I’ve found that I tend to often read new books – ones that have been typically released in the last year – especially in relation to the activity of translators. I thought I would try to break out of this habit slightly this quarter and have a look at some books that have been around longer – to see whether they have stood the test of time, as well as also to start a concerted approach to read more pre-Internet literature. As always there are some translation-related books – which can serve to gauge whether some of the current problems faced by the profession are new or in fact resurfacing.
Anat Admati and Martin Hellwig, The Bankers’ New Clothes
Chris Durban (Ed.), The Prosperous Translator: Advice from Fire Ant & Worker Bee
Michael Farrell, A Guide to Machine Translation for today’s Professional Translator
I woke up earlier this month to a deluge of alerts on my phone about the news that a milestone of the Trump 2.0 administration was the appointment of Elon Musk to the “Department of Government Efficiency”. Which will be abbreviated to DOGE. Nice one Space Karen. I am currently actively in the eXit process, after discontinuing my active involvement on Musk’s toXic platform in the summer. It was part of a bid to stop doom scrolling. Doom scrolling had resulted in me learning about the tragic circumstances and aftermath of a friend’s untimely death.
I therefore sought solace by retreating more to the pages of books, either as physical editions or Kindle editions. Reading books help you learn – both for and about yourself. They also make you think, whereas much of social media seems to serve little cognitively enriching purpose. Possibly social media remains my vice at the moment (after stopping drinking over a year ago). I’ve not yet extracted myself fully from its clutches, and I am present on bluesky post-eXit.
With my focus on reading, I am now compiling regular posts about my reading list for the respective season. This is my list for the autumn – the summer list is still available here.
And in addition to reading, I am starting journaling – there will be a future post about that too!
Autumn Reading List
Serghei Sadohin, Hiding in Plain Sight: what Language says about being Human
Chip Heath / Dan Heath, Switch (the German book was part of a goodie bag for involvement in a transformation programme)
If you know me well and personally, I’ve probably talked to you about tinnitus management over the last three years. I might well have ducked out of meeting up or taking a phone call. Maybe I advised that I could only take a call over speaker phone. I might even have attended a hybrid meeting that I could have attended in person – to reduce the volume level.
I have probably also changed or shortened a meeting length. Or refused to go from one meeting to the next on the fly. I might also have changed a one-hour meeting slot to a 25 or 50 minute slot on you. I might even have taken time out during the day and logged out for a couple of hours. Guilt-free naps have been essential when tinnitus got too much.
The chances are that you might have noticed I have been less forthcoming in taking on something new recently. I might also have relinquished commitments I previously had. What I might not have mentioned to everyone is about having actively used a coach earlier in the year. I used the sessions to try to address the remit creep affecting my actual work. It is still a work in progress – I ought to get back to my coach for follow-up sessions soon.
So why am I blogging about this? Quite simply because it might maybe help someone else. Social media focuses on “living my best life”, rather the real view when things aren’t quite working out. It seems strange that I seem to notice some friends and connections more by their absence than their repeated posting.
If it isn’t going to plan, come up with a plan
Psychological safety was addressed in the subproject of my employer’s transformation programme I was in the sounding board for. Vacation absence meant limited presence in sessions over the summer. I hope that I still made a contribution. It is good to see that the subject is among many being addressed. Over the last couple of years friends and colleagues have opened up more about the assistance that they have sought. Sadly, I also know of people who did not seek help in time.
I am open that I have sessions with a coach, where one exercise was trying to redesign my typical day. My wife and I have a regular session with a parental therapist about our son’s neurodivergence. If anyone is curious, I’m happy to engage and chat about how coaching sessions help. We are also in a self-help group supports parents of neurodivergent children. I follow quite a lot of blogs by psychologists and coaches. I read them or books that they recommend rather than doom-scrolling through social media while commuting.
Notebooks, which I have long used for mental decluttering, have also been useful for coming up with the plan. I never leave the house without a notebook and pens.
Make time to take time out of the day
October is a busy time with work – the end of the year is approaching, and the days rapidly become shorter. Leaving the office in darkness is a more frequent occurrence. I take vitamin D capsules, and use a phototherapy lamp. I consciously make sure that I get out more during the day. I occasionally even use a calendar entry marked “Take a break”. Breaks have been essential this week – just before the end of summer time. On Monday I went out for a walk and collected lunch with a colleague rather than heading down to the canteen.
On Tuesday I met up for a coffee with a fellow translator visiting from Berlin. We sat outside in a nearby cafe and chatted for a couple of hours. Yesterday, I avoided the direct route to and from my son’s school. We took a longer walk (and a trip to the comic shop!) Today (Thursday) I logged out and grabbed a coffee and the Kindle and had a walk. I then read on a park bench in the sunlight. It is a real bonus having a park about 200 metres walk away (60 metres from our terrace in a straight line). Whenever the weather is good, I’ll be making a regular thing of it.
Take a break!
I try to use natural caesurae in the day to take a break. Coffee and meal breaks are essential in this regard. Resist the temptation of having “al desko” lunches. I tend to punctuate tasks with a walk around the corridor on my floor – a lap with a comfort stop is definitely a good thing. Some regular meetings also lend form to the day, or create certain-sized chunks. I try to remember to raise my desk at lunchtime in the office – and have a standing stint after lunch if possible.
Make positive changes
Last autumn I also stopped drinking – a three day hangover after two beers made me decide to stop drinking alcohol. My wife and I still enjoy an alcohol-free G&T. That is a care routine too. I did drink three glasses of wine over the course of the summer. Sometimes a glass of wine with a meal or to toast a special occasion is needed. Geocaching remains a constant, which takes me out walking usually once a week. I’m currently thinking up a few ideas for new caches. Recently I hid a new one which has been well received by the Vienna geocaching community.
I am also reading more – and with greater substance. I didn’t get through all of my summer reading list, but several other books have also been read in the meantime. A chat with an acquaintance at the British Embassy also reminded me of some books I not started.
Getting back to core business
I am taking a break from the data science courses I had been pursuing for two years. My motivation was flagging, time was also at a premium. I’m focusing on translation-based CPD. I am currently submitting abstracts for translation conferences and getting back to blogging. There are a couple of publications in the pipeline too. Journaling in my change planner has become a daily habit. Best of all it helps me to free up thinking space.
At the same time, I’ve also tried to feel less guilty about not being “perfectly efficient”. I have stopped commoditising my translation work into numbers of words delivered. The only time I really look at the word count is to try to establish how long I might need for a specific translation – and to handle multi-day projects. Slowing down a tiny bit, actually makes me feel more productive. And conciseness seems to be appreciated by colleagues.
If anything in this post has helped you, or made you think “I need to do that!“ please let me know. It’s also very good to talk.
I’ve just powered down my work laptop ahead of my summer holiday. Before turning off, I finished my timesheets and backed up files that needed to be. It’s a good routine to come down a cognitive notch after a final working day with various translations and revision jobs to finish and turn around.
Part of the packing routine is also sorting out my reading material for the trip. With not being sure whether we might need to share rooms with the children en route, I have taken to ensuring that I have some books to read on my Kindle (as well as also trying to read a physical book). The following are the books that I am taking with me for the next fortnight. Some I might only dip into if I wake up early, or am not quite ready to fall asleep.
I used to ingest first time, digest second time.
It’s a mixed bag – although with certain thematic groupings. Some books I am starting for the first time, others I am going back to, and others are re-reading. As I commented to a former tutor of mine from university, who remarked about rereading books, “I used to ingest first time, digest second time.” His attention was piqued by my re-reading a book that had been part of my primary reading during first year at university (28 years ago!).
I’ve deliberately left out any books about translation and languages, There are plenty of books I want to read, but for restorative purposes, I need to give my ever-curious brain some down time from language and law and to read something unrelated.
There are some self-improvement titles – a couple of which are recommendations from the coach I had sessions with earlier in the year. The sessions with him really paid off. I’m sure I will return to the “wordface” in September relaxed and reinvigorated.
Summer Holiday Reading List
Diccon Bewes, Swisswatching
Urs Birchler, Das Einmaleins des Geldes
Bill Browder, Freezing Order and Red Notice
James Clear, Atomic Habits
Gunter de Bruyn, Märkische Forschungen
Katja Hoyer, Beyond the Wall
Cal Newport, Deep Work
David Omand, How spies think
Fiona Rintoul, The Leipzig Affair
Rebecca Seal, Solo: how to work alone
John Sillitoe, The loneliness of the long distance runner
In March, another tinnitus flare-up meant I had to resort to additional tinnitus management mechanisms. This allowed me to keep going, and to take back control of the issue. Hybrid work and remit creep have meant increases in virtual meetings – both recurring or very densely scheduled ones. At some point, it gets too much for me with either headphones or a conference spider. Cutting meetings is the realistic measure.
At home, the noise level from my three happy, excitable and energetic young children can also get too much. With tinnitus, the impact on me of non-stop noise exposure is draining and I often retreat for a snooze. On some occasions, the snooze lasts for 2 hours. A more frequent need for one (i.e. particularly during the working week) is an indication of noise overload.
There are a few stealth tricks that I use to prevent things from getting out of control. I am able to turn down all the speakers around the house from my phone. And the maximum volume on the children’s Tonie Boxes is lower than the default value.
Verterminierung – the scourge of hybrid work
German has a concept of Verterminierung, meaning calendar gridlock and a continuous cycle of meetings. How people manage wall-to-wall calls and meetings throughout the day, every day of the week eludes me. Some corporate cultures conflate being in meetings with success. Sadly, Verterminierung has spilt over into private life: organising a child’s birthday party now needs 4-6 weeks’ lead time. In a work environment full of meetings there is too much “work about work” rather than “working”.
I struggle with densely packed meetings, and using wear various earplugs to reduce the noise overload. Adjacent appointments also mean a constant rush from one to the next, and invariably they over-run. This is less of an issue between virtual meetings than physical ones. But there is also no opportunity to stretch legs between meetings. In addition to the noise overload, a steady stream of meetings breaks my concentration and flow. This was picked up on in comments on my Translation vs Tetris blogpost). That post was given a re-airing in light of Liz Truss’ new book.
However, the typically hybrid setting means that meetings also place additional load on ears. Four years on from the Covid-enforced change, I regularly have uncomfortable meeting experiences. If I am alone in a meeting room and predominantly in “listen only” mode, I return to my office to escape empty room echoes.
Banishing sales calls
Spring seems to be a peak season for sales calls. Not unsolicited, because I clearly opted-in at some stage to be allowed to be contacted by phone. I frequently find their machine-gun pace and loud volume of such calls very painful. Usually when they first draw breath, I stop them and disarm them. I instruct them to speak slowly, clearly and at a lower volume and explain that the latter also helps them to speak in a more comfortable tone. If call centre operatives speed up again, I request an e-mail instead, and information about why it is financially in my interests.
I used to perform a lot of customer service related matters by phone (this is still commonplace in Austria). I now steadfastly contact banks, utilities and mobile providers by Internet chat. My bank, phone provider and electricity and gas providers have proven contactable using their customer service chat. I no longer take sales calls by phone from all of them. Meter readings can now be communicated using the chatbot, phone contracts changed or extended via their app and the like. I also resolved the double charging of my ORF Beitrag this way. Occasionally I have to check whether I am dealing with a human or request to chat to a human operator.
Applying private needs to shorten work meetings – a productivity hack
With how easy it was to apply this for private matters, I thought I would apply it to work meetings. A few mails worked wonders to reduce the frequency or length of meetings. Many meetings are now 30 minute slots rather than 1 hour. I’m going a step further: if I set up a meeting, I use 25 minute slots. Or 50 minutes rather than an hour. This also allows breaks between calls and meetings, and time keeping is tighter. 30 and 60 minute slots have a tendency to “fill the slot” rather than good time-keeping.
Shorter meetings allow me to have larger blocks for focussed work – for translations, terminology and editing. I use wafer-thin gaps to set up and run machine translation tests (a subject of another forthcoming blog post) or terminology entry work.
I discovered another hack by accident. Every Wednesday and Thursday I collect my son from school with alarms at 14:37 or 15:22. I now accept 2pm meetings, scheduled for 1 hour, but will say I have to leave at 14:35. It often means meetings that are shorter, quicker and more focused. If I need a 10-15 minute meeting, I schedule for 15:00 ahead of pick-up at 15:30. For bilateral meetings, the meeting planner can shoehorn in meetings to not break up longer meeting-free blocks.
In case people are wondering whether there is a way to enforce this in Outlook by default – there is.
Changing meeting lengths in Outlook
In the Outlook Options for the Calendar, meetings can be selected to “start late” or “finish early”, and in my case have been set to be shortened by an five minutes by meetings of less than one hour or 10 minutes for meetings of one hour or longer. There is of course another reason why I have chosen these particular lengths – they tie in with pomodoro lengths.
Could that meeting be an e-mail, a Teams chat, or even a form?
We’ve all left meetings with the feeling that “it ought to have been an e-mail, or a Team chat.” With an M365 roll-out there’ll also be “that e-mail could have been a chat”. It’ll be interesting to see how quickly we move from an e-mail to a chat-based corporate culture. Naturally, I’ll adjust my translation workflows (in terms of status updates, translator’s questions and comments, and terminology issues.
Many meetings don’t have to be meetings. The following flow diagram is one I put together from a number of different sources to reduce meetings, meeting-related dead time and to help regain part of my working day.
A translator’s life can often seem to be a lonely existence. Many aspects about the profession fuel the isolation. I have ploughed a sometimes lone furrow for two decades. In times of plenty I remember being “too busy” to take a break. For self-employed/freelance translators in particular, the initial stage is filled with worry about what happens when e-mails or phone calls dry up.
Another major issue is the asynchronous nature of feedback also plays a role: feedback is frequently sparing when positive, yet abundant when negative. And there is seldom meaningful feedback to help translators to improve. Translation is a mentally demanding profession with tight deadlines and an impossible battle to achieve perfection.
Translators strive for this elusive perfection in the translation they deliver, while also contending with running a business. A job as a translator entails much more than merely translating. Translators have a reputation, possibly due to the precision the profession requires, of being overcautious and introverted. Overcautiousness is often fed by the constant need to set yourself apart from your competitors.
Translators are also secretive creatures – they dare not give away anything more than is absolutely necessary. NDAs often bind them to secrecy that prevent them from discussing their work. This also has an effect of increasing the silo mentality, as does viewing other translators as “the competition”. Translators rarely publish details about customers and rates, due to a fear of “being too expensive”, or providing information to allow others to undercut them. And then, playing on the fear of not having enough work, unscrupulous agencies squeeze freelancers’ rates.
Others contribute with throwaway remarks and questions like “Anyone can translate!”, “How come you can’t translate everything”, or even “How can you survive on one language combination?”. Others humblebrag by saying how they “just translated something”. Occasionally translating short texts is a world away from delivering long and complex quality translations to a tight schedule day-in-day-out. Others neglect the fact that translation is an added value service, with providers best selected using the best bidder principle, rather than the cheapest bidder principle. All these factors contribute to imposter syndrome among translators, particularly those at the start of their career.
How perfectionism makes things worse…
Translators’ tendencies towards seeking perfectionism compounds the issue of being an imposter. With hindsight, this is as ridiculous as the notion of a “perfect translation” is absurd. After all, apparently “faithful translations are not beautiful, while beautiful translations are not faithful”.
Translators nevertheless tend to strive for perfection, when possibly there is a need for a translation that is fit-for-purpose. This can make translators their own worst enemy, particularly until they have sufficient experience to know what is needed. Experience brings with it a degree of acceptance about the necessity of occasional (linguistic) sacrifices.
Literary settings lend themselves to being able to stylistically offset and compensate between source and target texts. Stylistic devices used in the source text may also appear in the target text, albeit not necessarily 1:1 at sentence level. But when it comes to say commercial contracts, it is worth remembering that they aren’t ripped up over a missed alliteration in an arcane clause, but are ripped up if not being fit for purpose.
When is a translation fit-for-purpose?
Fit-for-purpose translation refers to producing a translation of an appropriate quality for the purpose and audience specified by a client. I usually establish the intended use (e.g. discussion at a meeting, or for presentation or publication) at the start. Time constraints can have a bearing – for example, whether to translate the entire text or only certain sections, with possible gisted summaries between those sections.
Feeling like an imposter
In the early stages of my career as a freelancer, imposter syndrome plagued me in a particular form: the form of a dream/nightmare. It took a number of years to overcome and banish the self-doubts instilled by the dream. Even acquiring a batch of stable direct clients, and learning to decline work without guilt didn’t help. Even though I knew my worth, and stuck steadfastly to my rates, with as much work as I could manage, the recurring dream plagued me for three years.
Looking back, it doesn’t surprise me that imposter syndrome is quite common, particularly among freelance translators. Translators are constantly under scrutiny and always having to perform: ultimately many translators feel as though they are judged solely on their most recent translation. When starting out, before you find and settle into your niche(s), you feel compelled to take jobs in a wide range of matters. It was no different in my case. My earliest projects covered a wide range of subject areas – from software manuals through to telecoms equipment, and even the odd military procurement contract.
I remember the relentless pressure on me to deliver. Often it would be in subject areas where I had a very limited degree of knowledge and negligible advance warning or briefing. The only “knowns” would be the broad subject matter, number of pages and the deadline. It lead on occasions to swearing never to touch a specific subject matter again, even after successfully delivering jobs to customers. Panic, fear and dread often only subsided after the money hit my bank account.
I had a dream…
For three years at the start of my career as a translator, I had a recurring imposter syndrome dream. I suspect readers who have had imposter syndrome might even have had the same dream/nightmare. Alternatively, it may have been a similar dream around the same underlying theme. In my case, the core theme of the dream was that I achieved my university degree by mistake or accident.
The dream manifested itself in a number of forms:
failing to satisfy a formal requirement about the modules I chose.
failing to complete coursework for a module.
failure to turn up for an examination.
The common thread of the dreams is “failure”. If the “failure” in the dream was left unchecked, it began to also dominate my thoughts while working. This in turn led to anxiety and affected my ability to think clearly. Since 2004, the dream has only “resurfaced” very occasionally, but never as a frequently recurring nightmare. Any subsequent minor “relapse” was at times of greater stress, when I was facing tight deadlines to deliver high volume translations.
Deconstructing the dream – dismissing its validity
In order to consign the dream to the past, I had to look at the facts in a rational manner. By deconstructing it, it allowed me to reject the dream’s validity.
The advising appointments for each academic session never identified any issues about formal requirements.
I graduated. At latest, any issue would have come to light before graduation.
Banishing the dream
Recurrences were only on an isolated basis in subsequent years. I confronted recurrence head on at times where I felt vulnerable to a relapse. For a while I struggled with panic attacks from overwork, but didn’t suffer from a relapse of the nightmare. At that time, I visited St. Andrews with friends. On both occasions, I never felt like an imposter or a charlatan. I looked back on my time studying there with pride.
On my second visit, I met up with my former Professor for a drink. He was delighted that I had a career as a translator. I mentioned my (then) specialisations of ionising smoke detectors, nurse-call communications, and banking law. He responded with a broad smile, “I can’t imagine you became an expert in those subjects while at university!” I quipped, “I did manage to set off a fire alarm cooking a fry-up!”.
In 2013, I started to forge plans to bring my divergent career strands together, and decided to purchase an academic transcript. It confirmed the satisfactory completion of all necessary modules to allow me to graduate. It gave me greater confirmation than looking at my degree certificate in the early days had.
In 2021, during seemingly endless pandemic lockdowns, I exchanged messages with my former tutor, with whom I also had played cricket, and tackled my only unresolved thought. I had scraped a low 2.ii in the module on War Fiction that he had taught. After the exam, I realised that I’d made an unmitigated hash of an essay question.
My former tutor was quick to dismiss the issue. He consigned the hiccough, a case of “missing the straight one” in cricketing parlance, as being “water under the bridge”. Despatched like a loose delivery to the boundary. Had I not mentioned the issue, I don’t imagine it would have even registered with him. The elephant was only in my room, if it even existed.
Fear of failure?
A comparatively poor pass result had weighed more heavily on my mind than having failed a module and passing a resit in my second year. Passing a module at the second attempt had been like polishing out a scratch. A poor pass was like a still visible scratch – an unsettled score.
Polishing out a scratch…
The unsettled score perhaps weighed far more heavily than it should. After all, it had had no bearing on my final degree classification. Put into perspective against accumulated professional experience it barely even registers now. At the start of a career, your degree classification is a massive benchmark, and still carries a disproportionate weight for a few years. Its significance fades towards obscurity over your professional life. The presence of post-nominals are the only significant reference to my degree. My experience, professional standing, reputation and specialisations carry far greater weight.
How do perceived failures impact translators?
When I started out as a freelancer, I reached a point after 2-3 years to be in a position to pick and choose customers. However, just as I reached this position, I lost a seemingly stable customer. At the time, it seemed like a catastrophic failure and one I took as a failure on my part. A few years later it became clear than translation was only one area to fall foul of cost-cutting measures. Shortly afterwards, another customer chose to pursue cheaper options for their translations. This still felt like a failure in that my service was not good enough value for money. “Failure” as a translator, in terms of customer retention, however, is frequently due to external factors rather than a lack of quality of the actual translation.
Alternatively, the “failure” dream may rest on a sense of under-preparation. As traditionally risk-averse people, translators understandably fear flying by the seat of their pants and need to feel to be in absolute control. The feeling of failure may be even more exaggerated when starting out, as you don’t have the positive past experience to reassure you. Not being in control may be equated with failure. This is unsurprising in a mentally demanding and meticulous profession.
In contrast, in-house translators (at companies or agencies/LSPs) often cover substantially narrower fields of specialisation or a single language combination. Nevertheless they can still feel like imposters. Internal hierarchies can exist in teams, with some translators getting the juiciest cherries, and others having to be content with the pulp. In this case it can become a challenge to keep the whole team happy, as well as how to harmonise the level of knowledge and expertise. There is often scope to acquire different areas of expertise.
Going in-house…
When I changed from being a freelancer to an in-house translator, I did not experience a feeling of being an imposter, due to the fact that I was the team (or as I now define it, a SPLSU (single person language services unit)). Having gained esteem and a good reputation as a freelancer, I knew that acceptance was key in this position and ensuring that I was treated on an equal footing. Fortunately, my employer helped in this regard as I followed the same training courses as desk officers (usually holding law degrees and postgraduate qualifications) in my department.
I also actively sought to establish the place of translation in workflows by showing how to integrate the translator from an early stage, rather than as an afterthought or a final step before publication. For example, I explained the workflows that should what a translator can already handle before the final document is available. This approach helps to minimise the impact of delays in previous stages, thus maximising the time available for translation.
Die eierlegende Wollmilchsau
Barnes’ iron triangle of expectations has existed for decades, yet translators still constantly fight the unachievable due to customer expectations. Customers still expect high quality translations quickly and cheaply – a combination as illusory as the eierlegende Wollmilchsau (the egg-laying, sheep-fleeced, milkable sow). To get a large translation delivered quickly, higher rates and larger teams are used. The result is not cheap.
However, there is another new reality that has come to pass. In the search for greater productivity, shorter turnaround times and keeping apace with greater demand, agencies are now downgrading translators to machine translation post-editors (MTPEs). I will be the first to say that embracing technology as a translator in many areas is essential. However, it is also essential to acknowledge the need for a human in the loop.
Why buy a CAT tool?
Investing in a CAT system definitely helped extend my competitive edge nearly two decades ago. It also gave me a greater feeling of control – in terms of times required for projects. It has helped with knowledge management. To this day, in my in-house position, it allows me to recall any job that I have done. It could be mere coincidence, but my imposter dream disappeared around the time I became a CAT user.
CAT and MT do not provide a human translator with the level of meaningful feedback that a human colleague can. QA tools can leverage your terminology to hint at unexpected terminology choices. For example detailed termbase entries can indicate the usage of a non-standard or obsolete term (helpful if your TM contains TUs spanning a large period of time!). Limitations depend on how Termbases have been set up, maintained and also the completeness of entries.
Dedicated terminologists or translators will provide more constructive feedback than a QA tool. Fellow professionals can point out why something may be a correct rendering of a term in a certain context, but doesn’t fit in another. It is what makes adequate feedback so important.
Improving feedback cycles
Both in-house and freelance translators suffer from lopsided feedback – an acceptable translation frequently yields little feedback. This makes it difficult to gain any constructive feedback, other than responses to questions during the translation process. I have come up with some ways to improve the amount of feedback, by normalising it.
For large translation jobs, I usually request a “fatal flaw check” of my translation – especially if it is intended for publication. I also offer to do a final consistency check before publication – which also allows me to amend TUs accordingly. This way I obtain more meaningful feedback.
For new translation customers, I slip in a feedback form (questions on overall satisfaction, a positive highlight, and suggested improvements). It is kept very short, but jogging them for feedback proves far more beneficial than just an “OK”.
For revision jobs that I do, I point out something that the customer can take away and apply. This often elicits feedback from them. Sometimes, my role is little more than a reassuring second pair of eyes. On other occasions, my role is to ensure that the correct message goes out, in an appropriate correct tone.
In outsourced translations, I add constructive feedback to the thank-you note I send out to the agency. I point out constructive corrections made, from checking the received document. After all, this kind of feedback is the only way to improve texts, or provide impulses for terminology work.
I firmly believe that you never stop learning. From 2023, I intend to take part in translation sparring slams with other translators. I have been reading up about them a lot recently. Sparring slams can be discussed virtually or while at conferences. Getting a fresh perspective is a good tool for staving off “Betriebsblindheit”. It helps you to freshen up your own language (your everyday situation may expose you unwittingly to source language interference, or to language attrition) as well as having a chance to gain knowledge from others and impart your own – this is particularly useful for those who work alone.
More thoughts on imposter syndrome/perfectionism/quiet spells as a translator or interpreter
As a bonus and reward for reading this post all the way to the end, a word of explanation about the chosen title. The play on words deliberately relates to one of the set texts in the German War Fiction course I took in my final semester at St Andrews. Erich Maria Remarque’s Im Westen nichts Neues was a text I initially studied in my first year at St Andrews, as well as part of the German War Fiction course.
Right translation, wrong cover!
I am about to re-read the book again, with the greater hindsight of a further 22 years of living in the German-speaking world, and also reading it for pleasure, rather than as a set text. I choose to do so in preparation for watching the new Netflix film version, which has just come out. See below for the trailer.
Trailer of the Netflix film version of All Quiet on the Western Front
I follow a lot of translators via Linkedin, Twitter and various blogs. I do this to avoid silo thinking as well as to gain impressions from the outside world and to understand the market. During the pandemic, where conferences have gone virtual, Linkedin and Twitter have become useful conduits to continue discussion. They have allowed me to converse with other language professionals, even when physical events have ceased.
In September 1990, aged 13 I took the decision as I started at Taunton School (having previously been at its then boys only preparatory school (Taunton Junior Boys School)) to take German as a second modern language.
