Greatest Women in Translation: Nina Parish & Emma Wagstaff

Welcome back to our Greatest Women in Translation interview series!

This month we have two interviewees who work together and, therefore, were also interviewed together, Nina Parish and Emma Wagstaff, both nominated by Valentina Gosetti.

Welcome, Nina and Emma!

1. Why don’t you both start by telling us how you got into translation?

Nina: As an academic in French Studies, translation has been an important part of my training. I was taught translation as an undergraduate at Royal Holloway; I wrote one of my dissertations for a Masters in Aix-en-Provence on a translation of a poem by Blaise Cendrars by Dos Passos and now I have been teaching translation for a number of years at undergraduate and postgraduate level at the University of Bath and more recently the University of Stirling. It’s one of my favourite areas to teach – it’s such a good way of understanding and working really closely with texts and language. At Bath, I was Director of Studies for the Masters in Interpreting and Translating and this role taught me so much about the workings of this professional world ranging from the exhilarations of interpreting at the UN to the vital task of careful proof-reading.

Emma: I don’t have as much of a background in translation as Nina does, though I was thrown into the deep end on arriving in my current job where I had to teach translation theory, sometimes only being one week ahead of the students in the textbook! I also enjoy teaching translation: it’s popular with students for its practical side, and it’s an opportunity to discuss interesting and challenging texts. I have increasingly found myself thinking and writing about translation, because the French poets I have studied, including André du Bouchet and Philippe Jaccottet, were themselves translators and wrote fascinating reflections on translation and on the interrelationship between poetry and translation.

2. You run a poetry network together. Could you tell us a bit about it?

We ran a poetry network together – Contemporary poetic practice in French: an interdisciplinary approach – from 2012 to 2015. The website for this network is still up and running but we don’t update it as much as we’d like anymore. Thanks to funding from the UK’s Arts and Humanities Research Council, we were able to organize a series of six workshops on poetry, politics and philosophy at the University of Oxford, poetry and translation at the Centre international de poésie Marseille (CipM), poetry and new technologies at the University of Bath, poetry and visual arts at the University of Cambridge, poetry, music and performance at the University of Birmingham, and in conjunction with the Birkbeck Centre for Research in the Aesthetics of Kinship and Community, ‘Les Nouvelles écritures politiques: le poète dans la communauté’ at the University of London. We welcomed university academics and artistic practitioners from Great Britain, The Republic of Ireland, France, Belgium, Italy, and North America to these workshops which were also accompanied by poetry readings and performances, a translation workshop, an exhibition, and the composition of a new musical work for which we hosted the premiere (and at which Emma and I had our first terrifying experience of live interpreting at a public event!). We wanted to find out who was working on poetic practice in French and how they were going about it and it was a really rich experience. Translation was a common thread throughout these workshops – between different languages, but also different disciplines and forms – and the practical translation workshop that we organised at the CipM, led by Stephen Romer and Jennie Feldman, was a real highlight underlining the intellectual challenges of translating poetry but also the very human challenges of working collaboratively on this type of task.

3. You both have also co-edited an anthology, Writing the Real: A Bilingual Anthology of Contemporary French Poetry. Could you also tell us a bit about it, including how you worked together in writing it?

This anthology was an unplanned but very welcome result of our network. The volume was commissioned by Enitharmon Press and it was the writer and academic Jérôme Game (whose work features in the anthology) who put us in touch with Stephen Stuart-Smith at Enitharmon. Our brief was to include a few pages of text from each of 15-20 French poets who, if not young, were at least ‘young at heart’ and considered their work political. The texts included are not all overtly political in terms of content, but the poets would be clear that their writing is a political act.

We came to decisions about what to include through reading the poets’ work, in discussion with one another, and by asking the advice of people we know with extensive knowledge of the comptemporary scene. Eric Giraud, who was then working at the CipM, was particularly helpful. Some of the translations had previously been published in the US or the UK. We didn’t quite achieve our aim of parity between men and women poets, though the translators are predominantly female; there is work to be done on that disparity. With nearly half of the poets being women, our anthology stands out from recently anthologised poetry in France: there are fewer published female poets, and those women tend to resist attention being drawn to their gender.

The contemporary dimension of the anthology not only affected the choice of texts but also the process of translating and editing them, because we were able to consult the poets themselves (in all but one case) on the particular pieces to be included and follow up their suggestions for translators. The translators could then discuss their approach with the poets.

We took the decison to each translate the work of one poet: Emma translated Philippe Beck and Nina translated Anne-James Chaton. We also co-wrote the introduction which provides some context about the contemporary French poetry scene and introduces the various tendencies within it.

The anthology is currently sold out but it will be available electronically in the next months via the Enitharmon website.

4. Nina, I was particularly interested in your “work on representations of difficult history, the migrant experience and multilingualism in the museum space,” as stated on your page. Could you tell us a bit about it?

Questions around representation in museums in terms of both form and content has become a strong focus of the research that I now do. I’ve been fortunate to be part of some really interesting projects exploring these areas in the last few years.

I collaborated on the Horizon 2020-funded Unsettling Remembering and Social Cohesion in Transnational Europe (UNREST) project. With colleagues from the UK, Germany, Spain, Denmark and Poland, we tested a new mode of remembering – agonistic memory – through empirical fieldwork in war museums and sites of mass exhumations. Throughout the three years of this project (it finished at the end of March 2019), we visited a lot of war museums and spent a lot of time thinking about how to represent difficult history within the museum space. We even developed our own exhibition, Krieg. Macht. Sinn., which opened at the Ruhr Museum in Germany on 11 November 2018.

I’ve also spent time in Australia working with Dr Chiara O’Reilly from the University of Sydney firstly on a project to do with telling migrant stories in the museum where we compared how a range of different Australian museums, from federally-funded to volunteer-run, approached this kind of task. More recently we have been working on questions of memory and place particularly in relation to the centenary commemorations of World War One in Australia.

The modern museum, more often than not, is associated with sight, with the (male, heterosexual, European) gaze. But experiential new museology and innovative soundscapes as a key part of exhibition space mean that our relationship to sound and language within the museum space has changed. Our accoustic experiences of the world can be included, and when it comes to representations of language these will inevitably be multilingual. As a modern languages researcher, I am keen to find out how this multilingual experience has been and can be better represented in the museum.

5. Emma, you “teach on a range of courses in French Studies, with a particular focus on translation, modern texts and visual art,” as stated on your page. Could you tell us a bit more about how you combine all of them?

I’m not necessarily expected to combine them, but in fact I find that there are lots of overlaps. For instance, I have taught a specialist option for a number of years on the links between writers and artists in the modern period. Students engage very well with the notion of ekphrasis and sometimes suggest it is a kind of translation between media. I have also taught sessions on Pierre Reverdy in a cross-language course on European Modernism. This is delivered in English because students do not necessarily study French. I find that they are interested in discussing the implications of studying poetry in translation.

The research I have been working on recently – a book on André du Bouchet – considers his response to art by his contemporaries and artists from earlier periods, including engravings by Miklos Bokor, Nicolas de Staël, and the seventeenth-century Dutch artist Hercules Seghers. I devote a chapter to his translation practice, including in particular his translation of poetry by Paul Celan and his ‘Notes on Translation’ inspired by Ossip Mandelstam. Poets who edited or contibuted to the literary and cultural review L’Éphémère (1967-72), including Du Bouchet, Jacques Dupin, Yves Bonnefoy, Michel Leiris, and Louis-René des Forêts, created a review in which poetic texts in French sat alongside translated pieces and were interleaved with drawings and engravings.

In our poetry network, to which, as Nina says, translation became integral, we found that when crossing boundaries of genre and media, poetry quite naturally also moves between languages.

6. Valentina Gosetti, our previous interviewee, who nominated you both, told us your “collaborative work is brilliant” and you are “a constant source of inspiration.” Could you tell us a bit more about how you work together and why you think this collaboration works so well?

Nina: Valentina is too kind! Nearly all the work I do now is collaborative – I really enjoy working with people. But the collaboration with Emma is very special to me. We’ve known each other for many years – Emma is a friend too – we met as PhD students working on modern poetry in 1999 or 2000 – and have kept in touch ever since. We have quite different personalities which complement each other and that is very helpful when you’re working on projects which require a vast range of skills. We are able to divide tasks fairly and I never feel hard done by or under pressure when I work with Emma – that may well be because she is quietly doing most of the work! Emma is a brilliant, extremely erudite, very modest woman. She also has a good sense of humour which is crucial.

Emma: Nina, in turn, is too kind – and I certainly don’t do most of the work! One of the reasons it’s so easy and enjoyable to work with Nina is that we seem to understand each other, and are therefore able to divide up tasks between us while being aware that sometimes one of us will have other urgent priorities. Our friendship and partnership over the last twenty years have been enormously important to me: spending time with Nina is one of the main reasons I enjoy academic research, and she is a role model for women – and everyone – in academia for the energy and acumen she brings to any event or project. Our generation has seen a shift from the ‘lone scholar’ model in Arts and Humanities research to the requirement to work in new, collaborative ways, and it can sometimes feel hard to adapt to that way of envisioning research. I’ve found that working with Nina, and observing from outside how she has been involved in successful, innovative team-led projects, have helped me see the potential and benefits of collaborative research.

We should add that we also find Valentina inspirational in her enthusiastic promotion of poetry and translation!

7. Now it’s your turn to nominate our next Great Woman in Translation.

Marcella Durand. We came across Marcella’s brilliant translations of Michèle Métail when we were working on a chapter about translating poetry and constraints. She was so generous and attentive to our questions that we look forward to working with her again.

Guest post: Uncertainties, new beginnings, and things in between

Welcome back to our guest post series!

Today, I have the pleasure of welcoming a great friend of mine, Mariana Sasso, translator, who is currently venturing into the freelance world.

Please note this post was written before the pandemic, so the running part applied to the pre-coronavirus reality. However, all her tips are great for our current reality.

Welcome, Mariana!

Source: Pixabay

When push comes to shove…

When something unplanned, unexpected, or incredibly awesome happens to us, like embarking upon an impromptu or unplanned trip to a fabulous place, or meeting someone fantastic for the first time, I’m sure any of us would be more than glad to experience these things with open arms. But, when the winds of change bring us “Lord Voldemort” instead of “Mary Poppins” (and by that, I mean: unemployment, disease, debt, last-minute emergency surgery, or the death of a loved one, for a few examples), it is not uncommon to feel like our world has crumbled like a tower of cards, or that the floor has vanished from under our feet – and, after going through what can only be described as an emotional tsunami over the past four years, I know this all too well and first hand.

Today, as I slowly pave the way of emotional recovery and search for a new and rewarding job, Caroline suggested that I make a list of things that might have helped me occupy my brain (hello, Black Sabbath) during this hiatus in my life. I loved her suggestion right away and hope that this can help – if not exactly inspire you in your own life (because, let’s get real: you won’t find anything revolutionary in my list below) – at least, make you feel comforted in knowing that we are all on the same boat, and that everyone has to struggle and fight in life, more often than we’d like to admit, in spite of what unrealistic social media posts would want us to believe. So, here’s my small (yet prolix) list of things I have been doing while I prepare for the next stage in my life:

Catching up with my reading: I guess you’re going to agree with me when I say that, after our souls were offered in sacrifice to the gods of Instagram, Netflix, Amazon Prime and WhatsApp, the number of books we all read has decreased exponentially, am I right? Personally, I’ve never gone too long without turning a page, but, after I got my first smartphone some years ago, I feel like my brain has been screaming for help, buried under a thick layer of dust and spider webs hanging from its four walls. So, now that I have been “in-between jobs” (which is a fancy way to say “unemployed”), I figured this could be the ideal moment to tackle this predicament with a twofold plan of action: 1) I stopped beating myself up for being a lousy reader, and accepted that I had to stop shaming myself for not reading books anymore if I wanted to have some self-respect and move on; 2) I did the only thing that would solve my not-reading problem: I chose something short to get me back on reading, instead of a long novel, for example. My go-to writer in these cases is David Foster Wallace. This American writer was very prolific in his production of short stories and essays, which have inspired me in my own writing and helped me learn new ideas, linguistic structures and vocabulary. Also, I can read one essay or short story per day, which is not much, but gives me a sense of achievement and continuing progress, which is a more than welcome feeling. Of course, the number of brilliant authors suggested here would be never-ending, but starting by David Foster Wallace’s short stories and essays has been working wonders for me.

Catching up with my physical health: As a freelance translator, I spend most of my hours just sitting on a chair, and the longest distance I walk on a daily basis is the one that connects my office to the bathroom or the kitchen. Here, once again, I know for sure that I am not alone in this, right? Our modern world has been perfectly designed to make us perform the highest number of tasks without having to move more than three fingers (hello, smartphones and all the apps). So, if I didn’t make a conscious effort to actually stand up and start moving, now that I have been spending so much idle time at home, I would only prolong this unhealthy state of sedentarism. So, “for no particular reason, I decided to go for a little run” (hello, Forest Gump). However, in my case, it was actually a little walk – I just did exactly what Forest Gump did in the movie: I stood up from my chair, opened the door to the street, and started walking. I just went, walked around the block, and came back home. I didn’t allow me to get caught up in thoughts of buying a new pair of sneakers, changing into leggings or gym suit, or setting a playlist up for the journey. For me, all these preparations, however important and healthy they really are, were only making me find excuses not to do any exercise at all. So, I decided to just stand up and go! Eventually, I was exercising every day, for as long as it felt relevant and pleasant to me – no charts, no rigorous schedules, no self-beating for not overachieving, no self-blaming or any other reproaching feeling. Now, I exercise because I love my body and want to make it feel good, healthy and prepared for when I start working again, and not because I have to or because I need to punish myself. Important: The idea here is to be inclusive of all types and shapes of bodies, including those with disabilities. No one needs to do more than what we can do to be healthy, and doing the best possible with what we’ve got is more than awesome!

Catching up with my mental health: I cleaned up my Instagram feed, so that I would stop seeing unrealistic images of body types and lifestyles, that, exactly because they were unrealistic, unreasonable, and unsustainable, were only making me feel like an underachiever. I started following only people (especially women) that I find inspirational in how they grab their daily bulls by the horns and in how they make me feel like getting up and joining them in doing the best I can with the tools I have on that day. Sometimes, at the end of the day, I am able to add a checkmark in front of every bullet added in my to-do list. Other times, I fail miserably and just have to deal with it. Either way, I make a conscious effort to respect myself and walk hand-in-hand with… me! I don’t always love myself, and I very often tend to fall prey to the trap of self-loathing, but I have been trying to make a conscious effort not to give up on myself. I am just hanging in there a day more, and, together, myself and I, with self-respect and patience, we can get to the end of the tunnel.

Catching up with my studies: Do you sometimes also feel like you know nothing, that you are a fraud or that you are lucky someone actually hired you? I hear you, my friend. Impostor syndrome is no joke, and it can hit you hard. So, what I decided to do is brush up my English skills the best way I could at the moment. The first thing I did was study for certification tests (like TEOIC, TOEFL and IELTS, for example). There’s plenty of either free or paid material online that we can download and study for a few minutes, or even some hours, depending on our purpose. I feel that it has helped me a lot, especially on my writing and reading skills. Another thing I did was to purchase an online English course with native tutors. This way, I practice for a few hours a week with a native teacher, who can correct my mispronunciation and help me knock some rust off my speaking skill. However, these courses can be quite costly, in which case there’s always the possibility of reaching out to a fellow translator or English teacher and establishing a partnership for tandem studying and mutual improvement. Another thing that I find has helped a lot improve my writing skills is keeping a daily journal. I just sit and write, at least one single sentence every day in my journal. Simple as it may sound, this can be a very challenging and productive self-improvement effort.

Catching up with social responsibility: Here’s where we look out of our “miseries” and see how much the world needs our active presence and involvement. I won’t make a list of things, people, institutions or places that would desperately need our active engagement, because it varies so much from place to place, country to country, and people to people, but I will say that there’s no better time to start volunteering than when your schedule is mostly free and flexible. All it takes is the first step; reaching our hands out just a tad, and a path of self-discovery, self-healing and extremely fruitful and enriching interactions will open right in front of us.

Now, to conclude, because I’ve come a long way in my grieving/sabbatical period, and because I feel a lot better now, I find myself in a place where I would like to wave my hand high at people who might be going through challenging or even devastating situations. I am not here to try and spread pearls of wisdom or dispense unrequested advice, but, rather, to remind you that things can, and will, eventually get better and that, with a huge help from our friends and family, and maybe a significant amount of medical treatment and medication, which was exactly my case, we can all get through tough times. Meanwhile, during this process, we can catch up on things that, for whatever reason, have been neglected along the way. You can count on me if you need encouragement or help. Together, we go farther!

Sobre a autora

Mariana Barontini Sasso has been a technical translator of English and Portuguese since 2008.

Greatest Women in Translation: Valentina Gosetti

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Welcome back to our interview series!

I hope this post finds you and your loved ones well and safe, considering.

Please welcome our interviewee this month, Italian translator Valentina Gosetti, nominated by Michèle Métail.

Welcome, Valentina!

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1. Originally from Collio di Vobarno, a small Italian town in the province of Brescia, you are a native speaker of Bresciano. Could you explain what Bresciano is for us, non-Italians?

Bresciano is my first language, my mother tongue (for those who still believe in this concept…), or rather, as I like to call it, my “grandmother tongue”. It is the language my grandmother spoke to me while I was growing up and the language I still often speak with my mum when we videocall from the two ends of the world. Bresciano is often merely considered the “dialetto” of the northern Italian province of Brescia, in Lombardy, one of the most hit by this dreadful Covid-19 virus at the moment. Being a so-called “Gallo-Italic” language, it shares some sounds and words with French. It is one of the many lesser-spoken languages of Europe. Being able to speak it is a great richness. I consider it my nonna’s gift. These fast-disappearing languages are an invaluable cultural (and human!) heritage and it is our duty to preserve them and to hand them down to the next generations. I speak both Italian and Bresciano to my newborn son Roberto. I hope he’ll be carrying this heritage with him into the future.

2. You decided to revive your mother tongue by combining some of your passions: poetry and translation. How do you do that?

Some years ago, I was challenged by an Italian friend (Manuel) to translate a poem by the French poet Baudelaire into Bresciano. This seemed like an impossible task. Bresciano, being the spoken vernacular of a traditionally modest, hardworking, population, is a very down-to-earth language, which lacks abstraction. But with a little bit of creativity and poetic licence I managed to “transplant” one of the well-known Spleen poems into my native language. Unexpectedly, the splenetic soundscape worked remarkably well in Bresciano. This adventure encouraged me to keep translating more poems into Bresciano as a way of reviving this language and enriching it even further through poetic creation for the next generations of speakers. This is what led to the creation of my blog Transferre, which is an unapologetically multilingual blog hosting translations of poetry in verse or prose, from any language into any language, standard or not, with a particular focus on endangered local languages.

3. Speaking of which, could you tell us a bit more about your blog?

Although Transferre was originally created to host my translations into Bresciano, it has soon become a shared creative space to encourage poetry in translation for the preservation and the promotion of minority languages. It soon started to welcome submissions from all around the world. It now features a range of “guest translations” into languages ranging from Estremeñu to West Frisian, from Béarnais to Romanesco, from Galician to Romagnolo. Particularly dear to me are translations sent by high-school students who, hearing about Transferre, started to rediscover their grandparents’ languages through the means of poetry. Transferre is always open to new submissions from all around the world. For example, some years ago I had the great pleasure to receive a translation of Robert Frost’s poem ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’ into Guarani from a group of students based in Paraguay. This encouraging story of language preservation was even featured in the national press in Paraguay.

4. How was translation introduced in your life?

Growing up in a non-English speaking country like Italy, reading has often meant reading in translation. My first encounter with the great international literary authors has often been mediated and facilitated by brilliant Italian translators. There are some books that stand out in my memory. One of the absolute highlights of my readerly youth was Leone Ginzburg’s translation of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. I tried to read it in English once, many years later, but to my ears it was not as authentic. My Anna Karenina will always be Ginzburg’s. Translation is also an integral part of TV watching in Italy. Everything is dubbed in a country where dubbing is a real art and career path. I remember being quite disappointed to hear Leonardo DiCaprio’s real voice for the first time as a young adolescent. I thought the Italian DiCaprio sounded more charming… 

5. What do you do as a translator

As a poetry translator I mainly read, re-read, and listen. I try and fail a lot. I go back on my steps in search of a mot juste that can be glimpsed, but seems to be just ever so slightly out of reach. Or that does come, but only fleetingly, before the next change of heart. What completes the translation of a poem for me is often an unnegotiable deadline. What I mean is that when I translate poetry, I could potentially re-write the same verse for ever, in a constant quest, which is the endless present of inhabiting another voice. I think that every translation is a sort of “selfie” in time, a selfie of our reading at a given moment of our readerly Bildungsroman. But this is a kind of selfie which is not at all individualistic or self-centred, it is a selfie where the self explodes and dissolves among all sort of otherness, all the voices, the encounters, the conversations, the mentoring that have informed our reading, thinking, editing throughout this process of (self)discovery. In a recent chapter, inspired by Loiterature,[1] Ross Chambers’s brilliant essay, I termed this process as “transloiterature”.[2]

The most enriching experience in my translation journey so far has been the prolonged work on the collaborative poetry anthology of French-speaking women poets from Romanticism to the Present Day I coordinated (Donne: Poeti di Francia e oltre. Dal Romanticismo a Oggi, Ladolfi Editore, 2017). As I wrote elsewhere, reading, selecting, and translating texts by so many different women poets has been a sort of ‘ventriloquist’ activity, to say it with Ross Chambers, it is an activity ‘that takes the time to know the other’, even to inhabit it, ‘a practice that calls into question the hard-and-fast distinctions – between sameness and otherness, between familiar and distanced otherness, and between the trivial and the significant’ (Ross Chambers, Loiterature, 35). Within this anthology, I selected and translated poems by contemporary, mainly living, poets. This has given me the unique chance to meet many of them either virtually or in person. I have since undertaken new translation projects with some of them, notably Michèle Métail and Katy Rémy. Every single encounter has greatly enriched my poetry translation practice as well as my personal journey on this planet.

6. You teach Translation and Translation Theory at the University of New England, in Australia, having won the School of Arts Teaching Awards for Teaching Excellence in the Languages in 2017. What does your experience as a translation teacher teaches your translator self?

The conversations with my students are an integral part of this journey. They are embedded in that explosion of the self which forms and informs my reading, listening, writing, and translation practice. Every translation workshop I have had the fortune to host has led me to discover new, hidden treasures, which were often invisible to me. In these workshops, students are peers. They are a collective conversation during which everything is up for discussion. When we are dissecting a text together all sorts of perspectives are potentially plausible and inexhaustibly enriching. Everyone comes to the text with their own “baggage”. The text acts as a crossroad where we all meet, mingle, sometimes change direction. The result is something new that creates its new exciting pathways for others. I often have the feeling that during a translation workshop I am learning much more from my students than they are from me. I am just another student. The real host is the text. 

7. Now it’s your turn to nominate our next Great Woman in Translation.

I’d like to nominate the great Nina Parish & Emma Wagstaff! Their collaborative work is brilliant and they’ve been a constant source of inspiration especially when I was working on my poetry anthology.

[1] Chambers, Ross. Loiterature (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1999).
[2] Gosetti, Valentina. “Ross Chambers, Beyond Baudelaire: In Defence of (‘Transloitering’) Poetry” Still Loitering: Australian Essays in Honour of Ross Chambers, edited by Valentina Gosetti and Alistair Rolls, Oxford Peter Lang, 2020, pp. 145-168.

Guest post: Adapting to our new reality

Welcome back to our guest post series!

Today, please welcome Virginia Katsimpiri, Greek translator, who will talk about how to turn your translation business into an online model.

Welcome, Virginia!

Photo by Arnel Hasanovic on Unsplash

How to turn our translation business model into a virtual one so as to adapt to the new reality

When I was creating the slides for my presentation for the BP20 Conference on client-retention strategies and how to turn your existing clients into loyal promoters of your business previously this year, I could not have predicted the coronavirus crisis that would hit us all. As a result, I had to adapt the content of my speech to the current situation, which inspired me to think of methods of turning the strategies I was going to teach into online ones. And eventually our business model into a virtual one. 

Before getting into this article’s topic, I would like to mention that we, as translators and language professionals, are lucky enough to be able to practice our profession even the current situation or in the event of such a coronavirus crisis.

And I know you might be thinking, “What about us who work in-house, who are interpreters, or who are even legal translators that cannot go to the court under such circumstances?” Well, I repeat: We are lucky enough to be able to turn our business model into a virtual one, work as freelancers with clients from all over the world, or even as employees with teleworking.

I know that too many translators put all their efforts towards optimizing their sales funnels and forget about what comes after a customer makes a purchase. 

Did you know that gaining new clients is 25% more expensive than retaining your existing ones?

Here are some excellent strategies you can use not only to make loyal promoters out of your clients BUT also to turn your translation business model into a virtual one:

Engage with Your Clients Online

When you interact with clients online and show them that you value their opinion, your customers will think positively about your brand. 

This has become easier than ever especially nowadays that the whole world is connected online.

Online presence
With your website and your online presence through your social media accounts, you can interact with customers anytimeanywhere.

Direct contact
Reach customers by directly engaging with them. 
Use social media to publish posts that start a conversation, or questions that encourage customers to share their opinion. 

I totally recommend you respond directly to your customers’ comments, posts, questions, and even tweets.

High-quality content
It is very important to create high-quality content that is useful and informative for your ideal clients. They’ll appreciate your publishing content they can use, leading them to share it with their own network.

Diverse content
In order to get the best possible results, you can publish different forms of content, such as articles, videos, gifs, infographics. That way you can reach different audiences no matter what type of content they look for.

Interactive website
Set up an interactive website where your ideal clients can interact with you. How can you create an interactive website? It is simpler than you think: You can add a review section, a Q&A page, why not a live chat? All of these ways are effective when it comes to boosting your interactivity.

Hold Online Events 

One of the best ways to spread word of mouth about your business is by setting up events. Many colleagues among us know that very well and have been practicing that method for many years.

They can give you a chance to connect one-on-one with your potential customers.

The best way to have better results is to keep in mind your target market. 

Tip 1: Your clients will enjoy an event even more if it has content that fits their own unique needs and interests.

Tip 2: Your clients can help your brand reach a larger audience more effectively than you could on your own. 

Tip 3: In order to spur more participation, you can offer small giveaways for anyone who posts or tweets about the event. It can be a discount in project, or a printed calendar with your logo, for example.

Many of you have been asking me what those events could be. I always encourage my mentees to be creative and resourceful. For example, I started hosting lives on my translation business Facebook account every Monday to discuss issues my clients would be interested in.

Provide First-Class Customer Service Online

Customer service horror stories can spread in no time. It has been shown that complaints about a company’s customer service have twice as much reach as positive stories, on average. Can you imagine that?

Sometimes you cannot avoid complaints, but you can handle them the right way so each and every one of your clients feels like a priority. 

Personalised communication
Start by genuinely talking with your customers and addressing them by name. A personalized message is much more effective at engaging the recipient and building brand loyalty.

If there is a problem with one of your clients and/or projects, be respectful as you take steps to solve it. 

Valuable feedback
The more comfortable you make the customer feel, the more likely they are to appreciate your customer service and provide valuable feedback that helps you improve your business.

Always aim to go above and beyond in terms of service. Instead of learning about issues when customers complain, follow up with every customer to make sure they’re satisfied with their purchase. How you can do this? 

A very common and simple way is to use a free app/software/tool to create a survey online asking your clients to give you feedback about your work. You can send it as soon as you deliver a project. It’s an online process that builds trust between you and your clients, creating a long-lasting relationship with them. That is also a great way to ask for a testimonial that you can share later on your website or social media accounts.

Offer Freebies and Special Deals also Online 

As a great tactic, you can consider sending occasional gifts to your clients. It doesn’t have to be anything major – most of people will perceive it as a nice gesture.

I will never forget a very nice purple notebook I got from Caroline last year with her logo on it in Bologna during the BP 19 Conference as a nice gesture and also a great marketing strategy. 😉 I still have it at my office!

Customer loyalty programs and referral programs are beneficial for your business and build brand loyalty.

  • Loyalty programs lead to more sales and reward clients. You can offer a discount, for example, to loyal clients.
  • Referral programs help you build a larger customer base while rewarding customers who spread the word about your business. You can offer a percentage of the earnings to the person who refer you to potential clients, or hire a salesperson to do this professionally. 

Unexpected extras, even if it’s something as simple as an email with a discount offer or a personal letter, give customers a positive impression of your business. They’re also an easy way to keep your brand on your customers’ minds.

Final Thoughts

Sales are the lifeblood of your translation business but focusing entirely on your sales means you’re only considering short-term goals without seeing the bigger picture.

Nowadays, especially during this lockdown, we have the perfect occasion to start implementing the above-mentioned strategies to attract projects, if not now in the near future. This is the right time to be present online and remind our ideal clients about our brand.

To build a strong brand that continues growing, you need to develop a connection that makes customers want to promote your brand for you. How cool would that be?

 You can connect online through your web presence and with events. Make sure that you provide excellent service and the occasional bonuses that consistently make your customers happy.

Let me know if you have any more ideas that could help us transform our business model into a virtual one.

If you still struggle with finding clients, getting more projects and creating a steady workflow, I’ve got you covered: I created a 90’ free masterclass to teach all strategies that I’ve used and that helped me expand my business over the years, and triple my income over the last few years.

Register for free here now! It’s tomorrow, May 28, 5 pm CET!

I created this masterclass especially for these times of crisis we’re all experiencing.

About the author

Virginia Katsimpiri is an English & French to Greek Certified Translator, with more than 13 years of full-time translation experience in the following fields: law, finance & aeronautics/defence industry. She holds an ΜA in Translation & an Executive MBA. As a certified translator and coach, Virginia teaches and practices translator mentoring methods. For her MBA dissertation Virginia ran a qualitative research study on “Client Acquisition Strategies for Language Professionals”, while she helps other translators to attract clients and build their profitable business.
You can visit her website or LinkedIn | Contact: &

Life, translation, and the new normal

To begin with, I think it’s worth mentioning that, for me, life and translation are somewhat intertwined. Translation is my life, but my life is not all about translation. So let’s consider this reading from that angle.

But first things first: How are you hanging in there? I sincerely hope things are well, considering the circumstances, of course. But do share with me in the comments below how your life has changed with this new normal.

I’m on my 58th day of self-quarantine.

  • I’m single, I live by myself, no children.
  • I’m a freelance translator who has always worked at home, so nothing changed there.
  • I work in an area and with clients that have not been affected by the pandemic. (Come to IT, y’all!)
  • I’m an introvert (although it may not seem so; believe me, even I was shocked when my therapist told me so) and I love staying at home, watching TV (God bless Netflix!).
  • I live in a small town that has not been seriously affected (yet?).
  • I can shop online for most of the things I need.
  • If I really need to go out, I have a car.

Biggest changes in my routine: No weekly manicure (I’ll live), no yoga classes twice a week, no gym during the week, not seeing my nephews (this is hard!), no occasional meetings with friends to talk over a drink and laugh.

If this does not mean privilege, I don’t know what does.

I should be feeling gooood, right? I should be jumping in total bliss.

Well, one of the things COVID-19 is teaching us is that absolutely nothing is obvious, expected, and black-in-white.

Everything started in the beginning of my self-quarantine, when I came to the conclusion that my fully planned and paid-for vacation trip to Europe with my mom would have to be cancelled. Oh, the headache to cancel everything (which I’m still doing, btw)! Oh, the disappointment! Oh, the despair of having absolutely no idea when I’ll be able to take a vacation (something I religiously do at least once a year). After all, why take a vacation to stay at home, something I do every single day? And all of this while dealing with the dreaded COVID-19 reality. Oh, the fear! I lost it. I had a terrible week where I just felt like sleeping and crying, and didn’t feel like working (yes, me!).

Since then, it’s been like an emotional roller coaster.

It’s like I’m bipolar or something.

I had down-in-the-dumps, cry-my-eyes-out, let-me-sleep-forever moments, and then I’d have ok moments. I didn’t feel like posting on social media. I couldn’t even think about my podcast and blog. I hated every single live! I barely had the strength to work, so I saved all my energy to it, which was already a huge effort.

I miss going out with friends and travelling. I miss hugs. I still don’t feel like exercising at home. For me, it doesn’t make sense to exercise (a relaxing time) where I work (online). I need the human “contact” and presence. After all, it’s already a big deal working where I live. And being stuck at home, not being able to leave, makes things worse.

Since I’m an introvert by nature and I love being with myself, I’ve learned to recognize, understand, and question my feelings and behaviors. Now I’ve learned something else: Embracing them.

No matter who you are, what you do, and to what extent your life has been affected by the pandemic, it’s absolutely normal to feel sad, depressed, or not your usual self. We’re living in unprecedented times filled by fear. We have absolutely no idea what the future holds and when this nightmare will go away (if it will ever be completely gone). This reality, in itself, can really make we lose our minds.

So here’s what I have learned so far:

  • It’s totally ok to feel the way you are feeling. Learn to identify, understand, and question your feelings, but, most of all, embrace them. Think of yourself as a scared child who needs love, understanding, and a great deal of pampering. Treat yourself to whatever you feel you need.
  • You don’t feel like exercising in front of your mobile phone, computer, or TV? Then don’t! Someday, somehow, the feeling will come, or you will find something you feel like doing. Give it time.
  • Do you feel like eating everything and a bit more? Just do it! Again, someday, somehow, you will feel like eating healthier. Try to do it, of course, but don’t feel bad for not feeling like it. Do not judge yourself. Be patient and caring.
  • You don’t have to take all the free courses available, watch all lives, attend all webinars, read all books, learn all languages. Living and hanging in there during these difficult times are, by themselves, effort enough.
  • Try to shield and protect yourself from the crude reality as much as possible. If you don’t have to, why research every single detail and news about COVID-19? It won’t change anything. The reality is heartbreaking, and if we really think about all those people who are dying alone, those family members and friends who can’t even properly say good-bye to their loved ones, those who lost their jobs or who are suffering financial losses and going through tough financial difficulties, we will break. I did. Do whatever you can to try to help however you can, but don’t think about it too much, for your own mental sake. It’s not selfishness, as long as you don’t ignore the reality and do whatever you can to help those in need. It’s self-preservation. After all, we’re at war. Do your part, but prioritize yourself.

united-nations-covid-19-response-Chevon Beckley-unsplash

Photo by Chevon Beckley on Unsplash

I wanted to share my experience with you because I struggled to come to these conclusions myself. Lately, I’ve been having good weeks. I’m feeling more motivated and happier to revive my blog and podcast, and social media channels. I’m even participating in lives! I don’t know if this will last and for how long, but I have to leverage it.

Embrace your bad moments and take advantage of your good ones.

Live one day at a time.

Be safe.

Don’t be hard on yourself.

And know you are not alone.

Greatest Women in Translation: Michèle Métail


Created by Érick Tonin

Dearest readers,

I’m alive! Tough times, huh? I hope you are all doing fine, at least considering our circumstances.

Bear with me while I try to get back on track with posts this month. But at least now I hope I manage to update the blog as I should. Stay tuned!

Meanwhile, please welcome our next Greatest Women in Translation interviewee, French poet and translator Michèle Métail, nominated by Jody Gladding back in March.

Michèle Métail-2

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1. You were the first female member of Oulipo, “an extremely divergent group of writers, all of whom adhered to the same basic literary principle in that they observed self-imposed writing constraints,” as described by this Poetry International Archives article. Could you tell us a bit more about Oulipo?

The main purpose of Oulipo, as planned by its founders (Raymond Queneau and François Le Lionnais in 1960), was to create new writing rules (based on mathematics), that other writers could also use and let evolve. A historical example was the sonnet. After my cooptation in the group in 1975, I developed another kind of relationship between text and form, where form is also part of meaning, so that a new form appears only in one work and is never used a second time. This relationship between text and form was the reason why I left the group in 1998. However, I am always working with rules, constraints. Among the new rules promoted by Oulipo, several of them concern translation extending the concept to the homophonic or lipogram translation (see Georges Perec translating Rimbaud, for example), or the Multitranslation invented by Outranspo.

2. Together with Bernard Heidsieck, you founded Dixit, “a movement that sets out to merge the different artistic expressive forms rather than to emphasize the differences between them,” according to the same article above. Could you also tell us a bit more about Dixit?

Bernard Heidsieck was a French sound and visual poet who was connected to other poets of the same movement, all over the world, like John Giorno, Bob Cobbing, Haroldo da Campos, the Wiener Gruppe and so on, at a time festivals were organized in some countries but France was looking like a desert in the matter. So we founded this association and decided, in 1980, to organize a big festival, Poésie sonore internationale, in three towns: Le Havre, Rennes and Paris (Centre Pompidou). In collaboration with institutes we invited poets from several European countries: Germany, Austria, England, Italy, Sweden, Yugoslavia, as well as eight French poets. When we perform together, we question translation and the meaning of words, sometimes being possible to understand without speaking the language. This festival was successful but at the same time Jean-Jacques Lebel was stating the same fact and founded Polyphonix, a great nomad festival. After a long period without possibilities to promote this non-academic form of poetry, both associations were developing the same purpose. So we joined Lebel and Polyphonix, and broke up our association. Later in 1995 I founded, with composer Louis Roquin, another association: Les Arts contigus, a project to connect different artistic expressive forms. We organized great exhibitions with readings, concerts. The concept of contiguity emphasizes the borderline between two expressive forms, such as visual poetry = the text as an image, and visual scores for music = when the composer doesn’t write notes as usual but creates new signs to express new sonorities. We also invited artists from other countries. The question of creation in another language and translation was acute.

3. In some of your poems you use formats taken from other media, such as a series consisting of 10 lines with 15 letters each, derived from the standard measurements of photographs. Could you tell us a bit more about your poetry creation process?

I often work with photos. As I arrived in Berlin as a DAAD guest for one year, I began to take pictures of the town through reflections on windows. It was an unreal town, inversed, with broken lines that I saw. I wanted to write about my discovery, my experience in the town, and decided to write poetry in the form of my photo prints: 10 x 15 cm, that is, poems of 10 verses and 15 letters each. With these few letters, the syntax was also broken, like the reflections. It’s what I call photo format in the work Cadastre (in Toponyme: Berlin), grouped in a series of 24 photos and 36 poems (format of the negative). In another work about Japan, I used as text pattern the Genkô Yôshi, a scholar’s paper with 400 squares to fill. In this series, each text contains 400 letters. I’m always looking for measures related to my subject and, as I said, I only use them once.

4. How was translation introduced in your life?

I studied German for the first time at the university. I learned about contemporary poetry through the Wiener Gruppe, when I lived in Vienna (1972-73), but this kind of text is impossible to translate faithfully, because they work on several levels (sound, visual), not only meaning. Later, when I lived in Berlin (2000-2001), the literaturWERKSTATT (today Haus für Poesie) organized a meeting with French and German poets. My partner was Thomas Kling. He was also skeptical about poetry translation but it was indeed a fantastic experience. We both adopted one another’s work and re-built it in our own language. We found a real complicity, and our exchanges were intense. We had long discussions about the use of some words. At the end of the workshop there was a reading, it was a great moment. Thomas Kling found the same rhythm in his translation as in my poems. Other workshops followed, in Berlin and other places. It’s always an opportunity not only to know the work of other poets, but also to increase our own poetic world.

In several other projects I use patterns, constraints used by translators to create a version in their own language. For example, Marcella Durand translated my book about Marseille (a panorama of the town in 14 views), each view in 48 lines of 24 letters, without punctuation. Marcella transposed this constraint into English (The Earth’s Horizons, Black Square Editions). She explains she needed to create her own language, as I did. It’s not a translation word for word but keeping the spirit of the text, sometimes in other words. In the same way I worked with the German poet Ulrike Draesner on a translation in 5 syllables of a long poem about China. Working with the German language was particularly difficult because words are longer and syntax more complicated but the original poem has 2,870 verses, and she translated it in the same length. I’m also working with the Austrian poet Christian Steinbacher. I translated his text, and without speaking French he re-built some of my texts in German, for example, Portraits Robots (Phantome, Phantome, soon by Korrespondenzen). In all these cases the publication is bilingual. Both poems evolve in parallel. That’s my experience as a poet translator and a translated poet.

5. Could you tell us a bit more about your life as a translator?

I talked about translating from the German, but the most I do is from the Chinese, a few texts from contemporary poets and more from old Chinese. The starting point was Georges Perec’s death. After his funeral, I came back home and was so sad, I couldn’t do anything. Suddenly, I saw a book on my desk, that I had recently bought: Chinese Poetic Writing by François Cheng (available in English by Calligrams). I opened the book aimlessly and read a sentence about the possibility to write palindromes in Chinese. Georges Perec wrote the longest palindromic text in French. I interpreted this coincidence as a sign of my diseased friend and decided to study Chinese in order to learn more about this type of poetry, for myself. It was in 1983 and I was 33 years old. In 1994 I wrote a doctoral thesis about Chinese reversible poems with François Cheng. I never thought I could become a bookworm and write about a very old tradition. I was a poet and didn’t want to teach at the university, I was also too old, but I tried another way, a creative way, to pass on old Chinese texts. My translations are part of a larger project that focus on China today, that is, reading about the past and better understanding the present. For example, I travelled for three months throughout China (from East to West) on the same path as a Song dynasty poet (12th century), Lu You, who was the first to write a travel diary in China. I took it as a guide and went to the same places, collecting landscape poetry. The book (Voyage au pays de Shu) mix extracts of Lu You’s diary and mine. It’s the first part, Journal 1170 – 1998, but the book is reversible and the second part is an anthology of collected poems, 140 in total, illustrating all the 26 chapters of the diaries. The reader can read the diary and the anthology separately or move from one to the other. In 2011 I took another trip on the same path as a Tang dynasty poet, Wang Wei (8th century), a great landscape poet and painter. The book (Le paysage après Wang Wei) also consists of two parts: 20 views on current China with references to the past in places where Wang Wei had been and a new translation of his famous work Le recueil de la rivière Wang, that contains 20 poems on his own estate. This place was the goal of my trip and it was very instructive about modern China!

6. How was your experience of being translated by Jody Gladding, our previous interviewee, in Wild Geese Returning: Chinese Reversible Poems?

It was a great deal for Jody Gladding because she doesn’t speak Chinese and translated from the French, but she was fascinated by this masterpiece written by a woman in the middle of the 4th century. My translation from the Chinese was already particular because the diagram poem contains 841 characters that give over 3,000 poems. For a group of 36 characters inscribed in a square for example, you find 64 different ways to read a poem, and in a translation you need to write the 64 poems or some of them. They cannot be restricted to one square, like in Chinese. We must develop, unfold the original diagram. The translation cannot be a picture like the original but it has to be informative. We had a lot of exchanges about references that Su Hui recalled, about the meaning of some words in connection with the way of life of the time, of history. It was also for me a great opportunity to improve my translation. Translating is always a dynamic process, that’s why it is exciting.

7. Now it’s your turn to nominate our next Great Woman in Translation.

The Italian translator Valentina Gosetti. She published, in collaboration with Andrea Bedeschi and Adriano Marchetti, an important anthology about French women poetry from Romanticism to modern times: Poeti di Francia e Oltre. Dal Romanticismo a oggi. I discovered a lot of poets I had never read.

Greatest Women in Translation: Jody Gladding


Created by Erick Tonin

Welcome back to our Greatest Women in Translation series!

This month, after a one-month break (my bad), we return with the series with Jody Gladding, nominated by Linda Coverdale.

Jody Gladding

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1. What came first, the poet or the translator? How?

Poetry came first. Translation followed as a way to earn my living. But its real appeal is that it lets me work with language in the same close way—and I don’t have to come up with content.

2. You wrote Translations from Bark Beetle (Milkweed Editions, 2014), a book of poems that, according to this paper, helps “students get the profundity of the Latin of translate, which points toward a carrying across.” Could you tell us more about the book?

The title comes from a series of poems that are, literally, translations of bark beetle engravings, with the original “text” as the facing page. I include notes on bark beetle grammar and invent a new pronoun form. I’m playing, of course—for me, play often precedes discovery. If insect marks can be a text, then the realm of linguistic beings expands enormously. Imagine the possibilities for translators!

3. Besides being a poet and translator you are also an artist. Do you combine poetry and translation into your works of art? If so, how?

The art I make extends from the poetry, and translation plays a part as well. My latest project, for instance, is a collection of nests in which text—strips of it cut from a nineteenth-century French phrase book—is included as one more nesting material ( I’m interested in how poems operate as physical acts, in three-dimensional space, in the world at large. Artists like Cecilia Vicuña, Ann Hamilton, and Roni Horn also explore these questions, although they’ve come to them through visual art and I’ve gotten there through writing.

4. You translated two meditation-related books by François Cheng. Did your experience translating the books inspire you to start meditating? I ask as someone who has tried meditation a couple of times but hasn’t given up just yet.

Keep trying! François Cheng is a remarkable figure. He’s written extensively on Chinese art and poetry as well as being something of a zen master.  I’m married to a Chinese translator, David Hinton, so I was already familiar with Cheng’s work when I translated his meditions on beauty and on death. I’ve meditated from time to time, but don’t have a regular practice, though I do practice yoga. 

5. François Cheng is also a translator. Is it a different experience to translate for an author who is also a translator?

I’ve translated three authors who are also translators, all of whom translate Chinese: François Cheng, François Julien, and Michèle Métail. I’ve also translated a French translation of The Tao Te Ching into English. In all these cases, the main difference about the experience was dealing with three languages, not just two. Though in the company of Chinese, French and English hardly seem like different languages.

6. Are there any particularities in translating French into English that you like and/or dislike?

Well, as Linda Coverdale points out in your last blog, the on is a great and versatile French pronoun that we don’t have a good equivalent for in English. And going the opposite way, a particularity that keeps striking me, especially this winter as I’m spending it in France, is that there’s no word in French for home. 

7. Now it’s your turn to nominate our next Great Woman in Translation.

Thanks for this opportunity to bring women translators into the limelight. I’d like to nominate Michèle Métail, a wonderful French poet who translates from both German and Chinese. She has translated into French the remarkable “reversible poem” by the 4th century woman poet Su Hui. A grid of 840 characters (originally embroidered on silk as a gift to her husband), it can be read as many as 12,000 different ways.

Guest post: Benefícios dos óleos essenciais

Sem bem-vindos de volta à série de convidados!

Hoje, recebemos a Juliana Mendes, patrocinadora e palestrante do evento “Dia do bem-estar”, que estou organizando com o William Cassemiro. Ele será realizado no dia 8 de fevereiro, em São Paulo. As inscrições estão abertas e são limitadas! Saiba mais aqui.


Imagem fornecida pela autora

A renovação pela tradução

A tradução chegou na minha vida durante meu estágio de faculdade. Sou formada em Produção Editorial – área que escolhi pelo meu amor aos livros. No meu estágio em uma grande editora, trabalhei em uma revista para adolescentes que usava matérias de uma revista americana. Um dos fatores mais importantes para a minha contratação foi justamente o fato de eu ser fluente em inglês. Essa experiência foi extremamente importante em minha carreira e nela pude melhorar meu vocabulário em uma época em que ainda não tínhamos o Google – sim, muito tempo atrás. Lá também atuava como produtora de moda e fotografia, aprendi na prática processos de editoração eletrônica e pude descobrir como todo o processo gráfico se desenvolve com todo o dinamismo, pesquisa, escrita e revisão. Tornei-me uma pessoa capaz de lidar com muitas tarefas que eu hoje utilizo em meu trabalho como tradutora e que fazem com que eu possa oferecer um resultado melhor para meus clientes.

Após meu estágio, fui contratada por uma rede de lojas de roupas femininas. Cuidava de todo o visual da marca, mas também dava treinamentos sobre vendas, postura das equipes e visual. Nesse momento, eu conheci uma pessoa que mais tarde mudaria toda a minha vida.

Depois dessa experiência, tive muitas outras que acredito terem sido importantes em meu processo de crescimento como pessoa, líder e empresária.

A tradução sempre esteve presente em minhas outras empreitadas. Sempre aparecia com a necessidade do meu trabalho – como secretária de presidência ou para ajudar algum amigo estrangeiro, alguém da família e em alguns estudos em que eu me interessei e me propus a fazer para meu crescimento pessoal. Entre esses estudos, muito material de PNL, numerologia, espiritualidade e Aromaterapia.

A Aromaterapia entrou na minha vida cerca de 20 anos atrás, por meio de uma amiga e coach que me orientava e que me fez entender que não podemos apenas crescer profissionalmente – nosso lado pessoal é uma parte importante do processo de crescimento profissional. Não adianta só pensar na carreira e esquecer que você tem que estar feliz para conseguir ter criatividade, resiliência, produtividade e realização.

Comecei usando o óleo de lavanda, como a maioria das pessoas. A lavanda é, sem dúvida, a planta mais utilizada em fragrâncias, cosméticos, perfumes. Todo mundo tem a memória afetiva da lavanda registrada em seu sistema límbico, parte do sistema neurológico que cuida de nossas memórias afetivas e remete a sabores, aromas e lembranças (boas ou ruins).

A Aromaterapia cresceu muito nesses últimos 20 anos. O que antes era hábito mais comum entre os europeus recebeu o input americano e a busca por pesquisas científicas sobre plantas, óleos e aromas – processos de extração, níveis de pureza, maneiras de uso e resultados. A humanidade, mesmo crescendo em velocidade galopante nos últimos anos em tecnologia, percebeu que a busca por resultados em torno da felicidade e bem-estar também era necessária.

Disso vieram as pesquisas sobre alimentação, nutrição esportiva, restrições alimentares, superalimentos, suplementação e regulações na indústria de alimentos que terão que se adequar a esse novo mercado formado por quem busca cuidar melhor do corpo e da mente.

Durante minha jornada profissional, conheci muitas pessoas que foram importantes para o meu crescimento, principalmente para o desafio de ser empreendedora.

Após anos trabalhando como secretária, gerente regional de bilheterias de teatro, área comercial (sim, sou uma vendedora nata) tive a chance de trabalhar com a pessoa que mais me ensinou sobre ser uma empresária. Sobre resiliência, escolhas, foco, resultados. Sobre não ter medo de trabalhar, sobre não ter uma visão a curto prazo para os resultados que sempre desejei atingir. Fui secretária do Abraham Kasinsky, lenda da indústria automobilística brasileira. Foram quatro anos de dedicação diária, amor, aprendizado com um homem que ditou quais deveriam ser as regras para a nossa indústria. Destemido, começou seu império “com uma caneta Parker e peito”, como ele mesmo dizia. Essa visão de como as pessoas devem ser lideradas – com igualdade e respeito, como as empresas precisam de resultados, como não devemos temer dar um passo maior quando chega o momento de decisão para a próxima etapa de grande crescimento – aprendi com ele.

Pude colocar essa visão em prática quando, com meu marido, comprei uma loja de produtos naturais de uma grande rede de franquias. O desafio foi enorme. Aprendi a ter que dar resultados para poder manter não só a minha família, mas a de meus colaboradores também. Aprendi a ouvir as pessoas (longo processo de treinamento com o Sr. Kasinsky) e identificar suas necessidades, atendê-las como pessoas e não apenas como clientes. Essa loja me fez adotar novos hábitos de alimentação e qualidade de vida. A ter metas, cumpri-las e superá-las. A ser dona do meu nariz com todas as consequências que isso traz.

Após quase 7 anos com a loja, tivemos uma excelente oferta e resolvemos vendê-la. Já havíamos atingido nossos objetivos – já tínhamos transformado uma loja quebrada em uma loja maravilhosa. Já havíamos mudado de endereço. Já havíamos multiplicado nossos resultados absurdamente e já havíamos cumprido nosso caminho naquele que foi, sem dúvida, um período de muito crescimento para nós.

Em 2017, um ano antes da venda de nossa loja, eu já estava em busca de um plano B. Eu já não tinha mais tanta satisfação com o meu trabalho. Tinha estagnado. Comecei a me perguntar com o quê eu gostaria de trabalhar e decidi que tinha que ser algo que eu realmente amasse. Foi aí que a tradução voltou à minha vida. Fiz alguns cursos para voltar preparada. Tirei minha certificação do idioma inglês.

Em 2018, vendemos a loja e nos mudamos para Santos – cidade em que eu sempre quis viver. Passei um ano inteiro estudando, fazendo novas conexões. Fui atrás de muito conteúdo para poder me adequar ao mercado e desenvolver essa minha “nova” carreira.

Veja, o crescimento que obtemos é aquele que temos como objetivo. Nós ditamos com quem e em qual mercado queremos trabalhar. Com experiência e trabalho sério, podemos estabelecer nossas tarifas, conquistar novos clientes, melhorar nosso rendimento. Há que ter muita determinação para ser um freelancer. Há que se perder medos, enfrentar novos desafios e aprender todos os dias – com os erros e como melhorar os acertos também.

Em 2019, comecei mais um negócio que consigo gerenciar com o meu trabalho como tradutora. Sou distribuidora e educadora em Aromaterapia da maior fabricante de óleos essenciais do mundo. Descobri que não sabia muita coisa sobre os óleos essenciais – mesmo tendo desenvolvido em minha loja um local de referência para compra e orientação sobre o uso de óleos essenciais.

Traduzi muito material para estudo, pesquisa e treinamento. Pude pesquisar mais profundamente, estudar, aplicar e ver a diferença que a pureza de um óleo pode trazer para a vida. Nesse processo interior, apliquei os óleos no meu dia a dia de maneira nova, consciente, consistente e vi os resultados não só em meu trabalho e felicidade, mas em toda a minha família. Pude conhecer pessoas que têm uma visão de vida muito parecida com a minha e ver um novo horizonte profissional, trazendo de volta para a minha vida a prática de ouvir e ajudar as pessoas (adoro isso!).

Os óleos podem ser usados de várias maneiras, e suas moléculas entram em nosso corpo pelo olfato, pele ou ingestão – veja, não estou falando de qualquer coisa que você encontre por aí dizendo ser um óleo essencial de grade terapêutica. Assim como temos cuidado ao escolher nossos alimentos, cosméticos, produtos para a casa e suplementos – que entrarão dentro do nosso maior templo, nosso corpo – temos que ter cuidado ao escolher nossos óleos.

Algumas dicas de óleos essenciais e uso:

Lavanda – o mais universal dos óleos – tem efeitos calmantes para a alma e pele, cicatrizante (aplique em queimaduras e verá), limpeza e desinfecção.

Alecrim – esse óleo é conhecido por seu uso em situações em que precisamos aumentar nosso foco e concentração – ajuda a oxigenar as células do cérebro, aumentando nosso desempenho.

Limão – temos que ter cuidado com o óleo de limão e qualquer outro óleo ou blend que contenha frutas cítricas. Eles são fotossensíveis e podem causar manchas na pele. O óleo de limão é rico em limoneno – substância exaustivamente estudada e pesquisada por suas propriedades antioxidantes. Promove a alegria, equilibra o pH do nosso organismo quando ingerido.

Ficou curioso?

No dia 8 de fevereiro, serei palestrante no Dia do Bem-Estar, evento destinado a pessoas que trabalham geralmente sozinhas, empreendedoras, e que, por isso, muitas vezes acabam extrapolando o seu limite e enfrentando grandes níveis de estresse.

Se você é uma dessas pessoas, participe!

Em meus canais também promovo vídeos e treinamento sobre o uso dos óleos e suas propriedades. Dê uma olhada em minhas redes sociais: LinkedIn,, site, página da Young Living, Instagram e Instagram da Clever Essentials.

Entre em contato e ficarei feliz em te ouvir e ajudar:

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Juliana Mendes é tradutora técnica, empresária e educadora em óleos essenciais.

Greatest Women in Translation: Linda Coverdale


Created by Érick Tonin

Happy New Year, dear readers! I hope you have had a great holiday season and are ready to rock 2020.

Let’s start by welcoming our first interviewee of 2020, Linda Coverdale, nominated by Ros Schwartz.

Linda Coverdale

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1. You told me that once you wandered into translation, you “took to it like a hermit in a cave, Saint Jerome in flip-flops.” How did you wander into translation?

By accident, at long last. Both sides of my family loved books and languages, and my parents even moved to France for a year so their young children could soak up French. Back home again, I studied Latin, Spanish, some German, kept reading, wrote stories, but worried that writing was too vague and risky to bank on for a profession. Good at biology, dreaming of oceanography, I picked my university early for its bio department, then barely survived bio-chemistry. Once at Brown, I listed French as my major, just to tread water for a while. Fascinated by ancient Egypt ever since I fell spellbound forever as a child, in my one and only experience of religious awe, before seven massive statues of the lioness-headed goddess Sekhmet in a dim and deserted hall at the Met, I eagerly took courses in Egyptology, and felt grounded again. Then I learned that the department chairman had mastered fourteen languages, plus the three types of hieroglyphics. So: another misfire.

Then French literature became a wonderland, and the junior year abroad was an adventure in all directions. Discovering the critical and literary works of writers like Blanchot, Richard, Poulet, and Bachelard led me to graduate studies at Johns Hopkins University, where Derrida, De Man, Deleuze et al were holding court before Yale lured them away. The doctoral program’s year in Paris brought courses at the École normale supérieure, the École pratique des hautes études, the Sorbonne—and playing hooky at the Cinémathèques of Chaillot and the rue d’Ulm. My French dissertation was a labor of true love: Les romans d’Albertine, all because I’d sneaked the Scott Moncrieff Remembrance of Things Past from my parents’ bookshelves when I was about twelve, and God only knows what I made of it, but that die was cast. Offered a good teaching job, however, I balked. I’d had teaching fellowships, was a good teacher, revered the profession, but it deserved a passion I definitely did not feel. Another chilling impasse.

Writing my dissertation, I’d begun drawing at night when the brain had stopped Prousting but was still ticking over, and someone suggested that I’d gotten things backwards, because my drawings were good. Naturally, I went to art school, the Parsons School of Design. Those were marvelous years, but I have never pulled as many all-nighters as I did there, because with art, you see at a glance if something works or not, and it doesn’t matter how long you worked, if it doesn’t. But no one will hire you until your portfolio proves that someone else already has.

Now I had four degrees, but no job. I worked renovating houses, painting murals, and as production manager first on an indie movie, then in a small publishing company, where the accountant told me one day that Richard Howard, French translator extraordinaire, had two Roland Barthes books on deck but time for only one, and so, my friend Keith continued, he had volunteered my services. Oh no, I said, I know nothing about translation. Too late, replied Keith, I told him you can write, know French—and studied with Roland Barthes. Trapped. So, why not, I did my greenhorn best with The Grain of the Voice. The publisher called with another book, by a Cambodian girl who’d seen her family murdered by the Khmer Rouge. Adopted out of a Thai refugee camp by two Czech exiles in Paris, she’d spent a year weeping and raving in Khmer, dancing out her story while her adoptive mother tamed her gently, taught her French, and helped her write everything down. Again, I did my best, and have done so ever since, because the books kept coming. And they have taken me around the world, through the best and worst of humanity.

As for Saint Jerome, patron of translators, he keeps a skull for company, and ducking into that cave is how we translate. I pop in earplugs to enter the zone, where you feel at one with the “reeling and writhing” of French and English, words sluicing around among thoughts, on the page, shifting this way? That way? And you always, always, listen to what’s in your head: what does it mean? How does it read?

For example, I saw that my first Echenoz novel, Ravel, was less comic, more serious than the earlier books, with a “real” protagonist, yet still playful, with an elegance suited to the mannered but ultimately tragic figure of Maurice Ravel. And the novel opens . . . in his bathtub! “On s’en veut quelquefois de sortir de son bain.” En vouloir à, a convoluted expression of long history, means to reproach, be angry at, bear a grudge toward, resent, blame; s’en vouloir de doubles down: I regret, I’m irritated/furious/pissed off at myself, could have kicked myself. That’s trouble right there: “One is sometimes angry with oneself for getting out of one’s bath.” Stodge! French relies on “one”; British English finds it useful; American English uses it sparingly. That all-important introductory sentence went through kaleidoscopic changes, because the rest of the paragraph is a precise, slightly disdainful description of fussing over getting out of the tub while avoiding a possibly embarrassing injury, folderol that often required readjusting the whole paragraph to rebalance it. Finally, the first sentence wound up, simply, “Leaving the bathtub is sometimes quite annoying.” That fit the mood, sense, rhythm, and tone of the paragraph, even though the French sentence had three elements of a “self” now absent from the English. Reading later in an interview that Echenoz had had real trouble with his opening sentence, I felt relief, but learning that he’d settled happily on an alexandrine, I quickly checked my English: twelve syllables! Close enough. Sometimes you know more than you think you do.

I can now see how all my wandering was useful, even necessary, for my translations. Voracious reading stocked my mental reference library: I remember—in Technicolor—daring to pull The Brothers Karamazov from a school library shelf for a book report when I was eleven. Madness! But that book and all the others shoved new words and challenging syntax into me as if force-feeding a goose. The years in France provided vital firsthand knowledge of French life as it is lived, saving me from many a pitfall. My approach to translating has always been to make the English text reflect not simply what the French says, but also what it means to French readers. Languages and music helped me with the varied rhythms of an English text. Art school and museums taught me to decipher and compose images, while the study of literature and criticism let me make increasingly complicated sense of what I read, the vital requirement for correctly inflecting a translation in the subtlest ways.

In the end, I achieved my childhood ambition to become a writer, since fidelity in translation isn’t slavish faithfulness to words and syntax, but the result of skilled critical interpretation. Translators have different ways of remaining true to the French originals, and just as painters interpret what they see, so do we each see a French text through our own eyes, and tell readers what we saw, and for our reports to be moving, we mustn’t “copy” the original, but give our words a full-bodied life of their own. That life is our art, a re-creation, from melting down the French in our minds and recasting it in English.

Helped immensely by family and friends, teachers, publishers, editors, authors, and other translators, I finally and gratefully settled into my true vocation.

2. You were in the French-American Foundation (FAF) Translation Prize jury for 17 years and describe the experience as priceless. Why? What have you learned in those 17 years reviewing fiction and non-fiction book samples and helping provide finalists in each category?

The cast of characters on that jury shifts over the years, but a tableful of translators, university professors, and the odd literary figure guarantees passionate discussion and even some melodramatic extravagance. When I once questioned a new juror’s support of a shoddy translation, he proudly announced that he hadn’t checked any French texts, but simply bestowed his “discerning eye” upon some select English samples. Appalled, I asked him, nicely, just why he was on a translation prize jury, whereupon this emeritus professor remembered an urgent appointment and vanished, trailing his scarf. Silence. “Well,” remarked the FAF chairman with a smile, “that was interesting!” He always said sitting in on our jury was the most fun he had all year.

And it was fun, but I also discovered how bad a translation can be, even from a respected publishing house. British publishers seem to have more in-house French expertise, and their quality control is more reliable than ours. That’s the depressing aspect of the jury: slowly (or immediately!) realizing that a translator is overmatched, and sometimes vastly so. Things can become surreal: I remember a sample by the head of an American university French department who had translated classics of French literature, but whose English at times went berserk, to the point of changing farm boys sliding down a haystack into a child locked in a crowded broom closet. Another well-known translator produced a text so insanely muddled that I suspected senile dementia. How had these travesties made it into print? Of course the major problem is not knowing enough French, but more insidious is sloppiness, inattention to the original text, especially if it only seems simply written. Paying insightful attention to details is crucial, so when the translator is an insensitive reader, the English may be grammatically correct, even easily readable, but the full French text has faded, and this holds true for both fiction and non-fiction. Over the years I saw several versions of Alexis de Toqueville’s Democracy in America, and the variations in quality among those texts was remarkable.

I think my major accomplishment on the FAF Jury was eventually persuading them to drop their shocking rule allowing translators on the jury to vote for themselves. And the chief lesson I learned was: how to wheel and deal! It’s literary horse trading. We all arrive at the voting luncheons knowing what we want, but as we wrangle and reflect, titles rise and fall in favor, points are conceded, loyalties swayed, darlings abandoned. A proper prize jury with sixty or seventy bilingual submissions to review (with three samples each in French and English) is a vast amount of work, but the drudgery and disappointments are forgotten in the end, when all vote on the finalists, and the winners emerge. So the Prize Luncheon was always a joy. Serving on that jury was a master class in the good, the bad, and the ugly, but the best submissions were a restorative delight.

3. You say you only translate works you can do justice to and feel a bond with. What book have you felt the greatest bond with and has touched you the most?

There are so many truly special ones! I’ll say Slave Old Man by the Martinican author Patrick Chamoiseau, whose first novel my friend Keith (intervening fatefully again) asked me to review in 1986. Chronique des sept misères was an absolute stunner, but when Carcanet offered to buy it for me, I knew it was too difficult. That hurt. In 1995 André Schiffrin of New Press provided what became Creole Folktales, Chamoiseau’s English debut and my first venture into his world. I was exploring French Caribbean literature, legends, plants, proverbs, history, vaudou, Creole culture in all its forms, amassing books, Xeroxes, glossaries, scribbled notes, prowling tiny NYC libraries, seeking Martinican contacts, especially during visits to the French Caribbean.

My next step was his School Days in 1996, and when my first love returned years later, I was ready: the magical-comical saga of the Chronicle of the Seven Sorrows appeared in 1999. L’Esclave vieil homme et le molosse had come out in 1997 and it was breathtaking, a creation myth of such heart and purity! But it had already been bought over here, so I was crushed. When I later learned from a casual remark that L’Esclave was back in play after almost twenty years (my second second chance at a Chamoiseau treasure!), I pounced. And then the battle began.

The molosser, a huge dog of an ancient breed, became a “mastiff” in English and vanished altogether from the title due to sales rep feedback, but in all else, New Press supported me magnificently in my translation, which was daunting. A few books have driven me to nervous exhaustion, deep despair, and this one did. A simple tale: pursued by the ferocious dog and its master, a mute slave bolts from a long-ago Martinican plantation into an ancient rain forest, where this ordeal will transform them all in extraordinary ways, for they enter an overwhelming physical reality, a wild, lush jungle of life and decay into which the reader plunges as well, as the novel’s powerfully intricate language entangles us in an evocation of nature beyond all human control. Space and time meld in this living maze, where, revived in his lost identity and freedom, the old man reclaims his voice, and is whole again.

The book is as dense as some exotic new element, sinister but beautiful and embodied in a language that belongs in a way to itself alone. It bristles with Creole words, phrasings, and plenty of Chamoiseau-speak. French syntax is artfully tweaked until it becomes a kind of pepper pot, that perpetual stew kept going by Caribs and Arawaks who continually tossed whatever they had at hand into the communal caldron. I have had to reshape English in other books, notably in the Rwandan reportage of Jean Hatzfeld, matching the peculiarities of Belgian- and Kinyarwanda-inflected French to individual witnesses, and here I can only say that you must let your mind go, trust your instincts and your homework, and hope they deliver the goods. One of the three Hatzfelds won the Scott Moncrieff, another was a finalist, and I was ecstatic with relief.

Histoire means both “story” and “history” in French, and in Chamoiseau’s story of a slave’s flight into the unknown, he offers a cryptic history of the Caribbean, where plantation owners used their own languages as a weapon of control over their traumatized slaves, who then turned that weapon against the oppressor: plantation storytellers said more in their homemade Creoles than their listening masters could ever understand, taking care, as Chamoiseau says in his Creole Folktales, to speak in a way “that is opaque, devious—its significance broken up into a thousand sibylline fragments.” Which, if you think about it, is a fine definition of poetry. The mystique of the plantation slave Storyteller, sustaining the spirits of his flock with a lifeline to their vanished homelands, is the Creole soul of Chamoiseau’s writing, so willfully opaque, ludic, cruel, the voice of multitudes, a theme that empowers all his fiction and essays.

In this novel are words and references from the history, culture, and natural world of Martinique, as well as both creolized and arcane French, because Chamoiseau is a free-range writer. “My use of French,” he writes to his translators, “is all-encompassing.” French readers are more familiar with this background material than are English-speakers, however, so while the author does not want any Creole dimension of his work spoiled by the reductive ideal of “transparency,” some light must shine on these sibylline fragments for them to signify at all for the Anglophone audience. I tried to make any explanatory material unobtrusive, while moving this text into English with the least possible distortion.

The majority of the Martinican Creole and creolized French words remain intact in the translation, either easily understood in context, or clarified by me with a descriptive word or two, or paired with an English meaning: “djok-strong,” for example. For more complicated words or a short phrase, the English appears immediately next to the italicized original text. Some words, as well as almost all the deeper background references (customs, places, etc.), are marked with an asterisk and explained in my endnotes, all listed by the number of the page on which they appear, in case any readers prefer to check batches of endnotes in advance.

Here is a look at the creolized French in the novel’s opening sentence: “In slavery times in the sugar isles, once there was an old black man, a vieux-nègre, without misbehaves or gros-saut orneriness or showy ways.” In Martinican Creole, neg means both “man” and “people.” It is the default term for any Creole person of color. It also means: a black man, any mixed-blood person, a servant, a friend, and has many compound forms, such as neg-lakanpay, a country fellow, and gran-neg, a pretentious man or uppity youngster. The Creole vié-neg is not necessarily derogatory—vié means “old,” as well as “ugly,” “horrible,” “shoddy,” even “diabolical”but here simply means an “old man, who is black.” Gros-saut looks like “big-jump” in French, but the Creole gwo-so breaks down as follows: gwo means big (among other things), and so can mean a bucket, a hard tumble, a waterfall, and the kicking of a harnessed horse. The expression fè gwo so refers to that last meaning, and its figurative sense is thus “to kick, lash out at, be ornery.” So: the context suggests the interpretation.

Writing with both studied care and fond disrespect for words, Chamoiseau is not only free-range, but free-form. His syntax, lexicon, and punctuation (or lack thereof) can even be technically incorrect in French, but must be respected—in this disrespect—by the English. In this novel, language not only tells the story, it is the story, an enactment of the subversive action it describes, and as the slave old man moves into a disorienting but exhilarating new dimension, Chamoiseau’s parlance does too. As with poetry, the reader makes sense of the text, as an active audience for this storyteller. In the end, as Chamoiseau has said, créolisation is a matter of expressing a vision of the world, and my aim was to make that vision accessible to the English-speaking reader in its moving and mysterious glory. Regarding the prickly counterpoint of sound and sense, and in homage to the orality of the Creole he champions, Chamoiseau sums up his instructions to his translators with triumphant glee: “I sacrifice everything to the music of the words.”

In the service of Chamoiseau’s short tale, I felt like a spider endlessly prowling the Web. Dozens of books were read. Months of research and headaches produced the end notes and afterword essay on the author and his enigmatic mentor, Édouard Glissant. The challenge of translating this novel I could not face again, but living, lively language like this is rare and lovely, and it is irresistible. Any translator who has experienced real discouragement and travail will understand my happiness in saying that the translation went up for four prizes, and won three. I love this book.

4. You say the FAF takes its prize very seriously—and that you may even nominate someone from amongst those you have met over the years. Besides your nomination, why don’t you recommend for us a great (fiction or non-fiction) book you have reviewed or that has already won the FAF?

For non-fiction, here are two superb biographies that won the prize, huge books about two extraordinarily different men who crammed more into their lives than seems humanly possible:

Bonaparte: 1769-1802 by Patrice Gueniffey, translated by Steven Rendall (Harvard University Press)

Jean Cocteau: A Life by Claude Arnaud, translated by Lauren Elkin and Charlotte Mandell (Yale University Press)

And for history, anything translated by Arthur Goldhammer, five times winner of the FAF prize, the only translator I know whose publishers permit his editing (when sorely needed) and whose grateful contemporary authors welcome it.

In fiction, Lydia Davis’s translations of Flaubert’s Madame Bovary (Viking/Penguin Group) and Proust’s Swann’s Way (Viking Press) both won the prize. Of course.

5. Now it’s your turn to nominate our next Great Woman in Translation.

I nominate the poet and translator Jody Gladding, a finalist for the 2004 prize in fiction for Jean Giono’s The Serpent of Stars (Archipelago), and who won the prize in 2009, along with the author, translator, teacher, and horticulturist Elizabeth Deshays, for their translation of Pierre Michon’s Small Lives (Archipelago). Both books explore the deep bonds between the human soul and la France profonde, and the juries were unanimous in celebrating the extraordinary match between the French and the translations, so sensitively attuned to the rich yet delicate beauty of the authors’ impassioned voices.

Guest post: Contabilidade para freelancers

Sejam bem-vindos de volta a mais uma publicação convidada!

As coisas por aqui estão conturbadas neste fim de ano; por isso, as publicações estão bagunçadas. Mas aqui estamos nós com a última convidada do ano, a Paulinha Vianna, que criou o aplicativo de gerenciamento de projetos e contabilidade para tradutores, o 2Manager.

Bem-vinda, Paulinha!


Crédito: Austin DistelUnsplash

Quanto custa o seu tempo?

Quanto tempo você gasta na sua rotina de contabilidade? Sendo freelancer, sem uma equipe para fazer isso por você, você já parou para pensar no tempo que gasta para organizar suas finanças?

Atualmente, sempre que me procuram me pedindo alguma dica de finanças e eu começo a perguntar da rotina financeira, sempre recebo as seguintes respostas: eu tenho uma planilha do Excel (que mal preencho) ou faço controle no papel (bloquinho, post-it, desktop). E nunca, nunca mesmo, há planejamento financeiro no curto ou médio prazo. Trocando em miúdos, a pessoa não sabe se pode parcelar um computador novo, por exemplo, pelo simples fato de que não sabe corretamente o que tem para receber (apenas uma ideia aproximada, devido ao volume de trabalho).

Eu não sei vocês, mas essa falta de informação não serve para mim: eu preciso ter controle do meu dinheiro o tempo todo. Quanto, em dinheiro, estou fazendo no momento (mas ainda não cobrei), quanto estou para receber e, por fim, quanto já recebi e devo enviar ao contador para fazer a minha contabilidade. Mas não dá para perder tempo com essas informações, nem para produzi-las e coletá-las. Você, assim como eu, freelancer, sabe que nossa ferramenta mais valiosa é o TEMPO. E se gastamos nosso tempo nos organizando (ainda que de maneira eficaz), não produzimos – e consequentemente – não ganhamos dinheiro.

Recentemente, eu tive uma experiência com o meu programa de gestão financeira que, sinceramente, me valeu tudo o que sempre recomendo para as outras pessoas. Organização, disciplina e atenção ao financeiro, tanto quanto às minhas traduções.

Aconteceu de um cliente entrar em contato me pedindo para rever os valores que ele já tinha pagado, pois ele acreditava que estava me pagando em duplicidade. Claro, qualquer pessoa pode dizer que não é preciso muita disciplina para resolver isso, basta ir no bankline e tirar uma cópia do extrato. Sim e não. Se você faz isso, tem que se lembrar (e eu sou péssima em lembrar qualquer coisa) de quando o cliente te pagou ou então, como disse antes, perderá tempo fazendo essa checagem. E esse foi o grande “pulo do gato”! Eu entrei no meu controle financeiro e tinha exatas duas faturas pagas, uma vencendo e outra para o mês seguinte. Em 30 segundos, eu tinha toda a informação necessária, passei para o meu cliente e o problema estava resolvido. Agora ele sabe qual o valor que me deve e qual já tinha pagado (nenhum em duplicidade).

Ao retornar com a informação em 30 segundos (que, de qualquer outra forma, eu demoraria ao menos 1 hora), eu economizei meu tempo (continuando a me dedicar à tradução do dia), evitei erros (porque a informação ali estava correta) e evitei estresse (tanto para mim quanto para o meu cliente).

E se eu não demorei nada para coletar essas informações, menos ainda eu gasto para produzi-las. Para um controle eficiente, qualquer que seja o método, a disciplina é o único caminho. Então, sempre que chega um novo projeto, eu o lanço na ferramenta assim que recebo o aceite do cliente.

É fator calmante para mim, e para o meu nível de estresse, saber onde o dinheiro está. Assim, nos momentos de desespero, quando acho que estou “indo à falência”, eu abro a ferramenta e vejo todos os dados prontos, todos os valores. Isso me acalma mais que Rivotril. 😀

Por isso é tão importante o controle financeiro, ainda mais quando somos CEO, head de contabilidade, a moça do café e a faxineira da nossa empresa. Não podemos delegar essas tarefas, a não ser para nós mesmos. E numa rotina puxada como sei que a sua é, não dá para perder tempo com gestão ineficiente.

É muito importante, então, que você analise friamente o seu controle financeiro: ele atende a todas as suas necessidades, tanto na gestão de informação quanto na gestão do tempo? Porque se ele não atende a um desses requisitos, agora pode ser o momento ideal para você mudar e fazer diferente em 2020, agregando tempo ao seu dia a dia, para conseguir se dedicar ao que realmente importa: o seu negócio.

Eu, Caroline Alberoni, decidi mudar em 2020 e trocar o Excel por uma ferramenta de gerenciamento de projetos e contabilidade: o 2Manager, da Paulinha Vianna. A ferramenta já está instalada no computador, pronta com todos os meus clientes e informações necessárias para que, a partir de 1º de janeiro de 2020, eu possa começar a usá-la para valer! Bora ser mais controlado e organizado financeiramente comigo em 2020? Assine a minha newsletter e aproveite a oferta especial de fim de ano que enviarei na próxima segunda-feira.

Sobre a autora
WhatsApp Image 2019-12-08 at 20.06.21Paulinha Vianna é a criadora e fundadora do 2Manager – o app do freelancer. Uma ferramenta de gestão financeira personalizada para o seu negócio em que você tem o controle do dinheiro por toda a cadeia produtiva: desde a hora que o projeto chega até a retirada final dos lucros.