MA Meeting

(That's Musicaholics Anonymous.)

Hi, I'm Allison, and I'm addicted to music.

I think my music collection is too large.

I can't keep it organized. Not years ago, when tapes and CDs lined my bedroom shelves. Not now, even with iTunes and digital music.

For example, you'd think I'd know what was in my musical library, or at least have a vague idea. Yes, there are those times when friends give me 20 CDs worth of music all at once, but I generally know what they're giving me, even if it takes me months to get around to listening to all the new music.

But then I discover things that I had not the slightest clue that I possessed. It's a pleasant surprise, of course, but just a bit startling and confusing.

Three years ago, my first concert with a new chorus included the one-act opera "Cavalleria rusticana," which includes the heart-wrenching final tenor aria "Mamma, Quel Vino È Generoso." I had never heard this piece before. We were lucky enough to perform it with Roberto Alagna, a world-famous (and very attractive) tenor. After the concert, the aria was, of course, stuck in my head. I got home, typed "Cavalleria" into my iTunes search bar, looking for the rehearsal tapes we had been given to prepare for the concert. I also found that same aria. On a CD of operatic arias. By Roberto Alagna.

Sigh.

And now, it's happened again! Tomorrow, I go to perform Berlioz's "L'enfance du Christ," a wonderful holiday oratorio. The chorus has a lovely lullaby called "The Shepherds' Farewell" in the middle of the second part. It has, of course, been stuck in my head for weeks as we've been rehearsing this new-to-me music. But I wasn't even looking for it this time, I just have my 625-song Christmas playlist on shuffle. And what should come up, but the Illinois Brass Band's CD, which apparently includes a beautiful arrangement of that same tune, entitled "The Shepherds' Lullaby."

"Hey, I know that song!"

"Of course you do, dear, you're performing it tomorrow."

I also talk to myself. But that's another support group for another day.

Better Late Than Never!

So, remember this post? All about how I was going to send out holiday cards to colleagues and clients? Okay. So. Didn't happen last year.

BUT!

I have officially finished writing and posting every holiday card that I wanted to send this year. I DID IT.

One year late.

The lesson here: persistence is key. Especially when it's going to make other people happy, and bring a little joy to their humdrum lives. (Thank you, Lina Lamont.)

One Peril of the Publishing Industry:

Lead time.

There's that expression that goes: "Hurry up and wait." That is the publishing industry, from an author or translator's perspective.

You hurry up to get that manuscript to your editor...and then wait nine months to see it in print.

You get super stressed about finishing it, and tweaking it to perfection, and you're so excited/relieved when you finally do...only to put all that excitement on hold for the marketing push next season.

Or even before contracts are signed, you translate a new sample or write a new story as fast as you can to send out to all the magazines and literary journals and agents that you can...and then try not to sit around waiting for the response to hit your inbox, because it won't come for a very long time.

Then, when everything's done and you're finally ready to share your work with the world, and accolades start coming in...you're not allowed to publicize the reviews until they get published, which could be days or weeks after you're notified about them.

-------

In my younger days in a children's chorus, we worked with a wonderfully eccentric performance artist. At lunch one day, he got everybody's attention, because he wanted to share a poem with us. "It's called, 'Waiting,'" he said. He cleared his throat. Exhaled slowly. Gazed at the ceiling in preparation. Took a sip of water. Made eye contact with every single person gathered around the table. Stood up. Straightened his vest, brushed the crumbs off of his vest. Planted his feet in a firm stance. Clasped his hands in front of him. Took a deep breath.

And bowed, to giggles and a rapid crescendo of applause.

That was it. And it's the only poem I remember in its entirety from before age 15.

Hurry up and wait.

The Work-at-Home Blessing

Some days, you wake up, and you don't want to get out of bed. Because you're sick. You suddenly have a stuffy nose, a thick and scratchy throat, and a splitting headache right behind your eyes. It's not pneumonia or the plague, just a seasonal bug. A bug which most people will still go to work with, and which many people are expected to come into work with. (For better or for worse -- but that's a discussion for another day.)

And then, there are those of us who do the majority of our work from home. Clients on the other end of emails can't tell if we're sick. Just avoid videoconferencing, and it's possible to stay in your pajamas all day, propped up by pillows in bed, with a cup (okay, five) of tea and a slice of toast and a glass of orange juice and a bowl of applesauce and some soup, all close at hand. No one will know!

Oops. Probably blew my cover. You all know! My secret is out. Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh*coughcoughcough*...... Oh well. No use getting worked up over it. I can still work, and work well, at that.

Ah, the blessings of a freelancer.

Say What You Mean…

…but it’s okay if other people don’t mean what they say.

To illustrate: a person who volunteered to script out a libretto translation for supertitles emails you, saying: “This isn’t going to work, I need a literal translation because I can only put up one phrase at a time. How long would it take you to do that and send it over to me?”

They don’t mean: “This is TERRIBLE this is not what I was looking for AT ALL you’re such a BAD PERSON and a DREADFUL professional what were you THINKING!!!?!?!??!?!?!??!” (with exclamation points and question marks ad infinitum, because we all know that person…)

They may instead actually mean: “This is a beautiful translation, but I don’t know how to work with it. Could you please help me?”

So, don’t email them back: “Oh my GODS how could you be so STUPID and not APPRECIATE all of my hard work you’re a blithering MORON!!!!?!??!?!?!?!??!?!??!?!” (also because you don’t want to become that person…)

Instead, write: “The project managers and I agreed that a more poetic, lyrical translation would be best for this concert. I did endeavor, however, to translate phrase by phrase, instead of being completely free with the translation. The ideas in each line should still line up between the French and the English translation. Would you like me to send you a copy of the English with the corresponding French text lined up?”

Now, instead of being a terrible awful person, you are instead a pleasant, helpful correspondent who goes beyond the job description to make everyone’s lives easier. And then, the people you work with are grateful, appreciative, and even more complimentary on your work.

As Wil Wheaton says, don’t be a dick.

(Especially when the other person is a volunteer – they are only being nice! Don’t make them mad.)

Writer's Block

Translators are writers, too (I've written a post about that already). Which means, by extension, that translators hit writer's block, too. In both translation tasks and straight creative writing (which most literary translators also do -- more on that in a later post, I'm sure), there come certain times when you just get stuck. Hit a wall. Dig yourself into a hole. Run out of gas. Lose your momentum. Can't think of a single darn idea, not if you had to save your life. So, then, in response, there's this:

http://www.lettersofnote.com/2012/10/help-from-heinlein.html

I'm in awe.

It's a letter from Robert Heinlein to Theodore Sturgeon, from one writer to another, with literally dozens of unsolicited story ideas. It's a slice of an amazing man's brain, a strange and wonderful world where things happen that we don't fully understand.

Now please excuse me. I have to go write a story about a cat.

Other things...

It's great to have a well-rounded personality, right? Sometimes, I also write for other facets of my complex self. See here: http://www.themarysue.com/review-needles-and-artifice-steampunk-knitting-book/#4

The one thing that tends to link everything I enjoy is passion. I really, really, REALLY enjoy everything that I like. The word "passion" comes to mind. Also "obsession."

I love translating, especially translating literature. I obsess over one word, jump up and down when I figure out a clever twist, and sometimes worry about boring friends and loved ones with my mile-a-minute stories of current projects and why they're so endlessly fascinating.

But I do the same thing with music, and that concert that's coming up where we get to play an opera chorus for a while.

And with knitting, and the cables that I recently mastered.

And with reading, and the two three five books I'm currently nose-deep in.

And with F1, and last week's race.

In my opinion, people are most interesting when they're interested in something. Even if I have no experience in the area, or have prior (mis-)conceptions of it, I will listen to you talk for hours if you can convey your endless interest to me in a coherent, or sometimes not even that coherent, manner.

So have at thee! What's the next awesome thing I should know about? The dark side of the moon? Fluid mechanics? Rap? Rugby? I'm up for it!

Hey, it worked!

Well, Sandy came in. And left again. Left quite the wide swath of destruction behind her. I'm one of the lucky ones. We're high and dry in an inland suburb of NJ, on a hill. No flooding. Also, no downed trees, which were the big worry, with the giant pines in the backyard.

We still have no power, but we have running water. Running hot water. Oh glory hallelujah. Seriously. And gas, too. We've cooked at least one hot meal a day so far. And, there's a fireplace, where we've had a roaring fire for the last two nights. Power and internet are starting to be found, and cafes and the library. Life is actually pretty good.

AND! Here's the other thing! My goal to do more work, more uninterrupted work, has actually been achieved! I've finished the first draft of a big project, most of which was using pen and paper. I've fleshed out much more of a second project. And I've even done a lot of research on pirates -- I had borrowed some library books over a month ago, lugged them places with the intention to read them, and never had. And now, I'm done with an entire book, and halfway through the next, with rich new treasure troves of vocabulary and linguistic ideas to show for it.

Life is really good.

Sandy offers peace and quiet, if you know where to look...

Some eagle-eyed readers will know that I live on the Eastern Seaboard of the US, just a few short miles away from where the exact center of Hurricane Sandy is scheduled to pass over within the next day or two. I was trained well for emergency situations, and I was in NYC during Hurricane Irene last year, so my preparations for this storm have entailed checking the stock of flashlights and batteries (fine), non-perishable food (one more tin of nuts would be nice, but otherwise fine), water (another couple of gallons bought), and figuring out the safest place to be in the house if trees start coming down (the basement -- no other rooms of this house are windowless). Now, I get to sit back and enjoy the storm.

I would actually be okay if the power went out, which is a pretty likely situation. All the loose ends on my computer have been tied up as of an hour ago. While it would pretty much suck to be without electricity and Internet for a while, not only am I prepared to deal with it, but that kind of situation would greatly diminish the amount of distractions during the workday.

Call it a house-arrest/forced writer's retreat. I could sit down with a good, ol'-fashioned pen and notebook, and really concentrate hard on translating. On the voice, and the rhythm, and the word choice, finding things from my own brain, instead of relying on the crutch of online dictionaries and thesauruses (thesauri? whatever).

Maybe it's nostalgia for a simpler time that never existed; maybe it's a burning curiosity to see if I really can be persuaded to work without the onslaught of my usual tools; maybe it's just wishful thinking. Here's the thing -- everyone will be staying home from work tomorrow. Everyone will be here. And bored.

Distractions galore.

Oh well. Maybe I can retreat to a dark corner of the house and blow out my candle. No one will find me then!

(This only works if you're in the Northern Hemisphere. Replace "north" with "south" for Australia and those parts of Africa and South America below the Equator.)

We have so much power. Climb into a car, a simple piece of machinery, really, it's been around for decades going on centuries, everyone has one. Slide a tiny strip of metal into a specific slot, tweak it a bit, and start flying across the ground. Drive north. We hold the power of time in our hands, and feet. The ability to fast forward through the seasons. Dry heat sinks give way to muggy swamps, buzzing with life, which cede to warm sun and cool breezes blowing through red and golden leaves, which melt away into chilly air and bare branches.

No longer at the mercy of the skies are we. Watch the colors change, from green to brown, and fade away. Feel the power under our palms, coursing through the gas tank, tires gripping miles and miles of ribbony tarmac.

Seriously. Guys. Technology is SO COOL. Planes, trains, automobiles. All this fancy mechanical stuff can even help us appreciate nature more. I always request a window seat on an airplane, to watch the sunrise or the cloud-sea or the patchwork quilt of farms. I'd prefer to be a passenger on a roadtrip, not because I don't like driving, but to revel in the trees or the snow or the setting harvest crescent moon.

(Should I try to tie this into translation as a profession? Planes are awesome because you can visit anywhere you want to in the world. New cultures, new people, new food, new sights, new nature. The world is an amazing place. I learned French, and I translate, and I'm working on learning Arabic, because I'm trying to satiate my curiosity for everything that's out there, all the beautiful wonderful things, and share those things with everyone. Complete satisfaction is never going to happen, though. And that's almost as cool as all the cool things out there.)

P.S. Kayaks are also time-travel machines. Thanks, xkcd.