Maybe Don't Try This

Why you always save a back-up draft

A couple days back I suggested running your work through a translation program to see how translating it back to English would create burnt tongue.

I’d translated a story into French, then back to English. Here’s a passage from the original:

The senior partner wielded the knife.  A great, gleaming blade, steel by the look of it.  Sheffield steel, from the hallmark.  His other hand held the carving fork.  A matched set, the knife and fork.  A uniformed maid carried the roast on a platter and set it at the head of the table.

            Another maid served the guests, the junior partners and their wives. 

As for the knife, it had seen better days, hadn’t it?  Dark cracks ran the length of the handle.  Katherine shot a look at her husband across the table.  He nodded, and she stood, half stood at her place and pointed one pink fingernail at the carving set.  “May I?” she asked.

Their hostess, the wife of the senior partner smiled.  Where he stood at the head of the table, their host gave a small bow.  He handed the knife to a maid who brought it down the table to Katherine.  The handle looked to be ivory, carved with nubs and whorls, some crosshatching.  She’d only read about such relics in college.  A walrus tusk, unless she missed her guess.  The table of guests fell quiet as she turned the knife over and ran a finger along the yellowed carvings.  She said, “Eighteenth century.”  The room waited.

Here’s how the French version translated back into English:

            The senior partner was brandishing the knife.  A large shiny blade, made of steel by its appearance.  Sheffield steel, from the hallmark.  His other hand held the fork to be cut.  A matching set, the knife and fork.  A uniformed maid carried the roast on a tray and placed it at the head of the table.

            Another maid served the guests, junior partners and their wives. 

As for the knife, it had seen better days, hadn't it?  Dark cracks ran along the handle.  Katherine glanced at her husband on the other side of the table.  He nodded, and she stood up, half standing in her place and pointed a pink nail at the sculpture set.  "May I?" she asked.

The hostess, the wife of the senior partner smiled.  Where he stood at the head of the table, their host gave a small salute.  He handed the knife to a maid who took it down to Katherine's table.  The handle appeared to be made of ivory, carved with knots and whorls, some hatched cross.  She had only read such relics at university.  A walrus defense, unless she missed her target.  The guests' table fell silent as she turned the knife over and ran a finger along the yellowed sculptures.  She said, "Eighteenth century."  The room was waiting.

Thank goodness I saved a draft before my experiment…

Note how many single verbs became gerund constructions: wielded became was brandishing. Waited became was waiting.

A walrus tusk becomes a walrus defense. The carving set becomes the sculpture set. The bow becomes a salute. Everything is an experiment, but always save a draft before you take the risk.