Translator’s OCD

I have a confession: I have a serious form of OCD – Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Before I leave my house I check that the iron is switched off three times, despite knowing fully well I haven’t used it in a fortnight. I also feel the desperate need to triple-check that the water heater is off. I have good reason to do so, considering it has exploded twice in the past five years, flooding the entire corridor and damaging everything from expensive shoes to valuable books.

Unfortunately my obsessive behaviour doesn’t end there. You guessed it, my OCD shows its ugly head in my little office corner as well, forcing me to strategically place my mug twenty centimetres from my Mac, on the right side of my desk, never on the left. But there’s more… Translator’s OCD is also:

1.     Checking a translation not twice, but three to four times to make sure you haven’t forgotten any paragraphs. Or commas. Commas are always a struggle.

2.     Opening your text just one more time after you’ve attached it to your e-mail only to realise you didn’t like that word in the title after all. Time to start all over again!

3.     Going back to the original e-mail from the client five minutes before the deadline to make sure you’ve translated the text into the right language. Usually a waste of time. Usually, not always.

4.     Fretting over capital letters in titles. I don’t like them. But sometimes I do like them. No, no, I really dislike them. You get the picture.

5.     Worrying about having typed gibberish. That Lady Gaga song is so addictive. Help, did I accidentally include any of the lyrics in my text?!

The list goes on and on. The OCD messes with your head. You feel you need a break. So you decide to go for a walk to clear your mind, only to find yourself hurrying upstairs after two minutes to stare at your iron. It’s a vicious circle.

Do you have an unusual name?

I don’t. Not now at least. My name is Amy. Quite common here on the rock, but in the 80s, when I was still living in cold, grey Belgium, my name was considered quite unusual. Throughout primary and secondary school it was butchered into a series of horrible-sounding variants, both in spoken and written language. In Italy my friends found it virtually impossible to write and pronounce my name, so over there I’m still known as Emi. I even have a Facebook friend who writes to me using Emi. Does she realise my actual name is right there, above her message? At university – I went to a business school that attracted quite a few foreign students – things got a little better, but my name wasn’t spelled and pronounced 100% correctly until I moved to the rock. Amen.

When I translate texts I ALWAYS check and double-check names. To me the source text is not a holy-grail document that shouldn’t be altered. If there’s a mistake in it, I’ll correct it and let the client know. Isn’t that only logical? Unfortunately I’ve come to realise that’s not standard practice. In my six years as a proofreader I’ve rarely come across a text in which errors were corrected. I’ve worked with some of the best translators on the market, who can produce top-notch translations at the speed of light, but even they refuse to make that small effort and google proper names.

It’s a touchy subject for me, probably because it defined my childhood. I’ve always been so incredibly proud of my name. I love the fact that it’s international, short and sweet. It means “the beloved” – can it get any better than that? When I translate or proofread a text I always keep in mind that I would be horrified to see my name misspelled in an article or on a website. It would hurt my pride. It would strip me of my identity.

Next time you’re writing, translating or correcting a text please, please, please think of little Emi and put a smile back on her face!