Category: Book publishing

Editing books in translation

Yesterday I gave a talk at the EAC-BC meeting about editing books in translation, and I was buoyed by the thought-provoking discussions that came out of the audience, which was packed with expertise. Here’s a short summary of my presentation.

Why translations?

Unlike a piece of visual art, which virtually anyone can see and appreciate, a book has an audience limited to those who understand the language in which it’s written. When you work on a translation, you’re bringing a work of art, a point of view, or a piece of knowledge to a much broader audience than it previously had—a pretty powerful idea, when you think about it. Canadian historian of translation Louis Kelly declared that “Western Europe owes its civilization to translators,” and although that statement may seem grandiose, the Protestant Reformation and the Renaissance wouldn’t have played out the way they did if the Bible and classical Greek and Latin texts hadn’t been translated into the vernacular.

On a more practical level, publishers like translations because, in a way, they mitigate a bit of the risk of cultural production. If you know that the source text has done well in its native territory and your target audience has a comparable culture, there’s a decent chance the translation may also do well. (On the flip side, publishers have to contend with the notion—whether it’s real or merely perceived—that the reading public is loath to buy translations.) Publishers also like translations because they’re often subsidized. Grants from the Canada Council for the Arts or from other funding bodies are available to offset the cost of producing translations for certain kinds of books (eligibility criteria vary depending on the type of program).

If you’re an editor, translations are a great way to cut your teeth: with the odd exception, they involve no structural editing, and most of the work is copy editing, with a bit of stylistic editing. You also get to work with translators, who, because they are language professionals like you, understand the role of the editor and often come into the working relationship with an eagerness to start a dialogue about the text. Many translators are also editors (in fact, I often like to think about stylistic editing as translating from English to English), and because both parties are, in a sense, working with what one translator called “borrowed words,” the relationship can be really collaborative and dynamic. You would normally be working with a translator who’s translating from the source language into his or her mother tongue, so, even if you don’t know the source language, there’s no language barrier to worry about.

Copyright and contracts

As the editor of a book in translation, you have to be aware of three different contracts:

  • the contract for the translation rights
  • the contract with the translator
  • the agreement with the funding body

The contract for the translation rights is usually between the publisher of the translation and the publisher of the original text, although occasionally it’s between the publisher of the translation and the author. An author has to authorize a translation before it can be published, and the translation rights have to be assigned to the publisher—this contract typically serves both of these functions. For an illustrated book, those rights may or may not include image rights. This contract may also specify an approval process for the translation, as well as the format of the copyright notice on the translation’s copyright page.

The contract with the translator defines the scope of the translator’s work—any tasks that fall beyond that scope (e.g., translating praise quotes for marketing copy) may mean the publisher has to pay extra—as well as project timelines. This contract will also specify how the translator will be credited. (Because a publisher will often try to downplay the fact that a translation is a translation, the translator’s name may not have to appear on the cover but would appear on the title and copyright pages.)

The agreement with the funding body, whether it’s the Canada Council or a foreign organization, such as the Goethe-Institut or China Book International or NORLA (Norwegian Literature Abroad), will usually include the exact wording of an acknowledgement clause, and possibly a logo, that must appear in the published translation. If you fail to include this clause, the publisher may lose its translation funding.

A publisher might not allow you to see these contracts directly, but you should know to ask for these specific pieces of information so that you can complete the project properly. Any tasks that these agreements don’t cover—for example, clearing image rights or handling text permissions—may fall to you as the book’s editor. The publisher may also ask you to approach well-known people to write a foreword or cover blurb for the book.

Working with a translated manuscript

When you receive the finished manuscript from the translator, the only structural work you’d be expected to do is a quick concordance check to make sure that all of the paragraphs in the original appear in the translation. Otherwise, you’re mostly copy editing, although you’ll want to offer stylistic suggestions when something in the translation doesn’t sound quite right.

You don’t have to know the source language to edit a translation, although, in my experience, having some experience with the source language can help you know what to look out for (and, as we’ll see later, can help you land work), including problems such as false cognates. Also pay attention to idioms that don’t work in the target language; you may have to suggest different idioms that convey the same concept. Prepositions are by far the most idiomatic part of speech, so if a sentence sounds a little off, check the prepositions to see if the appropriate ones have been used. When a translator is switching back and forth between languages, it’s really easy to use a preposition that works for the source but not for the target language. Finally, punctuation is treated differently in different languages, so be sure that the punctuation in the manuscript is appropriate to the target language.

As you would for any manuscript, keep an eye out for quoted passages that may require permission to reproduce. Text permissions in translations are an especially tricky issue, because they can be multilayered—for example, even if a passage in the source text is in the public domain, the translation of the passage in the target language may still be under copyright. Avoid what the Chicago Manual of Style calls “the sin of retranslation”—if the quote in the source text had been translated from the target language, the translator must track down the original quote rather than translating it anew.

Always ask the publisher for a copy of the source text. Not only do you need to do an initial concordance check, but you’ll want to be able to refer to the source if you run into passages in the translation that sound strange or awkward because of possible homonym confusion. Tools such as source language–target language dictionaries, and terminology databases like Termium can come in handy in those situations. (Of course, you’d never send a whole novel through Google Translate, but the tool can be useful for interpreting one or two problematic sentences as a starting point to a discussion with the translator.)

Other translation-related issues that you often hear about—including whether the translation should be literal or free, whether a translator should define unfamiliar terms with footnotes or glosses, how to approach culturally sensitive topics—are usually, if you’re working with an experienced professional translator, within the translator’s domain. You should absolutely be aware of these issues, since the translator may look to you for discussion or advice, but in many cases you won’t be expected to play too hands-on a role. With a less experienced editor, however, you may be called on to offer more input on these matters.

Finding work as an editor of translations

If you’re interested in editing books in translations, start, as you would for any kind of book editing, with a query letter to a publisher, but specify your interest in translations. (Of course, it helps to know someone on the inside, which is why it’s important to build relationships with publishers in other ways.) You can check the Canada Council website for a list of translation grants that have been awarded to find out which publishers in the country publish translations. Try also to build relationships with translators—such as members of the Literary Translators’ Association of Canada—because a translator who knows you and trusts your work may recommend you to his or her publisher.

If you know a second language, you can offer your services as a reader. Publishers return from the London Book Fair in the spring and the Frankfurt Book Fair in the fall with boxes of books in languages they may not know how to read; they’ll offer readers a fee to read and evaluate whether translations of these books might be good fits on their lists. If you identify a promising project and the publisher goes ahead with it, you’d be a natural choice to edit it.

Do a bit of research into funding programs for translations that are available outside of Canada. Many countries are eager to export their literature and have ministries of culture or associated organizations that subsidize foreign translations. If you approach a publisher right before a book fair with the pitch that you’re available as a reader, you’ve built connections with several literary translators, and you’re aware of a specific funding body that might subsidize the cost of a translation, that’s a pretty compelling package.

When evaluating books as a reader, consider the following:

Does it fit on the publisher’s list?

This point may seem obvious, but it can be tempting to recommend a book project even if it’s not a good fit just so that you’ll get to work on it. Doing so would only sabotage your credibility with the publisher.

How much localization does the work need?

Would the book need to be changed in any way to be comprehensible to the translation’s readership? Would the book benefit from a foreword?

How long will the translation be?

French texts are about 20% longer than English texts, and Spanish about 25% longer than English. if the original is short to begin with, will a translation be too slight to publish? Length is less of a concern for ebooks but is definitely a consideration for print books.

Are there image or text permissions to worry about?

Flag these for the publisher, because they may add to the schedule or to the budget, and they may affect how the publisher approaches the contract for translation rights.

For illustrated books, is there reverse type?

If the publisher of the translation hopes to use the same printer as the originating publisher, reverse type means added production costs: rather than replacing just the black plate, the printer would have to replace all four CMYK plates. Flag instances of reverse type so that the publisher is at least aware of them.

Further resources

If you’d like to learn more about the world of books in translation, I highly recommend Translators on Translating by Andrew Wilson and Why Translation Matters by Edith Grossman. You may also find resources on the websites of the Literary Translators’ Association of Canada, the Canadian Translators, Terminologists and Interpreters Council, the Society of Translators and Interpreters of British Columbia, and similar groups in other provinces.

Book review: Science in Print

After reviewing Darcy Cullen’s Editors, Scholars, and the Social Text, which offered an insightful introduction to the world of scholarly publishing in the humanities, I found myself wondering which principles and practices within that book also applied to publishing in the sciences. I was hopeful that Science in Print: Essays on the History of Science and the Culture of Print, edited by Rima D. Apple, Gregory J. Downey, and Stephen L. Vaughn (published by the University of Wisconsin Press), might shed some light on the issue.

In 2008 the Center for the History of Print and Digital Culture at the University of Wisconsin-Madison sponsored an international conference on the culture of print in science, technology, engineering, and medicine; nine of the conference sessions were chosen to be included in Science in Print, released earlier this fall. The essays include

  • Meghan Doherty’s piece on how William Faithorne’s The Art of Graveing and Etching, a manual on the engraver’s craft, reflected standards of accuracy that he also applied to engravings for the Royal Society, which in turn reinforced scientific rigour among Royal Society members;
  • Robin E. Rider’s look at the importance of typography in late-eighteenth-century and early-nineteenth-century mathematical textbooks;
  • Lynn K. Nyhart’s overview of a decades-long series of publications, all arising from a German expedition to sample plankton in the world’s oceans;
  • Bertrum H. MacDonald’s tribute to the Smithsonian Institution’s role in scientific publication and information interchange between Canadian and American scientists in the late 1800s;
  • Jennifer J. Connor’s semi-biographical piece on George M. Gould, who in the late nineteenth century edited several medical journals and advanced ideas of editorial autonomy within medical journal publishing;
  • Kate McDowell’s probe of how evolution was presented in children’s science books between 1892 and 1922;
  • Sally Gregory Kohlstedt’s look at how textbooks and teacher resource books approached the burgeoning interest in nature study in the early twentieth century;
  • Rima D. Apple’s investigation into the influence of various publications, particularly government dietary guidelines, on fostering the primacy of meat in the American diet;
  • Cheryl Knott’s comparison between the reaction to Stewart Udall’s environmental treatise, The Quiet Crisis, published in 1963, and the reception to the book’s twenty-fifth-anniversary edition, published in 1988.

Being a bit of a math and typography nerd, I found resonance in Robin Rider’s essay, in which she says,

The visual culture of mathematics, done well, offers “enormous advantages of seeing,” as Edward Tufte would say. Readers learn much from the way mathematics is presented in type. Good typography highlights and reinforces ideas; indifferent typography (or worse) obscures ideas and stymies the reader. (p. 38)

—particularly since that last sentence applies just as well to non-mathematical texts.

Although not addressed as a specific topic in the book, the issue of the motivation behind academic publishing does rear its head in more than one essay. Both Lynn Nyhart and Jennifer Connor remark that the contributors to scientific and medical journals are generally not paid for their contributions. Writing about medical editor George M. Gould, Connor says,

After [publisher] William Wood of New York refused him permission that same year to reprint articles from its medical journals in his Year-Book—a digest of material that reached, according to Gould, thousands of readers—he distributed a circular about the relations between the medical profession and “lay publishing firms of medical journals.” Publishers do not pay physicians for their contributions, he noted, although they presumably profit from them; and, in this case, no other publisher—even those who do pay contributors—had objected to reprinting extracts. But above all, this publisher’s decision was wrong because it prevented the dissemination of medical knowledge. (p. 116)

Lynn Nyhart argues that publishing itself motivated scientific progress:

Maintaining the commitment to publish, I would suggest, was in fact what made these projects successful and important as science. (Conversely, the lack of a strong commitment to publishing following many voyages often resulted in the collected specimens languishing in boxes for years without ever being analyzed.) (p. 67)

Science in Print also looks beyond the academic realm at trade and popular science publishing, and the closing chapter by Cheryl Knott makes reference to Priscilla Coit Murphy’s book What a Book Can Do: The Publication and Reception of Silent Spring, saying

According to Murphy, it is the book (as opposed to the author) that launches social and political movements as it takes on a life of its own in ways the author and publisher could not have foreseen. (p. 201)

Knott reinforces this concept by showing how the evolution of the environmental movement and a changing political climate affected the success of The Quiet Crisis, an environmental book by former U.S. Secretary of the Interior Stewart Udall. It became a best-seller after it was first published in 1963 but saw a tepid reception when it was expanded, updated, and reissued in 1988. Knott discovered that readers often cite and recommend the original edition, even if they’d clearly read the newer one. She notes, “Such mix-ups indicate that many readers do not make the careful distinctions between editions that collectors, bibliographers, and librarians make.” (p. 217) In my experience, although publishers are aware of this reality, they are sometimes in denial about it as they try to find new ways of repackaging and marketing existing content. How do you capitalize on the cachet of a successful original edition while offering readers the new information they need?

***

Although Science in Print did offer me some new perspectives and gave historical context to the development of scientific publishing, particular in North America, I have to say that didn’t enjoy the experience of reading the book as much as I would have wanted, for a variety of reasons. I’ve been struggling for weeks to write a cohesive review of this book (and some may remark that I’ve failed), likely because I found that Science in Print itself lacks cohesion. I’m no stranger to reading and reviewing anthologies; despite being an assembly of contributions from different authors, they must still have an internal rhythm and logic—like a good album put together from a collection of singles. Science in Print takes too much of a scattergun approach, attempting to present numerous topics ostensibly connecting science and print culture that are really quite disparate. Perhaps a more effective approach would have been to select more of the conference sessions to publish but to group them by topic or genre and issue each of these as a separate volume, which would have allowed for more meaningful comparisons among contributors’ viewpoints.

And although I understand that scholarly presses generally don’t do much substantive editing, this is once instance in which a manuscript really could have benefited from a skilled stylistic editor’s hand. Take, for instance, this opening to one of the essays:

Educators in the early twentieth century faced the dilemma of how to build the skills of teachers so that they could teach directly from nature in a new progressive pedagogy emerging in the late nineteenth century known as nature study. (p. 156)

Most stylistic editors would be able to offer at least a couple of suggestions to make that sentence more engaging and approachable while conveying exactly the same information. (I should say that I don’t mean to pick on this one contributor—whose content was otherwise pretty interesting—I just wanted to offer an example.)

Finally, one aspect of the book that may have contributed to my discomfort while reading is the design (ironic, given Robin Rider’s astute analysis of the importance of good typography): the pages are dense, the type is small, and the lines are long. Robert Bringhurst, in The Elements of Typographic Style, writes, “Anything from 45 to 75 characters is widely regarded as a satisfactory length of line for a single-column page set in a serifed text face in a text size… A line that averages more than 75 or 80 characters is likely to be too long for continuous reading.” (v. 2.4, pp. 26–27) Science in Print definitely falls into the latter category. I would suggest that readers try the ebook and reflow the text to a comfortable line length, but it appears that the only available ebook version is a fixed-layout PDF. I haven’t read any other books published by University of Wisconsin Press, but if this book is based on a standard design template, the press may benefit from revisiting that template and revising it for readability.

Salute to a fallen Canadian cultural institution

I was going to make this week’s post a self-indulgent look back at the past year on my bloggiversary (as the kids call it), but given the sad news that D&M Publishers has filed for creditor protection, I wanted to say a few words about the company—and the people—that made my years in book publishing so rewarding.

I started at D&M during my Master of Publishing degree as a lowly intern (though pretty much everyone there did their best not to make me feel lowly at all), doing all manner of random tasks, from sending out review copies and archiving editorial material to staffing the front desk while the receptionist was away. Getting to spend time in several departments gave me a solid appreciation for the effort everyone was making. It really was, as Brenda Feist, sales and marketing assistant at the time, said, “amazing to see how many people it takes to make a book happen.”

My main tasks, though, were editorial—proofing inputting, proofreading books and marketing materials, and a bit of indexing. I learned from the best: Nancy Flight and Lucy Kenward patiently showed me the ropes, insisting on the highest standards and gently but firmly nudging me to improve myself. From Managing Editor Susan Rana I learned the best practices in book production as I watched her shepherd project after project through multiple hands and to tight deadlines. The company’s art department was also an inspiration: headed by Peter Cocking, D&M’s team of designers produced gorgeous books that routinely swept the Alcuin Awards.

During my internship, I embarked on a project to produce an informational handbook for authors to guide them through the editorial process, explaining the steps and the people involved in transforming a manuscript into a finished book. Little did I know that working on the handbook would sow the seeds of my interest in editorial efficiencies and systems. Later I would carve a niche role within the company of improving documentation and communication with authors and freelancers and developing quality-control methods to continue the company’s tradition of high editorial standards.

D&M offered me a contract to stay on once my internship was over, and I gladly accepted. There I was exposed to brilliant, inspiring authors and to books on a wide-ranging array of topics, from Aboriginal art to Vancouver architecture, from mouth-watering cookbooks to eye-opening biographies of influential Canadians, from history to current affairs and public policy, from environment to sport. I wish I’d retained more of what I read over those years.

To Scott McIntyre, thank you for all you have done. Thank you for trusting me with some of your best authors, thank you for recommending me to your friends and colleagues once I decided to strike out on my own, and thank you for giving me the opportunity to learn and develop alongside some of the best editors in the country. I can only imagine how heartbreaking this development must be—perhaps it feels like the loss of a child or the loss of a legacy. But please know that your fervent passion for and enormous contributions to Canadian culture endure—in the fine books that you’ve published, in the authors you’ve fostered and encouraged, in the people who’ve been able to learn from you by working for you.

What I value most from my time at D&M are the relationships I’ve forged with some of the smartest, funniest, hardest-working people I’ve ever met. To my good friends at D&M—who are too many to name here—please stay in touch. Now that I can no longer come into the office for the occasional visit, I’ll try to do my part and be better at reaching out in other ways.

Sorry; I guess this post did end up being self-indulgent after all. I didn’t think I would be as emotional about this turn of events as I am. I feel deeply for all of D&M’s employees and authors, and I’m here to offer my help wherever and whenever it’s needed.

Look out—the market’s about to be flooded by some amazingly talented people.

Ebooks

Lara Smith gave a captivating and hugely informative presentation about ebooks at Wednesday’s EAC-BC meeting. Having gone to Greg Ioannou’s conference talk about e-publishing, I wondered if there’d be a lot of overlap in the content of the two talks. There wasn’t—and after the meeting BC Branch Chair Peter Moskos suggested to me that Lara probably had enough material to fill a full seminar.

Ebooks are often thought to be electronic versions of print books, Lara began, but many titles today are just born digital. Ebooks come in two main formats: PDF and EPUB. The ebook PDFs aren’t just your regular PDFs—they’re Universal PDFs, which are optimized for screen viewing. Chapters are bookmarked, the table of contents is linked, URLs are live, and the files include some metadata.

In the early days of ebooks, there were many different ebook formats; every e-reader developer wanted to create a device with a proprietary format, which led to a very fractured market. The International Digital Publishing Forum set out a standard known as EPUB—a set of rules that everyone could follow to build an ebook. All devices now have the capacity to read EPUB files. We’re not sure what the future will be for EPUB, though, because device manufacturers still like to add on proprietary bells and whistles to their EPUB files.

EPUBs can have fixed layouts or be flowable. Fixed-layout EPUBs look a bit like PDFs, but they have a lot more capability behind the scenes (e.g., accessibility features like text to speech). They’re much more complicated to create. EPUBs are good for visual books, such as coffee-table books or cookbooks, but they’re really meant to be read on a tablet device. Lara demonstrated how impractical it is to read a fixed-layout EPUB on a smartphone.

By contrast, flowable EPUBs can be read on a phone—not to mention e-readers and browsers—since the type can be enlarged as needed. Flowable EPUBs make up the bulk of the ebooks out there.

An EPUB, Lara explained, is really just a ZIP file. Change the epub extension to zip, and you can decompress the folder to see what’s inside. There may be a folder for images, and the text is broken up into chapters, each an HTML file. There’s a style sheet that controls how the tagged text looks to the human reader. She’s found the best strategy to ensure that the ebook looks good on all devices is to keep styling to a minimum. “We’re not trying to replicate the print book,” she said. “We really have to reconceptulaize it. We can’t control type in the same way.”

Lara works mostly with books that are destined for both print and digital, so she exports from InDesign. But she notes that you can build an EPUB from scratch in a text editor, and there’s conversion software that will transform Word files into EPUBs (although they don’t look very good). The simpler your original files, she said, the better it will look. (For example, never justify your text; on many devices, the text will look hideous and gappy.)

When publishers convert books to EPUBs, they have the option of using a conversion service, which is inexpensive and may be appropriate for converting large numbers of files (e.g., the publisher’s backlist), but the results can look pretty rough. Another option is in-house conversion, which allows for more control over quality, style, and timelines but requires an investment into a dedicated individual or team of people who must learn how to use the software and prepare the files for the market. Editors working with individual authors to create single ebooks may be able to dedicate more resources to fine-tune the EPUBs themselves to specific devices and take full advantage of enhancements like audio and video.

Lara also mentioned vendor conversion tools, including iBooks Author, Kindle Direct Publishing, and Kobo Writing Life, which are free tools to use but restrict you to selling within those particular streams, and DIY options (what she referred to as “device-agnostic options”), such as Smashwords, PressBooks by WordPress, and Vook, which charge for creating the ebooks, whether through an upfront fee or through royalties. She noted that all of these options have a learning curve and a real cost.

Once you’ve got your ebook made, you then have to sell it. How are people going to find it? The answer is metadata—information attached to your book including title, author, publisher, ISBN, price, description, author bio, reviews, etc.—that will populate distributors’ and retailers’ databases. Metadata is key to discoverability.

Lara then moved on to the contentious issue of digital rights management (DRM), which puts a lock on EPUBs file and prevents copying, editing, and reselling but also limits legitimate sharing of books and device switching. It pits readers’ freedoms against authors’ and publishers’ right to profit. The debate seems to be heading in two directions: digital media may be licensed to readers (where they can read but don’t actually own the book), or publishers may decide not to use DRM at all. (O’Reilly Media, in fact, has declared that it won’t be using DRM on any of its books.)

Another issue facing publishers is that EPUBs have the capability to incorporate a variety of assistive technologies, such as text to speech, alternative text, phonetic text, media overlays, dyslexic reading aids, conversion to braille, etc., and international accessibility organizations are pushing publishers to include all of these features. Of course, for the publisher, doing so means a lot more investment into editorial and production resources.

Lara was careful to note the distinction between apps and ebooks. Apps are self-contained applications, and they can be interactive and include all sorts of multimedia features. There are book apps—kids’ books work really well as apps, because they don’t have a lot of content but can support a lot of interactivity. Apps take more development than an ebook, and you need to involve a programmer.

So what are the editorial concerns surrounding e-publishing? First, the publisher must have the digital rights—including for the images that are to appear in the book. Next, the publisher should look at the content and figure out the best way to present the book (fixed or flowable) and decide whether to add enhancements.

Challenges for ebook publishers are elements like sidebars, which you want to place at section or chapter breaks so that they don’t interrupt the flow of the text. Lara noted that ebooks are read in a linear way; it becomes tedious to have to skip over what could turn into pages of sidebar content to get back to the main text, especially if you’re reading on a small screen. Footnotes are also a problem, because the foot of a page is no longer well defined. Indexes are similarly challenging. (See my summary of Jan Wright’s discussion of ebook indexes from this past spring’s ISC conference.)

On the flip side are the many advantages that ebooks offer. For example, endnotes can be linked, as can in-text references. Photo sections can go anywhere within the book, not necessarily just between printed signatures. You can make URLs in the book (and the references, especially) live, and you can add audio or video enhancements. Finally, there are no page limits, and you can really play around with the concept of what a book is. Lara warns, however, that the more fun stuff you put in, the greater the risk that something will break, and broken links or videos, for example, can frustrate readers.

Lara’s talk was phenomenal. I learned a huge amount, though I will probably eventually have to resign myself to the fact that she knows more about e-publishing than I ever will.

Upcoming EAC-BC meeting on ebooks

My good friend Lara Smith, one of the most generous, helpful people I know, will be giving a talk at the upcoming EAC-BC meeting about ebook formats, digital production workflows, and what editors need to know about ebook conversion. Lara, the print and digital production coordinator at D&M, is the perfect person to give this presentation not only because she sits at the intersection between p- and ebooks but also because she’s worked in house as a proofreader and indexer and acutely understands editorial concerns in the ebook production process. (As an aside, Lara and her partner, Anita, are responsible for the best chili oil I’ve ever tasted.)

Join us at the YWCA on Hornby on Wednesday, October 17, for Lara’s talk and the chance to win a free EAC-BC professional development seminar (as well as the books I’ve reviewed on this site since last month’s meeting). Refreshments and mingling start at 7 pm, and the talk begins at 7:30 pm.

Writing Rights—personal perspectives

In his Writing Rights session, David Scott Hamilton made an incredibly important point when he described asking for a royalty in his contract negotiations with Anvil. The publisher showed him the numbers and said, *We just can’t do it.”

That conversation really underscored that building a productive publisher–translator relationship is a two-way street—mutual respect is key. The subsequent discussions during the workshop about concerns over relinquishing control by assigning copyright and ways to negotiate the best contract might imply an adversarial relationship, but having worked at a publishing house, let me offer this perspective:  publishers, in the vast majority of cases, aren’t out to screw authors over, just as authors who leave a small press after achieving some success to work with a bigger company aren’t trying to screw over their former publishers. Publishing is a business—one in which, especially in the literary world, margins are simply razor thin. Of course I’m by no means suggesting that artists shouldn’t try to negotiate a favourable contract—on the contrary. However, I think it’s important to highlight the fact that most publishers, particularly small literary presses, aren’t prolific money-making enterprises. Most are doing the best they can with what they have, and I think a more productive relationship would ultimately result if writers and translators approached their negotiations with that understanding in mind. It’s not so much that publishers want to hand artists the short end of the stick but that, in Canadian publishing, both ends of the stick can end up pretty short.

That said, I did very much appreciate and admire Martha Rans’s fervent advocacy on behalf of the artistic community. For artists whose work is exploited, having support like the Artists’ Legal Outreach can be invaluable.

When I attended Chang Han’s intellectual property session at Freelance Camp, I was left with a niggling question. Sure, you’re theoretically protected by a framework of copyright laws, but if someone infringes, not only do you have to discover the infringement, but you also have to be prepared to pursue legal action in the infringer’s jurisdiction. Rans’s comment about the difficulty of enforcement, particularly across borders, filled in the critical missing piece in my understanding.

Carolyn Swayze’s session consisted mainly of anecdotes from her work as an agent, and they were interesting—I didn’t know much about literary scouts before her talk—but the outline of the workshop implied she’d be discussing the Literary Translators’ Association of Canada’s model contract, which she didn’t address. I would have liked to see the anatomy of a translation contract to discover how much it jibed with my own experiences working with translators for a publisher. Luckily, it appears that the comprehensive LTAC booklet accompanying the workshop has all of that information and more—including foreign funding sources for translations.

Overall, Writing Rights was a very informative workshop, and I got to meet some terrific people. I’m amazed that it was free—another big thank-you to LTAC, the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Department of Canadian Heritage for sponsoring the event. If I could have made one suggestion, it would have been to make the day’s program available on the Word on the Street website prior to the workshop. I could find very little information about it, even the morning of, and I didn’t know what kinds of speakers and sessions would be featured until I arrived; knowing the workshop structure would have allowed for better planning on my part.

Writing Rights, Session 3—Carolyn Swayze on negotiating the best possible contract

Carolyn Swayze is the president of Carolyn Swayze Literary Agency, where she represents authors of literary fiction and nonfiction for adults and children. She spoke at the Writing Rights workshop about contracts.

As an agent, she works with authors to decide who will handle the rights in translation. Often publishers with large rights departments believe they are the best to handle them, but Swayze finds that they often don’t do anything with those rights. As a result, she’ll try to sell Canadian English rights only, sometimes North American English, and occasionally North American French and English rights so that the author can retrain translation rights to sell elsewhere. A problem Swayze encounters is that publishers in France usually insist on buying World French rights, whereas she’d like to retain North American French rights to sell separately.

Swayze works with a network of co-agents and literary scouts around the world to sell translation rights. After a while, “You get to know what kinds of books do well in different markets,” she said. Co-agents range from individuals to big international agencies, whereas scouts are paid by publishers, film companies, etc., to seek out appropriate projects for their clients. Scouts play an important role; with the number of books out in the marketplace, “it’s impossible to bring a book to enough people” for their consideration, said Swayze.

Echoing David Scott Hamilton, Swayze emphasized the importance of developing relationships. Seek out publishers and co-agents in countries in which your language of choice is spoken, she advised, and ask scouts for their client list. (On the topic of how to find scouts, Swayze was a bit coy: “Do a little research. There’s all sorts of online material.”) Promote yourself so that people know you exist. Once you’ve established some credibility, you can start negotiating for a bigger cut in your contracts.

Translators often complain about having difficulty getting a royalty split, but Swayze has seen it happen; she even told us of a translator in Italy who managed to secure a split of 50%. The other side of that coin are those who are essentially paid a fee for service, and some translators don’t even get billing on the front cover. If you have an agent, he or she will usually negotiate the contract on your behalf. How do you find a good agent? Swayze suggests researching online and carefully reading an agency’s submission requirements to make sure that you’re a good fit. Also, read the acknowledgements in books in your genre; authors will often thank their agents, and you can get some names that way. If you write nonfiction, prepare a good proposal for an agent’s consideration; for fiction, especially a debut work, you may have to complete it before an agent will look at it.

Swayze is realistic with her advice, warning that if you secure one contract but don’t earn out your advance, it becomes much harder to sell another book.

Writing Rights, Session 2—Martha Rans on copyright law

Martha Rans is a copyright lawyer who co-founded the Artists’ Legal Outreach. The ALO runs a legal clinic at which artists and arts organizations can, by donation, have a thirty-minute consultation with a lawyer or law student about a problem related to their artistic discipline, including issues relating to contracts and copyright. Rans spoke to Writing Rights participants about copyright issues, particularly as they relate to writing and translation.

Copyright exists so that creators can protect their intellectual property and allow them to earn money from their work, which encourages creative production. It’s an important value for artists, and most artists’ organizations are vocal in advocating for copyright. Of course, since, as Rans said, “everything about who we are as people is connected to culture and creativity,” we have to strike a balance between artists’ ability to protect their work and users’ ability to gain access to that work; we’ve built into the copyright structure the concept of the public domain.

What’s copyrightable? Books, songs, images, plays, software—forms of creative expression. Copyright doesn’t cover a compilation of facts or titles or utilitarian goods. Concepts and ideas are not covered by copyright; it’s the expression of those ideas that are covered. Copyright covers original work, which means that it must be original to the creator. For example, two people could take photos that happen to look identical, but both images are protected by copyright. Copyright takes effect as soon as you’ve created your work and fixed it in a tangible (including digital) form, and you don’t have to register your copyright. However, if you’re collaborating with other people and it may become necessary for you to clearly establish when you created a work, you might want to register it. Most importantly make sure your name is associated with your work. Including the phrase “All rights reserved” with your copyright notice means that your permission is needed for any use involving your work.

Copyright lasts for a term of death plus fifty years in Canada (now true for photographs, too). In the U.S. and E.U., the term is death plus seventy years; Canada’s shorter term allows our homegrown artists more freedom to explore. Rans said that the issue is not whether you can play around with a work under copyright but, once you’ve done that, whether you can then sell it for commercial purposes. What’s considered commercial? The line isn’t always clearly defined—for example, in cases where you give content away online but charge for advertising on your website or where the content is used by a non-profit or educational institution.

Associated with copyright are moral rights, which includes paternity (the right of attribution) and integrity (the right to prevent your work from being mutilated, distorted, or modified in a way that damages your reputation). Homages are culturally important—they’re genuine creative expressions in their own right—but, Rans advised, put yourself in the shoes of the artist you’re imitating. Often artists care less about the money and more about how their work is being used. Rans also noted that the U.S. doesn’t include moral rights in its copyright act.

If you own copyright to a work, you can assign it, or you can license it. When you assign your copyright, as a writer usually does with a publisher, you retain very little other than moral rights—you essentially sell your ability to control it. Licensing allows others to use your work under specific conditions and often within a specific time frame. Rans stressed that contract negotiation is hugely important, since you’re likely giving up a huge amount of control when you assign your rights. “You need to get independent legal advice when entering into an agreement with a publisher,” she advised, and the ALO clinic offers artists the opportunity to do that.

So what constitutes infringement? Again, there’s no bright-line test. The criterion of “substantial similarity” can be subjective, and something that is infringement to one person may not be infringement to another. If you find yourself accused of infringement, it doesn’t mean that you’ve infringed—but do be prepared to answer the accusation. Rans warns that if you happen to find something you’d like to use—like archival material or old photographs—it’s your obligation to search for the original copyright owner. On the flip side, if you discover your copyright has been infringed, you have to sue the infringer in his or her jurisdiction—which can be tricky for artists of limited means. “It’s important to understand that when you upload something to the Internet, you’re giving up a good deal of control.”

Built into the Copyright Act are exceptions that allow works under copyright to be used in some situations. The most important exception is fair dealing, where works can be used for research, private study, news reporting, and criticism. Bill C-11 recently added three purposes to fair dealing: education, parody, and satire. The education provision is a very contested area at the moment, as it changes the game for educational publishing. (As an aside, Bill C-11 also makes it illegal to circumvent digital rights management.)

Artists hoping to make their work more available can turn to Creative Commons, which is not an alternative to copyright but a licensing framework that is part of copyright. Creators can choose licensing, for example, that allows others to modify their work but requires attribution or that allows others to redistribute their work freely but requires that it remain unchanged.

If you’d like to learn more about Creative Commons, Rans will be a panellist at a Creative Commons Salon on Monday, October 15, from 7pm to 9pm. Admission is free, but you do have to sign up.

Writing Rights, Session 1—David Scott Hamilton on getting your literary translation published

David Scott Hamilton led the first session of the Writing Rights workshop, with the support of translator Annie Bourret. Hamilton was shortlisted for the Governor General’s Award for Translation in 2011 for Exit, translated from Nelly Arcan’s Paradis, clef en main. In his interactive session he told us about the journey that began with a meeting with Anvil Press’s Brian Kaufman at the Word on the Street festival in 2009 and has come full circle three years later with this workshop, put on as part of Word on the Street 2012. His current project is translating the Governor General’s Award–winning Kolia by Perrine Leblanc for House of Anansi Press.

A quick poll of the room revealed that roughly half of the participants were translators, working in languages including Turkish, German, Mandarin, Bulgarian, French, Farsi, Spanish, and many others. The other half were writers, illustrators, or editors.

Hamilton launched the session by asking this question: What is the most important skill a literary translator must have? These were some of the audience’s responses:

  • cultural knowledge
  • an understanding of the target audience
  • a knowledge of how to get beyond the words to the ideas
  • a knowledge of where to access resources
  • a creative imagination
  • excellent writing skills in the target language
  • an understanding of translation methodology
  • passion about the work
  • critical thinking

According to Hamilton, however, a literary translator’s most important skill is the ability to build relationships. “Building a relationship with a publisher is crucial to get started, to get your foot in the door,” he said. He described how he approached Brian Kaufman at Anvil Press’s Word on the Street tent in 2009 and struck up a conversation. A few months later, he read Nelly Arcan’s Paradis, clef en main and knew it was a book he wanted to translate; it was the rapport he’d established with Kaufman that allowed him to make it happen. He prepared a sample translation of about 5,000 words and proposed the book to Anvil.

The next steps in the process were for Anvil to acquire the translation rights from the French publisher and to secure funding for the translation. The only way to get money for literary translation in Canada, explained Hamilton, is through a grant from the Canada Council. To be eligible for a grant, a translator must be a Canadian citizen or permanent resident and satisfy at least one of the following criteria:

  • be a recognized professional translator with a degree in translation,
  • have had at least one literary translation published by a recognized publisher, or
  • be a professional writer.

For Exit, which was Hamilton’s first literary translation, he qualified only under the third criterion, which is why, he emphasized, it’s so important to write as much as you can and to get your work out there. “Build a portfolio,” said Annie Bourret, “even if it starts with writing for your community newspaper.” All of this will go on your CV, which the publisher will need to apply for the Canada Council grant.

The publisher and the work must also satisfy certain eligibility requirements, which are detailed on the Canada Council site. For example, the grant must be secured before translation begins, and the work must be translated into French, English, or an Aboriginal language for publication in Canada. Fiction titles are eligible for $0.18 per word of the source text, to a maximum of $25,000.

After Anvil secured the translation rights, the translation contract was negotiated. “Go into that contract negotiation informed,” advised Hamilton. He also noted that “a literary agent won’t even look at you if you don’t have a track record.” In his contract with Anvil, he received no royalties. Brian Kaufman showed him the numbers and explained that it just couldn’t be done.

The contract also set out the delivery date for the manuscript, and Hamilton stressed the importance of building trust through professionalism: meet your deadlines and “do damn good work.” He adds, “The idea of work–life balance? Forget it! What works for me is work–life integration.” And be prepared for the fact that your responsibilities don’t end when you submit the manuscript; the translator still has to be involved with copy editing and proofreading, not to mention promotion.

How important is the author–translator relationship? Hamilton contends—and somewhat controversially, he admits—that the author’s intention is wholly in the text. A literary translator’s job is to determine what that intention was. Nelly Arcan had committed suicide before her original book had even been published, so the author–translator relationship for that project didn’t exist. For his current project, the translation of Kolia, Hamilton travelled to Quebec to meet with Perrine Leblanc, and he got to know her but never asked her about her book. He likened her original work to a musical score and his role as that of a musician. “I am to interpret her score.” Critical interpretation and creative writing skills are crucial for literary translation, he said. He described the act of translating fiction as being 25% translation, 75% writing, and he noted the importance of listening to the language as you read the text in the source language. “You’re not translating words,” he said. “You’re translating cultural histories and the resonance of the language.”

Hamilton closed off the session by letting the workshop participants know about some additional funding available to publishers. Canada Council offers supplementary grants for

  • travel assistance (so that the translator can meet with the original author)
  • editing assistance,
  • promotional assistance, and
  • reading fees (for the initial reader’s report).

Also, the Public Lending Right Commission offers creators compensation for their works that are available at public libraries, but you have to register. Annie Bourret noted that it’s not unusual for some writers to make more in public lending right payments than in royalties.

Book review: The Publishing Business

Until the last couple of decades, book publishing was a trade in which you learned on the job, under the guidance of mentors within the industry. In Canada, formal training in publishing didn’t really begin until the Banff Publishing Workshop in 1981, but today publishing programs are offered at a number of institutions. When I pursued my Master of Publishing degree at SFU, our class learned from material that our instructors produced themselves or existing trade books about various facets of publishing. What we didn’t have at the time was a textbook specifically for students looking to begin a career in book publishing. Today’s students are more fortunate, as they can now read The Publishing Business: From p-books to e-books by Kelvin Smith (published by Ava Academia).

The Publishing Business is the first book I’ve seen that takes a pedagogical approach to book publishing. It’s comprehensive, giving students a generalist’s overview to the industry and the publishing process, from acquisition and editing to design and production to sales and marketing. Far from considering each of these areas in isolation, the book emphasizes their interdependence, which is one of its many strengths. Another is that it gives attention not only to trade publishing but also to educational and scholarly publishing. Each chapter features discussion questions and illuminating sidebars and ends with a case study relevant to the chapter topic, drawing stark connections between the theory explained in the text and its practice at real organizations within the book chain. Throughout the text the foundational concepts of high standards, attention to detail, and respect for fellow professionals recur.

This book is a timely addition to literature about publishing. Taking into account the enormous changes that the industry has seen in the past decade, the book looks closely at not only printed books but also ebooks, digital workflows, and metadata in marketing. The introduction attempts to prepare readers for an exciting but also potentially tumultuous ride:

The effects of the digital revolution are creating major advances in ways that affect everyone in publishing, whether they are writers, agents, editors, designers, marketers, booksellers, journalists, librarians or researchers. Therefore, you need to be prepared for change. You need flexibility and imagination, willingness and adaptability if you are to prosper in the publishing future. You also need to understand the context in which publishing has developed and from which it must move forward into a future that will continue to be subject to technological, economic, social and political developments. (p. 6)

This context the introduction mentions is provided by a brief, enlightening history of publishing—from the development of movable type to the effects of copyright and the history of censorship and freedom of speech. The book follows the evolution of publishing to its present state, with the domination of major global players, the growing prominence of the Kindle and other e-readers, and recent developments in print-on-demand technologies.

Because The Publishing Business attempts broad coverage of book publishing, it doesn’t tackle any one topic in depth; however, it is far from superficial, addressing such issues as authors’ moral rights, the evolving landscape of territorial rights for ebooks, pricing pressures, the changing role of literary agents, children’s ebooks and ebook comics, the rise of self-publishing (and developments like Kirkus Indie), the renaissance of short forms of writing in ebooks, and the effect of digital rights management on a publisher’s bottom line. One appealing aspect of the book is that it discusses publishing practices in both the U.K. and the U.S., touching on other countries as well. The international flavour of the text will help students understand how to relate to foreign publishers, especially when discussing rights sales. It also highlights how remarkably similar publishing is the world over, thus reinforcing that the industry has, in a lot of respects, really nailed down a series of best practices, particularly for print books.

Some of these best practices are offered up in very tangible, practical ways, with sample profit-and-loss calculations and a sample author contract. Smith writes,

Editors don’t need to be legal experts, but they do need to understand the importance of having a clear, well-constructed contract that covers the agreement that they are making with an author. And they need to be able to explain this clearly to the author, so that the editor–author relationship develops in an atmosphere of trust. (p. 102)

And for editors who fear that self-publishing and the prevalence and acceptance of netspeak have rendered them irrelevant, Smith reassuringly says,

Readers may excuse some spelling and grammar mistakes on e-mails and tweets, but they don’t expect them in a book or an e-book. Copy-editing and proofreading remain a fundamental part of publishing in the digital age. (p. 134)

The book devotes a chapter to the editorial process, another to design and production, and a third to sales, marketing, and distribution. The importance of marketing is premised on the notion that “even the most beautifully written, designed and produced publication has not fulfilled its role if it does not reach its intended audience.” (p. 166) Among a publisher’s many sales and marketing challenges are retailers’ demand for deep discounts and growing rates of returns. Regarding ebook pricing, Smith writes,

Pricing of e-books… has been a major issue from the beginning. It soon became clear that readers of e-books were not willing to spend as much on an e-book as they were on a p-book… Having already bought an e-book reading device, consumers wanted cheaper books, recognizing that publishers were saving on printing, warehousing and fulfilment costs. What they didn’t recognize, and what publishers were slow to articulate, is that publishers are not just printers and distributors; they fulfil many other functions that continue to cost money in the digital age: most notably the development of authors and their projects, packaging and brand, marketing and promotion, and long-term customer relationships. (p. 159)

Ultimately, the book concludes, a career in publishing is driven by more than making money from making books:

Publishers are a vital part of society. They are often among the first to speak out for human rights and social justice, to insist that information is not suppressed and that a wide variety of opinion is heard. This responsibility is one that remains important in a  world affected by political and social upheaval, climate change and ecological crisis. It is vital that publishers continue and enhance this role, while balancing the tension that sometimes exists between protecting human rights and preserving the right to freedom of expression.” (p. 189)

The Publishing Business is an excellent reference and will offer students a strong introduction to the opportunities and challenges within the current state of the industry. I certainly wish I could have read it before I started my MPub degree, if for no other reason than to get up to speed on the terminology. Because digital publishing is really just finding its legs and is changing quickly, however, this book may need to be revised within a year to remain relevant. Further, because it focuses largely on practices within the U.K. and U.S., publishing students in other English-speaking territories, including Canada and Australia and New Zealand, should supplement this text with material specific to their own countries, to better understand how such additional factors as colonial influences and American cultural hegemony may have shaped those smaller publishing industries.

My only real quibble with The Publishing Business has to do with the physical book itself. Although it’s printed in full colour on what feels like a sturdy stock, after only two days in my tote bag the spine has begun delaminating, and there is evidence of ink transfer and scuffing in the book’s interior. I’ve also had a hard time not leaving smudgy fingerprints all over the pages printed in reverse type. I can’t help wondering how well this book would hold up after a semester’s use in a student’s backpack.

That minor complaint is, of course, not enough to stop me from recommending this book. The Publishing Business is the first in Ava Academia’s Creative Careers series, and given its practical, comprehensive approach and clear, informative content, I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for the series’ future titles.