Not knowing when to stop reviewing has consequences:

Financial. Quite often, work is quoted by estimating the time it will take to complete. So, once the project is approved, it is pretty hard to simply add a few hundred dollars (or more!) just because it took you longer to find a particular term, or you changed your mind about the first option and kept looking for a better match. When this happens, you can end up doing the work for free, even if the invoice is paid in full and on time. Do the math and you’ll see what I mean.

Lack of confidence. When serious doubts take over, they spread like wildfire. You could find yourself checking sources to verify the spelling of mundane words that you normally know in your sleep. Second guessing yourself isn’t helpful, to you or to your text.

Inconsistencies. Maybe the text is related to a previous section or even a different translation, and you begin to doubt certain terms or approaches that were used before. Flipping back and forth can help you to confirm past choices, but there may come a point when you get confused, or begin to doubt what you did before (see above!), and just generally “waste” time (see above!). This can definitely happen if you change your mind about a word or an approach at the last minute. Most often, inconsistencies are introduced when you change your mind without having the time or the space to confirm that the new choice is truly more appropriate.

[Tweet “Second guessing yourself isn’t helpful, to you or to your text. #xl8”]

Now, it’s not that I’m advocating for sloppy work. I am talking about extreme dedication that backfires, as described above.

Not to worry, though, there are some strategies that can help avoid the problem in the first place:

Stick to your schedule. Work carefully and consciously to complete the task to the best of your abilities within the estimated time, as much as you possibly can.

Verify with the client. They may already have preferred terminology or approaches, so simply check with them. If it’s something that hasn’t been encountered before, ask their opinion. They may have reasons for choosing one thing over another that you aren’t aware of, and involving them can put your own doubts to rest.

Take a break. When you feel the pull towards the never-ending vortex of revisions, stop the Energizer Bunny right there! Take a break, do something else or, if possible, sleep on it. Pillows are excellent advisors. The following morning, you can go back and read the text again only to realize that it is correct, and ready to go.

Trust yourself. You are a professional, you took time to consider your choices in the first place. Change your mind if new information comes to light, or you think of something truly better, but don’t second guess yourself for no reason at all.

[Tweet “Lost in revisions? Sleep on it. Pillows are excellent advisors. #xl8”]

Have you ever found yourself in the labyrinth of reviewing, reconsidering, revising and revising again, researching other options? We’d love to hear how you escaped from it!

Pilar Bolanos is a certified translator, former journalist and communications professional. Whether working in international news, international relations, as a translator and editor, the axis of her entire career has always been words. As Account Manager with Intralingo, she helps English-language authors find their voice in her native Spanish.

Translation work, by Erik Tjallinks, via Flickr.

Where do I look for a literary translator?

There are multiple professional organizations for translators. Some offer online directories you can search, job boards specifically for their members and/or can put you in touch with someone who knows where to direct you for your project needs. Others offer valuable resources, information on how to work with a translator, model contracts and FAQs. In addition to the list below, most countries have professional associations, so it’s possible to search for those associations online by source language.

• American Translators Association (ATA)
• Literary Translators Association of Canada (ATTLC-LTAC)
• PEN American Center (PEN)
• The American Literary Translators Association (ALTA)
• The Authors Guild (AG)
• The Society of Authors (SoA)

[Tweet “Hire a professional literary translator; avoid work-for-hire. #xl8 #authortips”]

Where should I NOT look for a literary translator?

In short, avoid work-for-hire situations and websites that promote crowdsourcing or royalties only for literary translation. Most professional translators’ organizations discourage work for hire and instead promote a combination of royalties, fees and copyright. Intralingo has written extensively on this topic for literary translators:

Rights and Contracts in Literary Translation

Rights and Contracts in Electronic Books Part 1

Rights and Contracts in Electronic Books Part 2

An Author Asks: Why should a translator get royalties when the story is mine?

And PEN American Center even offers a model contract for literary translations.

 Once you have a potential literary translator or two who are interested in your project, it can be tempting to flip a coin or go with the translator who seems the nicest; however, there are a few additional steps to follow that will help you make an informed decision. You want to ensure you are hiring someone who has the experience, time and professionalism for your project, so it’s appropriate to approach this as a job interview.

 What should I ask the translator?

The following questions will give you insight into the translator’s past projects, working relationships and availability:

• May I speak with authors you have worked with in the past?
• What is your view of the author/translator relationship?
• What is the best way for us to communicate when necessary?
• How much time will you need for this project?

Note: For a translator to answer this, you will need to have provided details and an excerpt of the piece, at the very least

What documents should I request from the translator?

This is a short list of potential documents that will help you evaluate the translator’s work thus far:

• Curriculum Vitae or Résumé
• References and/or letters of recommendation
• Links to published work or copies of published work
• A sample translation of an excerpt from the work you are looking to have translated

Note: the length of a sample translation can vary – as short as four pages or an entire chapter. You should expect to pay for the sample translation and ask that the cost of the sample be deducted from the entire project price if you decide to work with the translator.

A translator who has not been working in the field that long may not have an extensive list of projects and references, but should still be able to provide you with enough information for you to feel you are making an informed decision.

[Tweet “The author-translator relationship is built on trust #xl8 #authortips”]

One thing in particular you will determine through this process is whether you and the translator are compatible enough in your approach and viewpoints to build a solid relationship grounded in trust that will be necessary for your book to succeed in another language. (More on that in future posts…)

These first steps should point you in the right direction and the translator’s responses and documents can help you avoid some common pitfalls in the future, so instead of shouting, “My kingdom for a literary translator!” into Siri, Alexa or Google Home, start here, and let us know how it goes.

Readers: Have you had success finding and working with a literary translator? Please share a bit of your own experience.

Stacy McKenna received her MFA in English and Creative Writing from Mills College in Oakland, California. Her translations have appeared in The Other Poetry of Barcelona, Códols in New York, 580 Split, Cerise Press, and Río Grande Review. She has taught English and ESL throughout the Bay Area and worked at several nonprofit organizations including the Center for the Art of Translation. She has recently returned to the Bay Area after teaching literary translation and English at the Universidad Autónoma de Querétaro in Querétaro, Mexico.

Many of you may know Peter McCambridge from his posts here and here on Intralingo. This time, we’re pleased to present an interview between Peter, as fiction editor for the amazing publisher QC Fiction, with literary translators Madeleine Stratford and Arielle Aaronson, about their co-translation of Pierre-Luc Landry’s

Peter McCambridge (PM): It’s quite rare for a publisher to split a text between two different translators, except in cases of a tight deadline or one translator being unable to finish the translation themselves. What was the thinking behind QC Fiction’s decision to have you both work on Listening for Jupiter by Pierre-Luc Landry?

Madeleine Stratford (MS): In this case, I think the decision to split the contract had much more to do with the book’s structure than with a tight deadline. In a way, the novel naturally allowed for it, because it was narrated by two different characters. Arielle and I didn’t know each other before starting on the project. Peter McCambridge, however, knew each one of us separately, and he had a hunch Xavier would fit Arielle, and Hollywood would fit me. Now, here’s what made things even more interesting: in the book, Xavier and Hollywood only ever meet in their dreams; in real life, Arielle and I only ever communicated by email until we handed in a complete draft of the book. We emailed each other back and forth over several weeks, yet we did not meet or even speak to each other until we were finished revising each other’s work and ready to hand in our respective half. So, throughout the translation process, our relationship was purely “virtual,” just like that of the characters we were translating.

Arielle Aaronson (AA): When Peter originally proposed hiring two translators to work on Listening for Jupiter, I jumped at the idea. The decision is in line with QC Fiction’s mission of publishing cutting-edge literary translation: it isn’t customary to have more than one translator work on a book written by a single author. But the almost epistolary quality of this book provides a real platform for two separate voices. I was excited to be part of this literary “experiment,” to see if two translators could convey the change in tone between the characters, and of course, to work with Madeleine! I love how she’s tied our own story in with the characters’ story. I hadn’t thought about it before, but the circumstances of our relationship do mimic those of Xavier and Hollywood.

PM: Did you run into any problems working together? Any ways you think the final translation worked out differently than if just one of you had translated the book?

MS: No matter how much I try, I can’t think of any actual “problem” caused by our collaboration. I’ll say this, however: I was startled when I received Arielle’s Facebook message asking whether I’d be up for some peer revision. I was only halfway through my sections at the time and suddenly felt “naked.” Everything I’d translated looked “undone.” It was humbling to show a stranger drafts I was not nearly done with! But I felt better, elated even, as soon as we started commenting on each other’s work. Not only was I now sure we had each other’s back, but our correspondence spurred my creativity, often forcing me out of my comfort zone and inspiring me in ways I would have never thought possible. So, our “working together apart” was both challenging and incredibly stimulating. I don’t think anyone would (or could!) polish a text as much alone. It certainly made for a more accomplished, better thought-out translation.

[Tweet “Co-translation: enjoyable and a more accomplished translation #xl8 #listeningforjupiter”]

AA: One of the challenges of collaborative translation is purely organizational: we were revising some sections before finishing others, and it became fairly easy to get lost in the drafts. Despite my best efforts at labeling and creating folder upon folder, there were moments when I felt completely overwhelmed by the revisions. I also tend to think that as we co-revised, we came up with an amalgamated voice of sorts, which may have run counter to the experiment we were attempting; that is to say, to present the narrators through two unique voices. It was a very enjoyable collaboration nonetheless, and I would not hesitate to work with Madeleine in the future!

PM: Ah, I was just about to ask. I understand the voices aren’t incredibly distinctive even in the French original. This project was part of an effort by QC Fiction to show how more than one translator can be a good fit for a French author (a project that went a step further with their next book: I Never Talk About It, a collection of 37 short stories by two authors, with each story translated by a different translator from around the world). Can you think of any ways in which your translation of Hollywood, Madeleine, would differ from what Arielle might have done with his voice?

MS: Well, I guess authors always leave their marks, at least stylistically, so in some way, all of their characters share some similarities. Xavier and Hollywood, then, are alike because they both speak through Pierre-Luc. This is why it was important for me to look at Arielle’s work before finishing my own, so I could make sure that both our parts would still sound like they were written by the same person. That said, I do think that the feel of each narrator is different. In fact, when I first read the book (before knowing I’d be asked to translate it), I immediately felt drawn to Hollywood—and to Saké, I won’t lie—whereas Xavier left me wanting, in some way. What I mean is: their personalities are radically different, they have different entry points into the story, and different ways of expressing themselves. I’m first and foremost a poetry translator, at least that’s how I started my career as a literary translator. So, one of the things that immediately spoke to me was Hollywood’s poetry. In fact, his poems were the first excerpts I translated. I like images, sounds…and music, yes. No wonder Hollywood writes poetry: for him, it’s all about emotions and sounds. Xavier’s journal entries are much more philosophical, or indeed rational at times. I like to think that the way the novel was divided between us was ideal: each of us ended up with the part she most liked and felt comfortable with. That said, I feel that in the end, we managed to blend the voices smoothly. What was fascinating to me, though, was that some reviewers specifically expressed how different the voices were in English. And I can’t help but wonder: Would they have said the same thing had they not known how the book was translated?

Thank you, Peter, Madeleine and Arielle! Readers, if you haven’t read Listening for Jupiter yet, do grab a copy. If you have, how do you hear the two voices and the blending of them by two translators to reflect the author’s?

Originally from Ireland, Peter McCambridge holds a BA in modern languages from Cambridge University, England, and has lived in Quebec City since 2003. He runs Québec Reads and now QC Fiction, a new imprint of Quebec fiction in translation that has been publishing since 2016. The first book he chose (and translated) for the collection was Life in the Royal Court of Matane (Bestiaire by Eric Dupont), the book that made him want to become a literary translator in the first place.

Madeleine Stratford is a literary translator and professor of Translation at the Université du Québec en Outaouais. In 2013, she was awarded the John Glassco Prize by the Literary Translators’ Association of Canada. She translated Marianne Apostolides at the Banff International Literary Translation Centre in 2014 and was nominated in 2016 for a Governor General’s Award for English-to-French translation.

Arielle Aaronson has a diploma in Translation Studies from Concordia University and an M.A. in Second Language Education from McGill University. Her first translation, 21 Days in October, was published by Baraka Books in 2013.

Pierre-Luc Landry is an author, editor, and publisher and has a PhD in creative writing. He is a faculty member at the Royal Military College of Canada’s French Studies department. Listening for Jupiter is Landry’s second novel and his first to appear in translation.

Though Millennials may find such a statement puzzling (after all, you can find everything online), translators live by this rule, with the added onus of making sure that the information they find is correct. For this, we use reliable sources, that is authorities in the field in question. We know where to find all kinds of information on the topic of language. We are all familiar with the best dictionaries, hard copy and online. Most of us probably have bookmarked the website of our mother tongue’s maximum authority, if one exists. In my case, that’s the all almighty Real Academia de la Lengua Española, which posts its dictionary and grammar rules on its site, and has an email service where you can inquire about specific issues.

Photo by freestocks.org on Unsplash

Translators also know which is the best grammar book in our respective target language and are perfectly capable of finding specialized glossaries with a particular industry jargon, like legalese and even group-specific slang. However, these reliable sources may not always provide a satisfactory answer. These cases are the ones that lead us into temptation and make us turn to “questionable” sources. Let’s admit it, we are all guilty of googling terms…

[Tweet “Let’s admit it, we are all guilty of googling terms. Relying on unreliable sources in #translation”]

I have to confess that I have used a few less than perfectly reliable sources:

• Wikipedia comes to mind. This open resource is always available and has an answer for everything you can think of; the only problem is the article may be right, or it may be wrong.

• Open forums, chat rooms and the like can be very useful, but are also tricky. Though many of these are used by translators, I have found a few suggestions that lead me to believe the person providing a solution is not as knowledgeable as one would expect him to be. These open forums are handy, but you need to be able to determine if a suggestion really makes sense.

• Industry-specific websites and associations. When a term is specific to an industry, profession or sport, I search the websites of professional associations or sports federations in my target countries to see how they refer to the same term.

• Online stores can also be a source to find out how a brand name product is known in certain markets.

• Google images is a little trick I have used to make sure a specific term has the same meaning in its source language as the equivalent in the target language. I compare the resulting images of a search in one language with the resulting images of the “equivalent” term in the target language to see if the images indicate that they mean the same. It doesn’t work all the time, but in many cases it is quite conclusive.

• Call a friend. This is my last resort when digging has failed to come up with a satisfactory answer. My youngest sister is a pretty reliable unreliable source, since she is actually a Spanish language and literature teacher in the process of obtaining a master’s degree; it also helps that she has experience as a translator. But the real benefit of contacting her or my oldest sister is that they live in Mexico, where they are surrounded by the very words and terms that I am trying to figure out. I have also called Argentinian and Spanish friends with region-specific inquiries.

Any contact really can do in a moment of desperation or fast-approaching deadlines. Once I had my niece, who was the only person available to answer my call in the middle of the day in Mexico City, look into the pantry and read several labels so that I could confirm a commonly used term in the food industry.

All these resources are indeed valuable if we follow a very important rule that I carry with me from my time as a journalist: verify with more than one source. I would also suggest that your professional translator’s instinct can often be a good indication. If something doesn’t sound right to you, it probably isn’t, and it’s better to look elsewhere.

[Tweet “Translators can follow the journalist’s rule: verify with more than one source. “]

I would love to hear about your peccadillos. Share what unreliable sources have you used; it would be good to know another place to look for those recalcitrant terms!

Pilar Bolanos is a certified translator, former journalist and communications professional. Whether working in international news, international relations, as a translator and editor, the axis of her entire career has always been words. As Account Manager with Intralingo, she helps English-language authors find their voice in her native Spanish.

Why did you choose to write a biography of Archbishop Romero? He’s not exactly a household name outside Latin America.

Due to my interest and experience living in Latin America, I was smitten when Archbishop Oscar Romero became “the voice of the voiceless” in the late 1970s, using his position’s status to defend the dispossessed. The more I learned about his story—no one expected him to shake up the status quo—the more engrossed I became in it.

In 1998, I wrote a draft biography for young adults. I used existing sources and did not anticipate doing my own research. However, having found little about Romero’s early years, childhood through ordination, I decided to hunt for more.

So you just went to El Salvador and made calls?

A friend who lived in El Salvador encouraged me to visit. She linked me to a small nonprofit that connected me with knowledgeable people and helped me find publications I’d otherwise not be able to locate in the States pre-internet. The archdiocese also allowed me to do research in its archives.

And the Salvadorans granted you interviews and opened up?

Amazingly, yes, likely due to a few factors:

1. I find Salvadorans friendly and forthcoming. Several interviewees expressed surprised delight and pride that I would travel from far away to learn about a Salvadoran. (I visited during the pre-Pope Francis era, when the Vatican preferred to keep Romero out of the limelight.)

2. I had just finished a first draft, and I knew Romero’s story well. Names of churches, locations and key figures were fresh in my mind, greatly easing my understanding of interviewees’ comments.

3. Most of the interviewees were elderly—retired, unhurried, patient—who enjoyed sharing experiences. Some, however, had poor hearing or spotty memories. A few, especially those with little formal education, didn’t “get” my lack of familiarity with Salvadoran terms and slang. A third party often stepped in to smooth over communication problems. When I spoke with the woman who had helped in the Romero household as a tween, for example, her grown daughter explained the woman’s comments to me. Such willingness to assist humbled me.

4. I’m an unintimidating person and was fascinated with what each interviewee had to say. Such receptivity goes a long way to encouraging others to speak and be patient with an interviewer whose Spanish is less than 100 percent.

I asked mostly specific, often mundane, questions, such as how pre-seminarians dressed or the floor plan of the Romero house. When it came to more sensitive issues, such as relationships, as a journalist I knew how to gently reword and ask again until I teased out a reply.

Recording and transcribing the interviews allowed me to review conversations as often as I needed after I returned home.

What challenges did you face in using and translating Spanish sources?

• Feet Mired in Caliche

For the first draft, I relied heavily upon two English sources and one Spanish.

The latter, Piezas para un retrato, by journalist María López Vigil, assembled memories from some 150 individuals who had interacted with Romero. I delighted in these vignettes, bursting with color and slang, but had great trouble translating pre-internet, pre-WordReference forum, pre-Google Translate. Even with several dictionaries, I often could not locate a word key to comprehension. In El Salvador, I asked various individuals for help with phrases I hoped to quote.

Fortunately, by the time I began a second draft in 2013, Piezas had been translated into English as Oscar Romero: Memories in Mosaic by Kathy Ogle of the Ecumenical Program on Central America and the Caribbean (EPICA).

In her acknowledgements, Ogle named the squadron of individuals who had helped her with the task. I felt better about my own comprehension difficulties when I read her words:

“As colorful Salvadoran expressions and slang rendered dictionaries useless, I relied on a team of Salvadoran friends near and far to describe phrases in enough detail to help me choose worthy English equivalents. These consultations always generated moments of laughter and discussion—due appreciation for the linguistic creativity of the Salvadoran people. I am especially grateful to Zoila Elías, for whom no moment was inopportune to discuss the intricacies of Salvadoran caliche.”

• Bloopers and Betas

Beta readers corrected my bloopers nearly up to print day. José Artiga, executive director of SHARE El Salvador, burst my balloon when he told me a translation of a pre-seminarian’s ditty was inadequate. I had been proud of it, keeping the rhyme.

Here’s the original:

Como un arbusto oloroso
nací por Cacahuatique
Y cresco súngano y hermoso
aquí por Chaparrastique.

My translation, using the cities’ Spanish names, was:

Like a fragrant bush,
in Ciudad Barrios I was born and bred.
And here in San Miguel
I grow into a handsome pumpkin-head.

I had thoroughly researched súngano on the internet, or so I thought. Photos of it (large, round, brown rind and orange flesh) reminded me of cantaloupe. “Pumpkin-head,” I thought, rhymes with “bred” and is a word that junior-high-age kids might use to brand one another as dim-witted. Genius!

Alas, Artiga told me súngano is not pumpkin-like. Small spikes remain after the sungano’s flesh is removed, giving the fruit the name zapote cabelludo—“shaggy zapote”—in some parts of El Salvador. The schoolmate was making fun of Oscar’s thick, unruly hair! I eventually arrived at “mophead,” keeping the rhyme and a truer meaning of the jest, although losing the fruit allusion.

I’m so grateful for beta- and proofreaders who find my errors and guide me to more accurate translations!

How did I choose what to convey about the culture and context?

A critique group I belonged to played an essential role in fashioning content. I often erred by assuming readers knew more than they did. Chapter by chapter, critiquers showed me where I needed to add explanations or background. They were especially unfamiliar with Roman Catholic terms, including nuncio, women religious, diocese, miter, Jesuit, base communities.

Critiquers also indicated which material might be better booted to a footnote or exiled to a separate section. Their feedback about my fairly high writing level helped me see that the book’s audience could extend beyond teens to general-public adults.

I wanted readers to understand the era that formed Romero; his personal journey is inextricably tied to specific historical circumstances causing people to cry “enough!” to oppression. Some might say I provided too much background on El Salvador and the Roman Catholic Church. Others find footnotes annoying. But I’m addicted to details able to cast a more complete or nuanced light to a narrative. Readers can skip over footnotes if they like. I also included two mini-chapters— “backgrounders”—on pivotal events; readers can choose to “get into the weeds” or step around them.

Coming to the topic as a woman also helped shape the content. The biographies I had read, by men, contained skeletal info about Romero’s mother, limited to her roles as housewife and mother. The reality was more complex, and I came away believing that in every positive way, Oscar’s mother guided his life.

What are your tips for preparing for cross-cultural interviews, both in regard to content and ways to help interviewees feel comfortable with you and your purpose? Do you know individuals who straddle both the cultures and languages well enough to help you proofread and offer suggestions?

Emily Wade Will gained an appreciation of Latin culture while living for a year in Bogotá with a Colombian family after high school. Later, affiliated with an NGO, she taught secondary school in Jamaica’s hinterlands, assisted community development efforts in a central Mexican town, and served as a writer/editor in the NGO’s communication department. In addition to the biography Archbishop Oscar Romero: The Making of a Martyr (http://amzn.to/2vyezz5), she authored Haiti (Lucent Press 2001) and recently helped translate Land, Liberation, and Death Squads: A Priest’s Story, Suchitoto, El Salvador, 1968-1977 (Resource Publications 2017). You can find Emily on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pg/ArchbishopOscarRomerobyEmilyWadeWill/posts/?ref=page_internal

This was not a call for rebellion; indeed, presenter Jenny Lass’s idea was to “help editors (and writers) understand why breaking style rules can not only be acceptable, but also enhance their work and better serve their audience.”

Why would you ever break the very rules that you, as a language professional, are supposed to enforce to the letter? The simple answer would be to improve communication. We need to carefully determine whether a particular rule improves or hinders the conveyance of a message to a particular audience, in a particular situation.

We, as translators, have many opportunities to be bona fide delinquents and circumvent the language police. Here are a few:

• Author style. The most obvious place to start for a translator is when the author has already decided that a rule should be broken. The translator, in instances like this, actually needs to follow suit in order to reflect the original style. One easy example is when a particular form of speech—it could be a local term or it could be slang—is to be reproduced. In this case, grammar is not the main concern and breaking the rules turns out to be the best way to ensure authenticity or maintain local flavor for a character or a text.

• Clarity. Another instance could be to avoid misunderstandings. For example, sometimes it is better to repeat a word to make sure that the message is clear, even if every style guide and writing lesson you have ever taken suggests the opposite. This is probably more prevalent in texts in which accuracy is the main priority, such as a recipe or specific instructions.

• New words. They crop up all the time, especially in the cyber world, and quickly become prevalent, yet the language authorities tend to be slow to accept or reject terms. In these cases, the rule of thumb would be to make sure that the new or foreign word is clearly understood in the same context in the target language. One such foreign appropriation that could lead to confusion if context is disregarded happens in Mexico, where people have adopted the word “mail” as the popular term equivalent to the English “e-mail.”

• Lack of space. Certain languages are wordier than others. This represents a common problem for translators who have to fit longer sentences or a couple of words into the space provided for only one word. This may require a bit of grammar gymnastics to make sure both the message and the format are respected, with as little transgression of the rules as possible.

• Technology issues. Most documents produced nowadays are available electronically, often on websites, and these can cause problems with the language police when translated. One simple example of this happened to me while translating a website that had a fillable form. All fields indicating required information were programmed to be capitalized. This was fine in English, but it became an issue in Spanish, where more than one word was needed for the same field and only the first was supposed to be capitalized. In the end, due to the complications involved in rewriting the code, it was decided to maintain the capitalization, even if it was not ideal.

• Letters, characters or symbols. There are also complications brought about by characters that exist in one language but not in another. Sometimes it is not possible to produce these and you need to evaluate the consequences of substituting, for example & for and in English, or using the closest match, such as n instead of ñ in Spanish, or ss instead of ß in German.  Something like this could be irrelevant, or it could be very serious depending on the language, the context and the target audience.

So, every case requires careful consideration, but if you really think you need to break the rules, do so completely aware of why you are doing it, and have an answer ready if the language police come knocking at your door.

When have you deliberately chosen to break a particular rule? Let us know the results of your felony!

Pilar Bolanos is a certified translator, former journalist and communications professional. Whether working in international news, international relations, as a translator and editor, the axis of her entire career has always been words. As Account Manager with Intralingo, she helps English-language authors find their voice in her native Spanish.

In 2014, Renée Morel and I published Shipwrecked on Traffic Island and Other Previously Untranslated Gems by Colette. One of the questions that Renée and I mulled over repeatedly in our collaboration was when not to translate—when to leave a word or a phrase in the original language.

[Tweet “When do we NOT translate? “Sprinkling in a little French seemed to add to the ambiance.””]

We ended up keeping the French wording in a number of instances—never an entire sentence, just a phrase here and there. Sprinkling in a little French seemed to add to the ambiance—to use another French expression—and to intensify the colors of the setting for this collection of fiction and nonfiction by Colette.

I noticed that there were certain areas where keeping a French word or phrase would not confuse the reader, since there are aspects of French geography and culture that are familiar to most readers of English. These categories might be totally different for other languages. For French, these are the areas where it often felt right to keep the original:

• Forms of address
• Geographical locations, particularly in cities often visited by tourists
• Food and drink
• Stock characters from theater or pantomime
• Currency

Forms of address. There’s a phrase in Colette’s vignette “The Woman Who Sings” [“La Dame Qui Chante”] where an opera singer responds when she is offered a glass during a break:

“Merci bien, monsieur, mais la champagne m’est contraire surtout lorsque je sors de chanter.”

Renée and I translated this sentence as:

“Thank you, monsieur, but champagne doesn’t agree with me, especially just after I sing.”

We debated using the word “sir” for “monsieur,” but it just seemed to suck out the atmosphere from this Paris salon. So we decided to retain the familiar titles “monsieur,” “madame” and “mademoiselle” throughout the book. I can see making a similar choice in Spanish, German, Italian and Portuguese, for instance, where the equivalent titles might also be familiar and comprehensible.

Names of streets, parks, neighborhoods, etc. We made similar decisions about locations in Paris. We kept the word “arrondissement,” for instance, rather than use any of the possible English equivalents such as “district,” “quarter” or “borough.” It’s a word that you are perfectly likely to encounter in any English-language guidebook to Paris, so why lose the taste of those beautiful syllables, particularly since only the French would number the districts of their cities in a curling pattern that mimics the shape of a snail, and the word “arrondissement” retains the echo of the word “round.”

We also chose to keep the French for the names of streets and parks, as in: “Saturday she was on a traffic island in the middle of the Rue Royale…” How could you call that Royale Street or Royal Street? And do you capitalize the word “rue,” since the word for “Street” is uppercased in English, but not in French? I think in general it’s jarring not to capitalize a proper name in English, so I prefer to see “Rue” and “Avenue” in caps. Names of well-known parks in Paris such as the Bois de Boulogne we kept in French as well. We also retained “metro” instead of translating that word as “underground” or “subway.”

[Tweet “Choices to leave a word in the original are relatively easy in French. But what about other languages?”]

These choices to leave words in the original are relatively easy in French. Most educated English speakers, even if they’ve never been outside of their own country, have heard of the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. Translating it as “Avenue of the Elysian Fields” would only confuse. But what about translating the name of a street in China? I would think you would have to include the word “Street” or “Road” after the proper name, rather than only include the Chinese name.

Food and drink. There are French foods and beverages that I wouldn’t translate, again, to give more flavor to the setting. Some examples would be “café au lait,” “coq au vin,” “boeuf bourguignon” (though one could say “beef bourguignon”) “bouillabaisse,” “cassoulet,” etc. The key question for me is whether the dish is commonly known in the English-speaking world.

Stock characters. Because France has such a strong theater tradition, there are certain types of characters from the stage or pantomime that have also come into the English language, and are better left untranslated, such as “Pierrot,” “soubrette” and “ingénue.” I can imagine that with theater, opera or dance vocabulary in other languages, translators might also choose to keep the original words if they are widely known by English speakers.

Currency. Words for currency such as “sou,” “franc” and “louis” I feel work better in the original language, since they are familiar to English-language readers and add to the texture of the translation.

[Tweet “”There are limits to leaving an expression in the original language.” What are they for you?”]

All of the categories just listed seem to call for the translator to exercise restraint and not translate. But there are limits to leaving an expression in the original language. I remember reading an English translation of a work by Colette (I think it was Gigi) where the translator left in French the phrase homard à l’américaine. I can’t tell you how much that annoyed me at the time. I understood that it meant “American-style lobster,” but I wondered how many of the other readers of the translation would know that. Something about leaving that phrase in French smacked of elitism to me. After all, if readers understood that much, why would they need to read an English translation? Sometimes, it’s a mistake to leave the original wording. Like so many things in translation, it’s a judgment call. But that’s what makes translation so fascinating—every word is a judgment call.

Zack Rogow received the PEN/Book-of-the-Month Club Translation Award for Earthlight by André Breton (http://www.blackwidowpress.com/), and a Bay Area Book Reviewers Award for his translation of George Sand’s novel Horace (http://www.mercuryhouse.org/sand.html). His English version of Colette’s Green Wheat (http://www.sarabandebooks.org/all-titles/green-wheat-colette-trans-zack-rogow) was nominated for the PEN/Book-of-the-Month Club Translation Award and for the Northern California Book Award in translation. His translation and adaptation of Marcel Pagnol’s play Marius was produced by the Storm Theatre in New York City and by the Aurora Theatre in Berkeley. He teaches in the low-residency MFA in writing at the University of Alaska Anchorage (https://www.uaa.alaska.edu/academics/college-of-arts-and-sciences/departments/creative-writing-and-literary-arts/). His blog is Advice for Writers (http://zackrogow.blogspot.com/). www.zackrogow.com

When I was offered the possibility of translating a novel from Spanish into English for an author, I immediately realized two things: what a great opportunity it was, and what a challenge. I had to produce a sample translation of the first chapter of a complex work of literary fiction without having read the entire book first, and knowing my sample would be judged against the work of two others. It’s nerve wracking to put yourself out there, to pin your hopes on an entire book project in just a four-page sample. Thankfully, this wasn’t my foray into literary translation, so I knew that I had to slip into the author’s writing style, and wear it like a conjurer’s cloak, if Luis were to recognize himself in this other language. I pulled off that first hat trick. Phew!

That was only the beginning, though. I know that an author’s work is his baby, a cherished treasure, born of passion and sacrifice. As a translator, my job is like that of a surrogate mother. I am there to co-create, no co-opt. We need to formalize the relationship in a contract to clarify each of our roles and responsibilities. I have to demonstrate how I am integral to the process but a partner in it. I have to allay fears and doubts, convince the parent that I am offering to give birth to a new, equally beloved child, but will do nothing to denigrate the first born or harm the second.

[Tweet “I know an author’s work is his baby. I am there to co-create, not co-opt.”]

In a deeper, darker level of my brain, I know that an author sees me, the translator, as a sorceress who employs nefarious devices. And I know that I need to convey my true nature, as a nurturer, enabler, surrogate and co-creator. It’s up to me to convince the author that I am there to capture and convey the entirety, from plot and storyline to the inviolable rhythm of the author’s prose, the fine marquetry of his sentences. This author chose me for a reason, and I needed to show him that, as Man Booker prize-winning translator Deborah Smith says, “Translators are like authors in many ways—over the course of a book, we’ll agonise over individual words, dream about the characters, wreck our backs and eyes and relationships spending 14-hour days hunched at our computers.”

As we began to work, Luis came to truly understand that I was not about to kidnap and hold his child ransom. Meanwhile, I came to truly appreciate that he knew the depths of his baby, the way only a father could. And to my great relief, he didn’t dump that baby in my arms and run off. When I couldn’t make a sentence or phrase behave, he was there to tell me what had sparked it, how it had developed, and why it was the way it was. He was not only ready and willing but eager to share these details with me!

So far so good.

As we moved forward, I began to uncover the many finer, distinctive layers of this text, and I grew to respect it more and more. We had multiple intense email exchanges.

Does that Heimito Von Doderer quote have an existing/known translation into English? How about rendering it as “the sharp sweet tooth of memory”? I know this point-of-view switching was a deliberate choice: “Anyhow, lots to read. And he needed to keep in shape, too…he spent three quarters of an hour every day, before showering, on the Swedish gymnastics his notorious Uncle Jorge…had taught him when he was little…Uncle Jorge! A carouser, according to Grandpa Amílcar, who was exasperated by him. “You see, Daphne?” he would say to my mother…My mother would laugh…He had never thought about his family as much as he had in recent days.” It’s more subtle in Spanish, becomes a bit overbearing in English… Are you OK with that? Oh, and by the way, amazing, creative use of the verb pespuntear in different contexts. I have my own picture of what you’ve painted, but can you share some of the specific images you had in mind so I can make sure they match?

Oh, what fun to discuss the nuances of a text! I was in a translator-geek heaven, and Luis could see just how much I cared about his writing.

[Tweet “I was in translator-geek heaven and the author could see how much I cared about his writing.”]

I had won his trust. My fears now turned toward his acceptance of my work. How much was he going to be able to respect my choices?

He’s not an easy client. His knowledge of English matches—and perhaps even exceeds—my own, and when it comes to words, he’s a self-professed maniac. Those credentials meant I could leave nothing to chance or instinct. I had to know exactly what I had done, and why, where I would capitulate and where I would hold my ground.

I hope he found my behavior tolerable. I accepted every one of Luis’s (few) well-reasoned demands, and most of his (few) personal preferences. With the (few) others, I explained my reasoning, and invoked my right to make the ultimate decision. Luis didn’t blink an eye when following my wishes.

I am happy with the result and can solemnly declare that, whilst I am the translator of the English novel, and those words, that incarnation belong to me in no small measure, the big by-line on the cover of the book reads Luis Sanz Irles, as it should, and I am oh, so proud to be there beside him.

Stay tuned: Silent Shadows will be released soon! We’ll have a Behind the Scenes post in the coming weeks, and perhaps even host a live virtual literary salon for Luis and Lisa to chat about their collaboration.

Readers: What has your experience been in assuming responsibility for an author’s text, building that trust and collaborating to create a new version in another language?

If you enjoyed this article, please consider giving it a Like or a share!

Lisa Carter is an acclaimed Spanish>English translator. Her work has won the Alicia Gordon Award for Word Artistry in Translation and been nominated for an International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award. Lisa offers translation, editing and consulting services through her company, Intralingo Inc. (intralingo.com)

When I was offered the possibility of having one of my novels translated into English, I immediately realized two things: what a great opportunity it was, and what a challenge. It must have been my lucky week, for I was also given the possibility of selecting the translator from a choice of three candidates. After reading their versions of the first chapter, I picked Lisa Carter. A question of verbal affinity, I would say. Once I overcame the troubled amazement of reading one’s own carefully woven words in another language, I found that Lisa’s version had a tempo and an inner musicality which I thought were more mine that the others. Lisa it was!

That was only the beginning of my torment, as giving your text for someone to translate is like entrusting your own child to a tutor during a long forced absence. Will the tutor be the right one? Will my beloved child come out of the ordeal unscathed?

In a deeper level of your brain, the thoughts get darker: am I really going allow this witch to sink her filthy claws into “my” baby? How can she ever handle the inviolable rhythm of my prose, the fine marquetry of my sentences? Am I crazy? After all, there is inevitably something devious in a translation, and the mere fact that (as Adam Kirsch suggests) its very nature consists of “bringing the distant close only by erasing the very language that marks it as distant” already puts us on the alert.

[Tweet “There is inevitably something devious in a translation. @SanzIrles”]

As we began to work, Lisa’s tranquil approach to the job had a powerful, soothing effect upon my worst fears. She sounded reasonable, she didn’t act like the insane nanny that plots to take away your child pretending it is hers. She was okay with the fact that I had written the book and, wonder of wonders, she said she was ready and willing to listen to me!

So far so good.

As we moved forward, I began to enjoy her respect for the text she had been entrusted with. We had an intense exchange of emails to make sure we agreed on the overall style, the way she intended to work with my long (somewhat “Faulknerian”) periods, which the average English reader may be less accustomed to, a number of extra linguistic, cultural and literary references that appear in the book, and even other minor technical issues (but important from a marketing perspective) such as whether she would use American or British English. It was fun to work with her in those long preparatory discussions.

She had won my trust. My fears now turned towards myself. How much was I going to be able to respect her work?

[Tweet “An author ponders: How much can I respect a translator’s work? @SanzIrles”]

I’m not an easy client. Not only is my knowledge of the English language reasonably good (enough to read Faulkner, Nabokov and Joyce, to give you an idea), but when it comes to words, I am a maniac. Not the best credentials for a translator to feel comfortable about me, I’m afraid.

I hope she found my behavior tolerable. I restricted my comments to make sure she understood some nuances in the Spanish text and give her full command over how such nuances had to be transposed into English. (I only had to insist a little on that she didn’t varnish some indecorous words or profane scenes, and she didn’t blink an eye when following my wishes).

I am happy with the result and can solemnly declare that, whilst I am the author of the Spanish novel, the English version belongs to Lisa Carter almost as much as it belongs to me. I am glad to acknowledge that by having her name next to mine on the cover of the book.

Stay tuned: Silent Shadows will be released soon! And next week, Lisa will comment on what it’s like to work with a writer who is a self-professed maniac (about words, that is). J

Readers: What has your experience been in relinquishing a text into a translator’s hands, building that trust and collaborating to create a new version in another language?

If you enjoyed this article, please consider giving it a Like or a share!

Luis Sanz Irles (Valencia, Spain, 1952) is a modern nomad or, as he is sometimes called, a ‘true globapolitan’. He lived for one year in California (USA), nine years in Amsterdam (The Netherlands), five years in Venice (Italy) and has spent long periods of time in France, Germany, Denmark and Japan. A journalist, translator, aerobatic pilot and business manager, he speaks six languages and has traveled extensively throughout the world for the last twenty years. Literature has been his faithful companion throughout his life, “so faithful indeed, it has been hard to live up to” he says “but without it, my life would not be the same.” In the ’80s he published the book of poems Las gaviotas de hielo (“The Ice Seagulls”). Two novels followed: Una callada sombra (2012) and Tulipanes y delirios (2016). He is now writing his third novel, Leontiel. In between, he has written many short stories and hundreds of literary columns and articles. www.sanzirles.com Twitter: @SanzIrles

So why would anyone do it for free? I interviewed six translators (for free) to find out. My interviewees were Sue Burke, Mercedes Claire Gilliom, Armine Kotin Mortimer, Anna Schnell, Dorothy Potter Snyder and Patricia Worth.

[Tweet “Translation: Why would anyone do it for free? @ChristianaHills”]

First of all, what kinds of situations led these translators to work for free?

1. Being a fan of a specific genre

Anna Schnell

Several of the translators I interviewed got into free work because they were a fan of a specific genre. For example, Anna started translating comics and videogames for her own pleasure and to share with others to enjoy, which has in turn helped her connect online with other fans and translators.

Sue Burke

Similarly, as a member of Spain’s Association for Fantasy, Science Fiction, and Horror (AEFCFT), Sue has translated posts for the association’s website to help the association reach a broader audience, since such promotional material can bring more attention to work from non-English speaking countries.

2. Love of an author or work while starting out in the field

Armine Kotin Mortimer

As her first foray into translation, Armine chose to translate a work by Phillippe Sollers because she knew him and had written several academic articles about him, and thus cared deeply about bringing his work to English readers. Although she eventually found a publisher, she only received royalties. Thus the principal benefit of the work remained the positive feeling of bringing Sollers into English—as well her name being credited in the same size font as the author’s on the book’s cover!

Patricia Worth

Patricia translated a short story as part of a university course, but was then asked directly by the author for permission to have the translation published in a journal. This led her to translate several more of the author’s short stories and publish them in literary magazines. While Patricia wasn’t paid for the majority of this work, she found it encouraging to know each of her translations was “selected by strangers from a vast number of competing submissions.”

3. Lending a helping hand

Dorothy Potter Snyder

Dorothy runs a translation hive for progressive groups like #Resist by pulling together translators who are willing to donate their time to ensure that action documents are translated into quality Spanish for the Hispanic community so that they can be fully involved in their political defense. She finds the work ethically rewarding, in that she is “extending the progressive web” to non-English speakers.

Mercedes Claire Gilliom

Mercedes’ first subtitling job was for an independent film project in which most of the people involved were working for free. She nevertheless enjoyed the work because the film was of a high quality and gave her experience in subtitling, which in turn boosted her confidence to take on more subtitling gigs.

[Tweet “Ethical rewards, experience & confidence: rewards for translating for free. @ChristianaHills”]

What benefits did the translators discover in translating for free?

1. Getting experience at the beginning of their careers

All of my interviewees noted that doing free work can provide you with an opportunity to gain experience in the field, especially when you’re first starting out. As long as you have the time and budget to do so, it’s a great way to develop your skills. Patricia put it this way: “Because I’m [translating] voluntarily, there’s no deadline and no pressure to settle for words that are near enough but not good enough.”

2. The opportunity to try something new

Translating for free can be a great low-risk way to try out a new field, such as Mercedes’ foray into subtitling and Sue’s work in the Spanish science fiction and fantasy scene. As Anna recommends, “Never pass up an opportunity to learn something new, to grow, and to challenge your perceptions of what literary translation means to you, and to the world.”

3. Exposure

Many of my interviewees noted free work as a great way to “get your name out there” and build your translation portfolio as a new translator. It can also help you make connections with others in the translation world and possible future clients. For example, Dorothy works directly with a few women authors and doesn’t charge them for her translations, but partners with them when she gets a publishing contract so that they both win.

4. Leading to paid work

The exposure and experience gained by free work can eventually lead to paid work. Anna mentioned that in the Japanese comic world, free translation done by fans and published on the internet has become the norm, but it can encourage English publishers to license the titles in print and commission paid translations of them. Armine has done several full-length translations for which she is still seeking publishers, but she sees this work as “a kind of capital,” since once a publisher is interested, the work is already done.

5. Personal enjoyment

Many of my interviewees initially took on free work because they admired the work they were translating, and/or enjoyed gaining the translation experience. This made the work worthwhile, even without pay.

What advice did the translators have to offer about translating for free?

1. Don’t let anyone take advantage of your skills.

[Tweet “Translating for free: Don’t let anyone take advantage of your skills. @ChristianaHills”]

As my many of my interviewees noted, there are lots of big corporate clients out there who think they can get translations done for free, especially with the rise of machine translation.

Sue and Dorothy described how many companies will ask you for a translation “sample” or “test” as part a job application, and then use your translation without giving you the job. If a company or organization is using your work for their own benefit and can afford to pay you, they should. Thus it’s good practice to only do free work for those who really can’t afford to pay you, or as a way to enrich your own skills.

2. Only do free work that you enjoy.

As discussed above, free work can be enjoyable because of its content, cause, or the experience it gives you. But if you don’t find the work meaningful in some way, don’t waste your time, because it will not be of benefit to you. So don’t be afraid to be picky!

3. Understand your role as a volunteer.

Since doing free work as a translator means donating your time and labor, you are a volunteer. Sue pointed out that volunteers deserve respect, a sense of equal partnership in the project, sound guidance and feedback, thorough understanding of the project, opportunities to offer suggestions, and some form of recognition, even if it’s just a warm “thank you.”

So, while translating for free doesn’t lead to money in the bank, it can be rewarding in a variety of other ways.

Have you ever had a positive experience translating for free? What did you learn? I’d love to hear your stories and advice!

If you enjoyed this article, please consider giving it a Like or a share!

Any opinions expressed in this article are the author’s, and not necessarily those of Intralingo Inc.

Christiana was drawn to literary translation through her love of reading, writing, and the French language. Her passion is for experimental writing that seeks to create new kinds of literature, such as the works of the OuLiPo. She received an MA in Literary Translation (French-English) from NYU in 2013 and is currently working on a PhD in Translation Studies from Binghamton University. Her first book-length translation, One Hundred Twenty-One Days, a novel by Michèle Audin, came out in 2016. She lives in Raleigh, NC. You can find Christiana online at www.christianahills.com