Thursday, December 6, 2018

Translation, as in "Lost in."





Translation:  as in” Lost in.”

 

(NB. I wrote this article when I began looking for a French translator of my first thriller “Dead Bishops Don’t Lie”. This eventually gave birth to  “La Danse Des Évêques”.)

 

Has anyone priced the cost of translation recently? When I did, I nearly fell out of my writer-worn wicker chair. After contacting a few Quebec translators and one in particular, I realized I would be giving her the equivalent of a brand new Camry, for what seemed like perhaps fastidious but relatively easy work.  ( .30$ X 90,000 words = Camry LE.)
Besides, my wife says that if I’m going to spend that kind of money, the much awaited, much postponed, infamous Kitchen Renovation Project will come first.
Undaunted, to the internet I go, to eventually stumble onto a Parisian woman’s website: “ Multi-disciplinary translation experience, Cambridge and Sorbonne - educated, price can vary according to your budget,” it says. Wonderful. I know, I know. You don’t have to remind me of the cliché: If it sounds too good to be true…..” Anyway, I immediately email her my budget and deadline. No problem, she answers.
She sends me a small sample of her work, which reads well.

My spirits buoyed, I send her my manuscript along with a substantial down payment. (Everyone wants money up front in this game).
And then, I wait. And wait. Weeks go by, the deadline eventually passes. No reply to my many, increasingly terse emails, and of course, nooo translation.
Curiously, I can’t find a phone number on her website.
Yet another scam?
Frustration reaching the boiling point, I’ m about to send her a lawyer’s letter, when I receive a short apology. She’s just recovering from a severe bout of malaria, and could we extend the deadline.
Malaria, poor woman. I picture her lying in bed under the mosquito net, (probably hard to find in Paris) high fever, delirious, too weak to work on her computer. How could I have been so distrustful?
My faith in human nature immediately rebounds, like the Dow Jones on a rare, good day, with the same unquestionable logic. I instantly reacquire Blind Faith and write back, extending the deadline  
She thanks me but, oh, a minor point: could I send more money, since her bank deducted a hefty conversion fee on my first payment.
Not so fast.  “Can you send me a few chapters?”I dare write.
“Of course “she replies,” I’ll send the first ten right away.”
Wonderful, I think. Progress at last. I briefly imagine my new book --for it is a new book--  enhanced into a novel of Balzacian proportions by this erudite, young Parisian woman.
I begin reading her attachment, and my heart sinks into the basement. Her translation has all the passion, flavor and excitement of my Honda    Odyssey ’s Technical Manual. I breathe deeply, trying to convince myself that maybe I’m, surely I must be, overreacting. So I give it to my wife to read. Moments later, her eyes glaze over and she begins to doze off. “Nice.” She says. “Nice travel brochure,” she utters before falling asleep.
I’m …up the paddle without a creek.
So, I decide to fire my French translator and start from scratch.  Disheartening.  Enter fellow writer Shirley to the rescue, and she gives me the name of a friend looking for translation work. After a few emails I realize she’s not as experienced as I would like, but she seems to understand my punchy, often fragmented style of novel writing, and she can deliver same in French.
I forge ahead. Exit more money, enter more anxiety until I’m able to judge a sizable chunk of her work. Next, I learn that my publisher, who will accept or reject the translation, has caught ….. pneumonia. More delay, more uncertainty.
Malaria, pneumonia, insomnia, paranoia: positively unhealthy, this writing business.
Then at last, some good news: the publisher  has recovered and has accepted the translation. Everyone is ok……well…for the moment. Who is the saint one prays to for good health?

 Lessons learned:

1) When looking for a translator, never trust his or her small sample. Get at least 3-4 chapters of your work.

2) Hire a translator who is familiar with your genre, or a least a translator experienced in translating novels.

3) If possible, find a translator in your area, whom you can contact and work with by phone: you will have continuous interaction with your translator.  

4) Avoid wire transfers and conversion fees: you’ll be asked to ante up the difference.

5) If  possible have your publisher deal with the matter. Canadian publishers are often eligible for Canada Council translation grants.

Wednesday, December 5, 2018

Queen Anne Stuart Part Two ~ The Cinderella Princess by Rosemary Morris



Click on the cover to discover more about this title and Rosemary's other titles.

Author’s Note My novel, Far Beyond Rubies, in which the heroine is another Cinderella, is set in Queen Anne Stuart’s reign 1702 – 1714.

Princess Anne’s mother died. Her father, James, Duke of York, had taken the unpopular decision to become a Roman Catholic. Her uncle, the childless King Charles II, knew politics demanded his heirs, Anne and her elder sister, Mary, be raised in the Protestant faith. He appointed Lady Frances Villiers, a committed Anglican, as their governess and leased Richmond Palace to Frances and her husband.
The princesses benefited from country air and were privileged to live by the Thames in the days when due to bad roads the river was of great importance.
Anne’s indulgent father visited his daughters regularly, showered them with gifts and often stayed for several nights at Richmond Palace. Yet all was not well with the family. In 1673, due to the Test Act, which excluded anyone who did not take communion in the Anglican Church from public office, James was forced to resign as Lord High Admiral and to give up all his other official positions. In that age of fervent religious allegiances, I wonder what effect religious controversy had on Anne, a stubborn child.
What did Anne think when her father married fifteen-year-old Mary of Braganza? History relates that James was captivated by his bride. Looking at a copy of her portrait, I’m not surprised. She was tall with a good figure, jet black hair, a fair skin and large eyes that her contemporaries at court described as ‘full of sweetness and light’. The proud bridegroom introduced his new wife to his daughters as a ‘playmate’, but Anne formed a bond, not with her stepmother, whose children would be raised in the Roman Catholic faith, but with vivacious Sarah Churchill, who would have such a profound influence on Anne’s life.
Motherless Anne, a Protestant ‘Cinderella’ of her era, has all the ingredients of a fictional heroine, but – a member of the tragic Stuart family - what would she make of her life?

Extract from Far Beyond Rubies

Chapter One

1706

“Bastards, Juliana! You and your sister are bastards.”
Aghast, Juliana stared at William, her older half-brother, although, not for a moment did she believe his shocking allegation.
It hurt her to confront William without their father at her side. At the beginning of April, she and Father were as comfortable as ever in his London house. Now, a month later, upon her return to her childhood home, Riverside House, set amongst the rolling landscape of Hertfordshire, his body already lay entombed in the family crypt next to her mother’s remains. Would there ever be a day when she did not mourn him? A day when she did not weep over his loss?
A cold light burned in the depths of William’s pebble-hard eyes.
Juliana straightened her neck. She would not bow her head, thus giving him the satisfaction of revealing her inner turmoil.
William cleared his throat. His eyes gleamed. “Did you not know you and your sister were born on the wrong side of the blanket?”
Anger welled up in her. “You lie. How dare you make such a claim?”
Hands clasped on his plump knees, William ignored her protestation. “You now know the truth about your whore of a mother,” he gloated.
Well, she knew what William claimed, but did not believe him. “You are wicked to speak thus. My mother always treated you kindly.”
“As ever, you are a haughty piece.” William’s broad nostrils flared. Anger sparked in his eyes. “My dear sister, remember the adage: ‘Pride goes before a fall’. However, do not look so worried. I shall not cast you out without the means to support yourself.”
William rang the silver handbell. When a lackey clad in blue and gold livery answered its summons, he ordered the man to pour a glass of wine.
Juliana watched William raise the crystal glass to his lips. What did he mean? How could she maintain herself and her sister? She had not been brought up to earn a living.
She looked away from her half-brother to glance around the closet, the small, elegantly furnished room in which she kept her valuables and conducted her private correspondence before her father’s death.
Now it seemed, William, the seventh Baron Kemp, and his wife, Sophia, had sought to obliterate every trace of her by refurbishing the closet. Where were her books and her embroidery frame? Where was Mother’s portrait? Rage burned in the pit of her stomach while she looked around her former domain. Juliana wanted to claw William’s fat cheeks. It would please her to hurt him as he was hurting her. No, that wish was both childish and unchristian. She must use her intelligence to defeat him.

Five Star Review of Far Beyond Rubies
By
Janet Glaser

When reading Far Beyond Rubies, I felt I had stepped into the 18th century. Ms Morris has done her homework to bring us such a rich story with all the historic background and social graces of the era. I especially loved her description of the gentlemen's fancy outfits. They dressed as brightly as male peacocks and wore make-up and wigs that even outshone the ladies of the day.
The dialogue filled with authentic words used in that time period and the way her characters expressed themselves added to the enjoyment of the story telling. I read the book on my Kindle and truly appreciated the dictionary just a click away to find the definition of the words used in that time period.
I wasn't familiar with the history of England, so I enjoyed learning about kings, queens, and politics etc. The author made it easy to understand. The sweet romance was filled with interesting characters and so many secrets.
I would recommend this book for lovely escape reading and for the historical value.


About Rosemary Morris

Writing a novel is a solitary occupation. Every day, I am alone with my desktop working for at least eight hours, When I am not thus engaged, I read and post e-mails, write blogs, deal with business and study historical non-fiction to research the romantic historical novel which I am writing. I visit places of historical interest to convey the lives and times of the characters in my novels. The protagonists in my tales of times past are not 21sr characters in costume.
As a historical novelist I don’t think it is possible to portray every minute fact about the past accurately, but I have a responsibility my readers to thoroughly research the era in which my novels are set. In addition to reading non-fiction and making detailed notes, I visit libraries, museums, stately homes and other places of historical interest.
When my words flow well, I am tempted to work for many hours without a break. That would be detrimental. Writing is mentally and physically tiring, so I have a five-minute break every hour, during which I stretch and exercise my eyes. If the weather permits, I work in my organic garden. I also visit the health suite at the leisure centre to enjoy the jacuzzi, steam room and sauna. Water aerobics are beneficial, but I’m not keen on the loud modern music played to encourage the participants to keep up the pace.
I don’t want to be a writer in a garret but sometimes I wish I lived in an ivory tower with nothing to distract me from my imaginary companions. However, the daily chores, cleaning, washing clothes, shopping etc., keep my feet on the ground, so does time with family and friends.




Novels by Rosemary Morris

Early 18th Century novels: Tangled Love, Far Beyond Rubies, The Captain and The Countess
Regency Novels False Pretences, Sunday’s Child, Monday’s Child, Tuesday’s Child, Wednesday’s Child and Thursday’s Child. Friday’s Child to be published in June 2019
Mediaeval Novel Yvonne Lady of Cassio. The Lovages of Cassio Book One
www.rosemarymorris.co.uk
http://bookswelove.net/authors/morris-rosemary


Tuesday, December 4, 2018

The Murder of Sir Thomas Overbury by Katherine Pym

What better way than something different for Christmas:


Buy Here


~*~*~*~*~


Sir Thomas Overbury

Love all the intrigue in the courts of kings. One particular one rivals the death of Rasputin, also a courtier murder. This is of Sir Thomas Overbury, a poet and essayist. He was verbal in what he believed whether or not it offended anyone.

September 1613, Tower of London

Part of King James VI & I’s court, Sir Thomas was great friends with Robert Carr, Viscount Rochester, later the Earl of Somerset. They met in Scotland as young men and became fast friends.

Rumour has buzzed about the head of King James re: his preference to pretty men even as he married and fathered children. Word has it he enjoyed planting wet kisses on his favourites’ lips, all male. 

King Jas VI & I
His favour fell onto Robert Carr who had literally fallen off his horse and broke a leg in front of the king. Even as Robert became the king’s favourite, Thomas did not mind. As a courtier in the Court of King James, he knew his limitations.

Enter Lady Frances Howard, Countess of Essex, already married. She set her sights on Robert Carr, something Sir Thomas did not appreciate. He was a misogynist, filled with ambition and a sharp edged tongue. He did not like Frances and let everyone know about it. His slander grew wearisome. Lady Frances continued her conquest of Sir John despite Thomas’ spreading vitriol, but her hate simmered. She schemed.

Sir Thomas had been thrown in the Tower of London by King James for declining the ambassadorship to a court in Russia. It was not long before he became very ill by what was called an infectious disease, and died Sept 15, 1613.
Sir Robert Carr, 1st Earl of Somerset

Now, for the rest of the story.

Lady Frances planned a diabolical murder. She almost got away with it when the ruling came down Overbury had died of an illness, but 2 years later, suspicion fell on hers and Somerset’s heads.

Here’s where Overbury paralleled Rasputin. He would not die for the longest while.

Overbury was poisoned with aquafortis (nitric acid), white arsenic, mercury, powder of diamond, lapis cortilus (I cannot find a modern translation of this), great spiders, and cantharides (Spanish fly). The arsenic was mixed in his salt. Once he desired pig for dinner, and Lady Frances’ accomplice added lapis cortilus to it. Another time, he wanted 2 partridges for dinner and cantharides were used instead of pepper. When that failed he was given “poisoned enema containing copper vitriol (sulfuric acid).

Sir Thomas Overbury finally died.

Lady Essex, later Countess of Somerset
Justice served: Everyone involved in the murder was executed except Lady Frances and Sir Robert. Their punishments were commuted to the confiscation of their property and imprisonment for some years in the Tower.





~*~*~*~*~
Many thanks to:

Timbs, John, FSA. The Romance of London: Strange Stories, Scenes and Remarkable Persons of the Great Town, Vol. I., Frederick Warne & Co., London.

And:

Monday, December 3, 2018

“You’ll shoot your eye out, kid.” by Diane Bator



Visit Diane Bator's BWL author page for information and purchase links to her Gilda Wright and Wild Blue Mysteries series


I’m not afraid to say it. “A Christmas Story” is not one of my favorite holiday movies. Not even in the top ten. Yet, not only do I write, my day job is at a live-stage theatre and this Christmas our big show is “A Christmas Story.” Not only do I have to deal with it, I have to sell it.

For those of you unfamiliar with the story, our version is set in 1953 (the original was set in the 1930s) and is a flashback to nine-year-old Ralphie’s wish to get a Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas. The mantra of the play is “You’ll shoot your eye out, kid.” Nothing will stop him from making his parents, his teacher, and Santa aware of his obsession.

 Funny, I was just thinking how Ralphie would make a great writer! We’re all obsessed with our work.
Part of my job is to bring a taste of our current show down to my domain – the box office. This year, my little Christmas tree is covered in “A Christmas Story” themed decorations. Ten people have commented how great and creative it is, but there’s always that one…

One person found two of the items on my little tree offensive. A target with Ralphie and the words, “You’ll shoot your eye out, kid” and a smaller one that reads, “I want an official Red Ryder BB Gun.”  At the time, I took them both off the tree because she’s a friend and was very adamant about them not being a part of my Christmas tree.

Then I reconsidered. I didn’t want to be censored and it made me think about how we are censored as writers. Not by society, per se, but by our own beta readers, friends, and family when they give us feedback about things they find offensive in our work.

If one person makes a comment about a certain part of my book, I’ll consider their opinion, but if it gets past my editor several times, I no longer worry about it. If several people make the same comment, then I know it’s a bigger issue. Sometimes I’ll panic and start to wonder if I’m writing in the wrong genre or need different beta readers! In the end, I’ll be able to smooth things over so they are acceptable, yet still get my idea across.

One thing I have learned through seven novels and several editors:  You can never make everyone happy. What I may find funny, someone else may take literally. We all have different perspectives. All you need to do is peruse Facebook to figure that out.

For the record, I’ve hung those little ornaments back on my tree and I’m looking forward to seeing the performance. Someone triple dog dared me…

Sunday, December 2, 2018

Under the Christmas Tree by J. S. Marlo


December is my favorite month of the year. I love the decorations, the lights, and mostly the atmosphere. It seems people are friendlier, more helpful. Despite the larger crowds, I enjoy shopping for that perfect gift that will light up someone's eyes.
When my kids were little, I followed my own rule of thumb when it came to Christmas gifts: a pajama, a puzzle, a toy, a stuffy, and a book. They were allowed to open one gift on Christmas Eve: the pajama, which they wore that night. Then on Christmas Day, they either started the book or the puzzle. They are grown up now, but that same rule of thumb now applies to my granddaughter. It wasn't something I'd read somewhere or that was passed down from generations, but then a few weeks back I saw that  post on Facebook.


My curiosity was piqued, so I browsed the Internet to see if I could find out more about this delightful Christmas tradition.
"Jólabókaflóð" or "Yule Book Flood" originated during World War II when foreign imports were restricted, but paper was cheap. Iceland’s population was not large enough to support a year-round publishing industry, so book publishers flooded the market with new titles in the final weeks of the year.

Icelanders open their presents on Christmas Eve, so most of them end the evening by settling down with one of their gifted books. According to Icelandic author Yrsa Sigurðardótti, books remain the number one Christmas present in Iceland and it’s considered a total flop Christmas if you do not get a book.

Fun & interesting facts:
- Iceland publishes more books per capita than any other country
- One in ten Icelanders will publish a book in their lifetime
- In Iceland, the holiday season officially kicks off with the delivery of the Bokatidindi—a catalogue of every new book published in Iceland
 - In 2011, Reykjavík (Iceland's capital) was designated a UNESCO City of Literature

While giving books is not unique to Iceland, the tradition of exchanging books on Christmas Eve and then spending the evening reading is becoming a cultural phenomenon... a relaxing and charming tradition, even more so when it's cold and snowing outside.

So this Christmas Eve, I'm contemplating getting a new book, a box of chocolate, a cup of hot cocoa, and spending the night reading by the fireplace.




Happy Holidays from Canada!

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