or not die (dreams are sometimes weirdly non-specific about motivations).  There were pressure plates, and supplies for small explosives, and pulleys and levers, and buckles and snaps, and lots of sand.  And an egg, but I don't think that's relevant. I had to use contextual clues to figure out how to open the chest, plus a healthy dose of trial-and-error.  What happens if I connect this buckle to this pulley, then to this pressure plate?  Nothing explodes?  Okay.  What if I connect all six pressure plates to the same weight?  The chest moves closer?  Great.

Of course I woke up before the dream ended, but I'm still intrigued.  Puzzles!  Logic!  Mental tests!  Tips from the context!  Trial and error!

Oh.  I must be translating literature again.

:-)

Translators are writers, too.

One of the perks of working in a publishing house is the ability to ask anyone a question that should be common knowledge, but isn't, either to you or to the general public.  (These could also be called "stupid" questions, but let's be nice here.)  I asked a question to the senior editor recently that I thought was relatively benign: "How many of your translators have literary agents?"

Well, as it turns out...none.

Well, one does, but he's more of a foreign rights go-between from France.

Why does this matter?  Not all authors have agents.  But many do, including all the big bestsellers.  And look closer: the contract for a book-length translation is, more often than not, paid with a certain sum per 1000 words.  In most instances, literary translators are contractors, providing work-for-hire.  Which maybe makes some semblance of sense to some people, but not for me, and not for many others.

Literary translators are authors.  They are creative minds.  Literary translation is not a process of "what does this mean?", which is similar to summaries and reviews and college-level literature classes.  Instead, it is a process of "how can I best convey the words, the style, the meaning, the metaphors, the language, the feel of this work of art into my own language?".  It is a creative process, albeit a transformative one.

I'm not going to belabor this point, mostly because there are others out there (*cough cough Chad Post at Three Percent**) who expound this point much more lucidly and better informed than I can.  But why is it general consensus -- so much so that I shared this opinion before I seriously considered translation as a career -- that translators perform a service instead of creating a piece of their own?  It's not something commonly thought of.

Think of that today.  Think of a book you love that was only made possible by a translator: Don Quixote for Americans, Shakespeare for Germans, Proust for Russians, Tolstoy for Chinese.  Think of that, and you have my blessing and thanks.

From out of the blue

Sometimes, people call you from out of the blue.  Completely.    There's absolutely no connection to an existing client, or personal friend, or cousin's ex-husband's business partner's mother's sister-in-law's lawyer*, or anyone else.  

I just finalized a small job for a woman who I cannot for the life of me figure out how she knows I exist. But as I thought about it, there are actually many ways she could have found me.  Maybe she was directed to my website by someone.  Maybe she looked up the ATA database, or the NYCT database, and just started down the list.  Maybe she saw an article I wrote for one of the ATA division newsletters.  She could have even Googled "French translator Brooklyn", although I'm not entirely sure where I pop up on that list.  Maybe someone threw one of my business cards away and the trash can fell over and my card happened to catch her eye.  Who knows, really?

The point is, those are only a few ways that she could have found me.  All of them are valid, and all of them are useful (except for maybe that last one with the garbage).  I personally don't use every service available to me (I've almost given up on Twitter, I only spend limited time on LinkedIn, etc.), but apparently, all those avenues of promotion pay off.  It's a nice ego boost to know you're doing something right.

------

*I will bake you cookies if you figure out who this person is in your life.

I'm a published writer!

This is a huge deal for anyone, especially those just starting out.  And look at me!  I've gotten a review published in the newsletter of the ATA's Slavic Languages Division.  Woohoo!! See page 26: http://www.ata-divisions.org/SLD/slavfile/SlavFile_vol.21.no.1.Winter.pdf

But wait, you say.  Aren't you a French speaker?  Do you know anything about Russian?

Well, I've sung in Russian before, but I don't think that counts.  But...I'm a singer.  I'm interested in music, and the translation thereof.  Just read the fracking review, you'll understand.

Now, please excuse me while I jump around and squeal in sheer delight.

A How-To Guide

(Not my own.  Sorry.)

There is a lot of advice out there on how to get started as a translator.  Some very nice people have written some very nice blog posts about tidy little steps you can take to break into the world of translation.  I am eternally grateful to all of them for making my life (and, undoubtedly, other newbie translators' lives) that much easier.

The instant you ask about literary translation, though, the mood changes.  People clam up.  They spew spitfire warnings about the dying industry.  Excuses appear: "well, I'm not really a literary translator -- I just do that on the side."

Well, not everyone.  Literary translation is a niche subset of the translation field, so there are considerably fewer blogs and articles written about it.  But resources exist, even online: ALTA's guides are fantastic.  Other people may not have a blog, so you have to -- the horror, the horror! -- search them out in person and actually talk to them.  But they're quite nice.

And then, there's this guy:

Literary Translation in Quebec

He's Peter McCambridge, and he's a newly minted literary translator.  He humbly presents a very frank and open list of rather specific steps and extremely pertinent resources to use.  How cool is that?

I raise my glass to you, good sir.  You do us a great honor.

Just Say No

Drugs are harmful to your body.  Just say "no" when offered them.  It's as simple as that.  Or so all elementary-aged American children were told in the 80s and 90s.  Simple?  Maybe.  Peer pressure builds up, though. Now, we're older.  Some of us are freelancers.  Sometimes, we get offered jobs -- or offered the possibility of jobs -- that we know we shouldn't take.  Why?  We'll have to deal with demeaning project managers.  The work is mindless.  We'd be translating very poorly written copy from the source language.  We'll lose an entire night's sleep to get the job done.  It's harmful to our bodies, and to our sanity, and especially to our happiness.

Even so, when a new agency approached me with the offer of possibly working together, we haggled on rates a bit, I listed my specializations (at their request, which is important for later), and I agreed to do a small test for them.  I stipulated that, since the test would be unpaid, I'd only do a small one, less than 250 words.  A reasonable amount of work for a test.

They then sent me three tests to choose from (nice!).  But wait...all the tests were over 500 words, and none of them fell even remotely within my specializations.

Enter the psychological pressure: "I'd really like the work."  The brain rushes through countless excuses for why I should just buckle down and slog through the test, but they all boil down to "I'd really like the work."

Let's be clear.  I don't know if I'd get any work, or if I'd be at all qualified for the work I'd receive (based on these tests), or if I'd enjoy the work that I was qualified for.  But still, brain goes, "I'd really like the work."

Fortunately, I have an Other Half.  He reminds me that I can, in fact, overrule my worried brain with logic.  What's the point of doing a long, unpaid test that may lead to work that's most likely not in my area that I probably wouldn't enjoy for a lower rate than I normally charge?  None.  There's no point at all.

Just say no.

(Do so respectfully, of course.  But just say no.)

Putting it together

And now, a message from the man who I would choose as my favorite Broadway composer if you put a gun to my head: http://youtu.be/rJFz-ucuTvs?t=5m27s

The last few days and weeks have been accidentally dedicated to making connections and crafting some foundations to build upon as I work towards what I really want to do.  My agenda said benign things like "lunch seminar with CL" or "DN after work" or "NYCT Holiday Brunch".  Benign scribbles become major opportunities, though:

Lunch seminar with CL = Meet the person who does exactly what you want to do; talk as best you can without stumbling over words too many times; she lives six blocks from you? great. get lunch sometime; get contacts; try not to drool

DN after work = Talk for an hour about nothing and everything with colleague of a colleague, then have her ask "What can I do to help you?"...try not to admit that just hearing her talk about the industry was enough, but now she'll reread your cover letter/marketing pitch

NYCT Holiday Brunch = Network, network, network; volunteer for things you didn't know existed or were available; now I'm probably the assistant editor of the association's newsletter? wait, how did that happen? That's...cool.

Putting it all together will take time, marinating, and a dash of luck.  Possibly a whole cup.  Maybe more.  I just have to make the right preparations to be ready for when that perfect opportunity falls into my lap.  There seems to be little other way to do it.

Very few people can make their living doing literary translation.  Even fewer who are not in academia.  But they do exist.  Would that I should be one someday.