On picking up where we left

I haven't posted any updates for quite a while. Mostly because I had nothing remotely interesting to say on the subject. Not that I consider any of my previous notes particularly interesting. Or that I have anything to say now. Save perhaps for the observation that translating fiction isn't quite what I've expected.

Don't get me wrong, the fact that I finally get to translate an actual work of fiction is most exciting. It's just that the fiction in question isn't particularly good. And here's the dilemma: should I translate the book for what it is, i.e. a mediocre piece of thriller with a far-fetched plot, unconvincing characters and not particularly interesting historical background, dutifully rendering the boring dialogues, the pointless descriptions and the vain attempts at humor? Or should I polish it up here and there, perhaps delete a particularly useless passage, perhaps enhance a description of a building with some detail that would help the readers visualize it?

So far, I've been doing the latter, but recently I've been thinking if what I'm doing is still translation. Or am I writing my own story here?

On attitude

I have reached a peace of mind.

How? Well, the way I have it figured, being a freelance translator means I could be brought down by two things. One, if the economy collapses for good. True, not a very happy prospect but too far beyond any control for me to loose too much sleep over it. Two, if I screw up. Ergo, I only have to worry about not screwing up, something entirely within and under my control. Hence the peace of mind.

Goodnight.

General reflection

This has already been published elsewhere. Still:

Translation is a bitch. Latex-clad, whip-wielding, dominating bitch. And we are the doggies.

I need a break.

On paradoxes of the trade

Observation: the quantity of translation jobs is reversely proportional to the quantity of time available to complete said jobs.

Now, I'm not complaining on people calling in, demanding my services. It seems, however, that customer service representatives and office managers at translation agencies have some kind of instinct, forcing them to call at the worst possible time. I should know, I've been one for a while. Or maybe it's the summer and the fact that most people are away on holidays and I'm one of the few suckers to stay behind and work.

What do you think? Hello? Anyone there?

On freelancing

Freelancing: 1. To perform a task on your own away from a company. 2. An independent worker. 3. To urinate without using your hands. (Urban Dictionary)

You know, there's something deeply philosophical about definition 3.

On proofreading

There's nothing glamorous about proofreading. It's tedious, time-consuming, underpaid and absolutely essential. Nobody cares about proofreaders and yet they are indispensable.

It's rather sad that the world holds so little respect for those brave men and women, who obediently and diligently disentangle the knots and puzzles left to them by translators. And the knots and puzzles are always there becasue translators are essentially divided into two groups: those who are behind schedule and those who don't realize it yet.

And proofreading can be frustrating at times. Well, an experienced proofreader is probably immune to that but every time I get to proofread something of, shall we say, questionable quality, even my wife keeps her distance from me as I yell verbal abuse in the translator's general direction. All the more reason to respect those who do it on a daily basis.

So the next time you open a translated book, take a minute to think about the translator and then about the man or woman who actually made the translator's work readable.

On ambitions and the disappointment that follows

When I first contemplated taking up translation as profession, I had ambitions. And not just any ambitions. I wanted to really make it out there. I wanted to be acclaimed and recognized, I wanted people asking and quoting my opinion. I pictured myself as the next Edith Grossman.

Noticed the past tense? Good. Because those ambitions are no more.

After a few years of deluding myself I have finally realised that all those things above will not happen. Why? Why, indeed. Someone believing in destiny or some other form of determinism would probably say it wasn't meant to be. Which really doesn't work for me, because I don't believe in destiny. I believe in cause and effect. Ergo, I must have done something wrong along the way. Perhaps I didn't try enough. Or I did but it didn't work. Or perhaps there is something wrong with my face.

Don't get me wrong - I'm quite content with what I have achieved thus far. I have customers, I make enough money to carry on without counting every single penny and the texts I translate are sometimes quite entertaining. In general, I'm OK.

And therein lies the problem. It's just 'OK'. Nothing more. I know that there are probably dozens of people who would gladly swap places with me and be 'just OK', but that's beside the point. I have put my ambitions aside, yes. I haven't forgotten them, though. Subconsciously, I'm still waiting for something. A breakthrough that would finally put me on the map.

And I'm afraid that's all there is and ever will be - waiting, until one day I realise that my life has all but passed in the general state of OK-ness. Which is not a very happy thought.