This is part one of a picture post set. Yes, I sometimes do them! In this case, I went on a trip to Antwerp. (And, I’m sorry, but I will never be able to say ‘Antwerp’ without thinking of this.) This will be rambly and probably overly excited. (Sorry. I’m afraid I’m not good at formal-and-professional while going SQUEE. Yet. I may learn!)
I have musings on translations. Sort of. A lot of my musings are things I don’t feel comfortable sharing yet because I don’t know how other parties involved would feel (and whether it would scupper their chances in ongoing book deal negotiations).
So I have thoughts and musings on translations and their effects on a text, especially in light of the recent debate on diversity in SFF. And I have neither the words nor the comfort level to share them at present.
Instead, I thought I’d throw it out as a question. What are your experiences with translations in regard to their treatment of the setting? I’m not really talking the kind of translation that turns Tolkien’s Shire into Auenland or Gouw, but the kind that would take Harry Potter and rewrite it to put it firmly and canonically within, say, France and still market it as the exact same tale.
Yes, there are translations that actually do that. I’ve no idea how common or widespread it is, though. Hence my musing. Because I’m sure there’s a very interesting essay for someone in that about the topic and what it means for the discussion on diversity in fiction in general.
Please do also feel free to pelt me with links discussing the issue. I really don’t have the spoons to keep up with the discussion, so I don’t know if anyone’s brought it up and I missed it. Sadness.
Some days I want to say something about anxiety and me. And I can’t do it.
And so August has come to an end. Below the cut all the things I read/played this past month that wasn’t online fiction! Of which I read tons to try and catch up only to fall behind again. >> You’ll get a proper goals post later as I am tired and still need to write it up. This just required checking it over to make sure I didn’t forget anything. Yay being organised enough to add it all!
I was talking about spoilers on other people’s blogs and got a bit tangled in all I wanted to say in a “Reply to a comment” format. Spoilers are interesting things because stories are weird. Sometimes, knowing how a story will turn out significantly increases my enjoyment of it. Sometimes it doesn’t.
A good example is one of the stories I Beyond Binary which I’ve tried to word a comment on (in relation to some of the other stories in the anthology) without giving a part of the central device away. It’s not an unexpected device — in fact, it’s incredibly obvious once you start reading — but the thing that gave the story the kick it had was the fact that I had no outside corroboration of that device. It’s slowly revealed throughout the story and a great deal of my pleasure came from collecting up clues to prove it right. It’s not a mystery story, though those are another good example of stories where I do often find spoilers… not necessarily detracting from the story but changing the way I read it. If I don’t know what the mystery is, I get to guess at it and piece the clues together. If I do know what the mystery is, I read for how the characters piece it together or how the author framed it or the world-building or the characterisation or whatever else I find intriguing about the story. It’s a very different experience and a lot more like rereading. (In the case of Beyond Binary, the knowledge would have ruined the story for me because it would have taken away the one thing I connected to.)
I know I’m a little (okay, a lot) early with mentioning my monthly goals, so this isn’t a monthly-goal post. But I just realised that I’ve met my goals already!
*SQUEE!* Although, I grant, this is partially because I abandoned one of the books. (That said, I had a private list of five, and I did read that fifth one in full.)
Writing-wise I’ve almost written double my goal. I’m actively working on two short pieces right now. I’m still going over The Passage of Pearl and it’s going to need yet another draft after this one to make sure all the sentences still flow logically into one another. (Sadness. I’m not cutting that much, but what I’m cutting has been pretty central to the structure. I anticipate rough patches.) You do not want to know how utterly happy I will be to be done with that story at last.
And I’m working on a story for a friend. I have a rough first draft, but, like most of them, I suspect it’ll be utterly changed by the time I’m done. And then I have Made to Be Broken to work on as that poor thing has been waiting on a new draft almost all year. That should take care of everything up to October. And then I have thoughts for posts in my brain that won’t coalesce into actual posts (very annoying, that).
Murgh. I Fail at time-management. I should’ve been done with at least two of those months ago. But! At least I’m writing at all and I’m making good progress at last. I’m on the right track. (This is why to-do lists and imposed-by-other-people-deadlines are awesome for me.) But, there you are, some squeefulness and some ramblings on how the writing is going.
Note: This won’t be a list of stuff on the list. I haven’t yet worked back up to that one yet, but this is a discussion of to-do lists, how my first week used this format went and all such things. I’m not a stranger to to-do lists, though the past few times I’ve written them I’ve kept falling off keeping up with making them. It’s a shame because they’re actually incredibly helpful to me.
So, before I move on, I’d like to explain my history with to-do lists. I’ve always made them by the week. I used to assign items to various days, so, for example, I would spread out reading a book over three days. Then, if I decided that I wanted to read the whole book all at once, I’d shift those items to the day I read the book on and marked that they were originally from a different day. Sound complicated? It’s just the garbled explanation. Basically: I’d assign items to specific days and was flexible about when I actually did them as long as I got as many things crossed off as I could. I hope that’s better.
Eventually, I got the hang of what I could do in a day, but it all fell to the wayside gradually, certainly after I finished university. When I picked up making to-do lists again, I decided to adopt a slightly different approach from the “Do this on that day” approach I’ve never really stuck to. I take my week and go “Do this at some point during the week”. There may be fixed points, but by and large I’ve given up the pretence at decided I’ll do this item then and that item at a different time. I just lump it all into a big list of stuff to do and then shift it down to a record of the day I did it on.
Pretty simple, right? At the moment, I’m still learning quite how long I can make that weekly list. The first week’s list was a pretty good success. I finished all but two of the items on the list. I would have finished those if my Sunday hadn’t decided to go too far south. And, today, I finished up one of the two items that I had remaining. It was easily the largest item on the list, so I’m doubly happy about getting it polished off. I hope to get the last remaining item tackled tomorrow.
I’ll run out of things to do, most likely, because a lot of the items on the list are smaller and shorter items. That’s okay. I’m okay with that. A lot of the items consist of stories for me to read. I’d fallen horribly behind on them. They’re the reason I started a to-do list again. The structure helps me find cope for reading online pieces. Hopefully, once I get back into the swing of things, I’ll stay with it. The more things I try to do, the more I realise that what works best for me is a rough framework that I get to fill in for myself, with no punishments if I don’t make it and maybe, very maybe, a reward if I do just to serve as an incentive, but that one’s rare. The reward/punishment model only survives in the buying of books. (And even then I struggle to adhere strictly to the framework I’ve set out.)
That’s probably a subject for another post, though. But, yes, the first week of renewing my writing of to-do lists went well. The second week is off to a good start too and hopefully that streak will continue.
When I wrote about my goals for July and August, I mentioned that it might be an interesting topic to look at my TBR pile. I want to look at how it works, what it looks like, how I tackle things, etc. I’ll try and keep things nice and organised, but don’t be surprised if it ends up as haphazard as I usually write posts. I’ll just copy over what I’d started to write there and go on from there. See where I end up.
I like starting posts with ‘once upon a time’. I’m not sure why and this post isn’t about speculating as to the possible reasons. (Though, if you want a hint, distancing and the way it instantly turns autobiographical notes into a story — and we all know I can’t write nonfiction well, if only because I keep on telling you — are pretty high on my list of potential influences. Anyway, that’s not what this post is about, so let’s not dwell on it too much. Suffice to say I am deviating from the pattern because it seemed like a fun thing to do to get the ramble rolling.)
What this post is about is listening and why it’s hard for me (note that: this is not a universal thing. The below is very personal and applies to me only). On DreamWidth, lizcommotion was talking about listening and boundaries. There are a lot of things I could say in response to that post and there’s a lot packed into those statements that, in nonfiction (and probably even in fiction) I’m not sure how to unpack and show everyone.
GalleyCat posted a brief article about the books that scared us as children a little while ago. (You can read it here) and I thought, hey, why not? It could be an interesting topic to talk about.
Unfortunately, my memory of my childhood reading is incredibly spotty and I avoided horror books as much as I possibly could. I was a scaredy-cat. Still am, comes to that. So you’d think that I wouldn’t have a whole lot of interesting answers to give to the question of what books scared me as a child.