[Translation] Translation request for Saskia - urgent

Alison Wall alison.wall at gmail.com
Mon Jun 29 14:27:49 PDT 2009


Hi Saskia,

We are coming close to the publication deadline for the souvenir book.  I
will need the attached text translated before the end of the weekend.  The
text is paragraphs that act as captions for a photo essay.

The good news is we should get a bit of a rest after that....until it starts
again!

Alison
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Ben Bova:
On the wall above my desk, where I can see them when I'm writing, I
have four model airplanes. None of those existed when Pearl Harbor was
bombed. And within months we had designed and built these airplanes --
the two on the left were in the Pacific, the two on the right were in
Europe and they just cleaned the sky. They broke the Luftwaffle into
little tiny bits and destroyed the Japanese air power. It symbolizes
to me what people can do when they need to. Humans can do incredible
things. I tell people we should be very serious about building solar
powered satellites, structures miles wide in space -- "Oh God, how are
you going to raise the money? It'll take years," they say. No -- It'll
take as long as it needs to take -- when you want to do it. It's
always hard selling the future.



Bettie Anne Hull:
At the end there's a ping-pong table that's no longer usable because
it's got things on it, we have gym equipment here. It went from "My
God what are you going to do with that huge room?" to my partitioning
it off with books into basically three rooms.


Frederick Pohl:
My wife Bettie Anne and I have three other offices in this house, one is
hers, one was mine, and one that we share. We built this room as an
addition to the house to be a space for some books we didn't have any
other place for and we've worked out here or a year or so.  But I write
wherever I am. I've written in some very strange places -- in the
hospital, in airports, in hotels, shopping malls, I can write anywhere --
wherever I happen to be. I always carry a shoulder bag with writing
materials.



Piers Anthony:
"This is what my space looks like, always paper, always books. For me,
writing is wherever I am. Originally I  was a two-fingered typist with
a mechanical typewriter in any corner I had. We had a wood stove and I
went out and chopped the wood and I thought "This is great, I'm
getting exercise!" Then I got to be a best seller and I calculated
the value of my time  the number of working hours in a year and how
much money I made and I said to myself "why am I chopping wood? Would
I pay someone this much to do it?" I realized I could no longer afford
my own time for such chores. So we built this house and it has
electric heating. I don't need to measure my life out in money so
much, I measure it out in time; what's the best use of my time."



Chip Delany:
I refer to my office affectionately as my "nest", and if you look
around it's easy to see why. When I first put it together it was a lot
more organized than it is now. I've been so busy writing that i don't
have time to spend six days and shovel the place out like the stables
of Aegis and get a new shelf and clean it all up .

I like the place, it seems to keep me writing which I guess is what an
office space has to do and that it accomplishes very well -- as they
say if it's not broke don't fix it, so I've not tried to fix it,
because for it's main purpose, it's not broke.


Ysabeau Wilce:
I wrote most of my first book in my parents laundry room. They live in
Arizona and their laundry room has a counter -- it's a very small room
-- with a counter on the southern exposure with southern windows. So I
just sat in the laundry room. With the laundry. And the sunlight. And
no distractions and typed away and that actually worked out really
well.

Now I have this space which is really cool because it's so big and it
has windows on the end and the built-ins. Obviously I like
nicknacks. There's just something about having lots of little
nicknacks around that I find comforting I suppose.


Harry Harrison:
When I write, I just sit down and I write. If you can't do that, you
can't be a writer. Even when you're sick. Sometimes I'd be very sick,
coughing with a fever and I'd be going down the stairs to work and my
wife would say "You're sick, don't work today" -- but really, if you
don't work, who else is going to do it?  


Ellen Datlow:
I used to work in an office, many many years ago, and once I moved
home I knew I needed to create an office space for myself. I bought
this display table it has drawers in it and the top is glass and you
can look down at all these nicknacks and I've always loved it. This is
where I live.  This is the space I use. I'm surrounded by my things
that I love, all my art that I love, and there's a window behind me
and sometimes one of my cats Bella lies here. To me it's not
claustrophobic, it's just really nice space. 


Joe Haldeman:
I get up early, around three in the morning and I work out on the back
porch. There's no electricity out there, so I work by oil lamp and I
usually write, with a fountain pen, until the sun comes up, writing by
hand in a series of notebooks, usually Canson field sketch books. The
paper is thick enough that the inks don't bleed through so you can
write on boths sides. About 95% of the stuff I write goes into the
final draft. I don't change to much, I'm basically a slow writer.



Lois McMaster Bujold:
For me, making it up and writing it down are two different parts so I
tend to have different spaces that I do different parts of the writing
in. The "making it up" happens lying in bed, taking a walk, out on the
back deck, sitting in the living room, anywhere except at the
computer. And I do my note-making elsewhere usually and work things up
into outline form, and then it goes to the office, and the first draft
goes on at the computer, but only after it's all been worked out in
other places. So I have a very diffuse office if you want to define
the park I walk in, the neighborhood I walk in, and all that -- that's
a part of it. 


Neil Gaiman:
Apparently I write in the Gazebo. I've come full circle. I had it
built in about 1993, maybe '94 and worked there very happily through
about 98, 99, and then went off it -- I'd written there for four or
five years and wound up getting a cabin out on the lake, it was about
a twenty minute drive and I'd go there and then there came a point
where I realized that I hadn't been out there for about a year and
then someone who did go out there came back enthusiastic that there
was now wireless Internet out there and I thought "Well, that's
doomed, isn't it?" And that was that.

But before that, Anansi boys was written in the local Caribou Coffee,
again because it didn't have wireless and nobody knew where I was and
I was getting away from the house. And I think the reason I went back
to the gazebo last year was primarily because I could take the dog
down with me and it seemed like a good place to go. And I love the
feeling that I'm getting out of my house, I love the feeling that I'm
going to work which may be a rather silly thing but it does actually
put a break in and it does also tell me that I've gone to work. If I'm
down at the bottom of the garden and I'm playing solitaire then I'm
obviously not working. Whereas if I'm siting in my kitchen on a
computer doing email and I stop and I'm playing solitaire I've no idea
if I'm working or not. So I think it's a good thing to have a work
space.

The problem with having that writing space is of course that it gets
really cold here in the winter. So you wind up with a sort of strange
extra set of problems -- not all the time -- but when it gets
seriously cold -- of how do you warm it up? And very often at that
point, Lorraine, my long suffering assistant will volunteer and will
go down 40 minutes before I'm going to write and will turn on various
heaters and I'll have a blanket on my lap and dress up very warmly and
I'll sit down  there and write and if the interior temperature goes up
to 50 degrees I'm doing very well -- it can be incredibly cold
outside. But it's also true that when it's down in those kind of
temperatures I'm much more likely to phone my friend Johnathan and ask
him if he minds if I borrow his normally empty house in Florida, and
I'm much more likely to zoom down to Florida, with the dog, and write.



Bill Desmedt:
When I moved in this office had been a bedroom, it had one small
window, we knocked that out and put a bigger one in, that's the only
change I've made.



Michael Swanwick:
I can write anywhere, I carry a notebook around with me
everywhere. But when I write other places, I'm just writing a first
draft really, just scribbling it down into the notebook. Writing is
all a practice of putting words through my fingers again and again,
and this room is where I do that. It may not look possible, but I know
where everything in it is -- it's actually quite an efficient space.




Pamela Dean:
My mother made this miniature of my office and give that to me as a
birthday present. My office works very well for writing, I can see
birds, I can see traffic, I can see neighbors scolding their kids and
stuff like that and I can see the sky and the weather and that part's
really good. It actually doesn't work at all as a businessplace -- it
doesn't work at all as a place to file things, to find papers, to
locate manuscripts, -- it's completely broken down for purposes of
business. But for writing it's excellent. 


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