
Today’s post is by writer, editor, and book coach Karmen H. Špiljak.
Writing fiction in another language might sound straightforward. Technically, you’re using the same tools as in your mother tongue, so changing the language should feel no different from, say, switching from painting with acrylic to painting with oil. At least that was what I expected fifteen years ago, when I started writing in English.
What I learned was that it is much less about the tools and more about the painter. I fully expected a few challenges and hiccups, but I didn’t imagine that writing stories in another language would feel different. My writing voice sounded different, too. I stuck to it because English became my daily language after I’d left Slovenia. I wanted to make a living as a writer and writing in English meant reaching more people.
Later on, I learned that the practice of writing in a non-native tongue is known as exophony. French linguists have been discussing exophonic literature for almost fifty years, while “Exophonie” has been in use in German literary and cultural studies since 2007. The term made it into English, but it’s far from widespread. In fact, my spell checker keeps suggesting the word is an error.
Writing in a non-native language is nothing new, though. Exophonic writers include established names like Elif Shafak, Khaled Hosseini, Pulitzer Prize winner Jhumpa Lahiri, poet Nilofar Shidmehr and household names like Milan Kundera, Fernando Pessoa and Joseph Conrad.
There are different reasons authors decide to change their writing language. Hungarian author Ágota Kristóf wrote The Notebook in French because she’d migrated to Switzerland. Samuel Beckett adopted French to change his writing style and prune the embellishments of his mother tongue. Yiyun Li writes in English so she can distance herself from her painful past, while many others simply want to reach a wider audience.
Exophonic writers must master the language and find an authentic way to express themselves in a different framework. Sometimes, this means letting go of certain habits, expressions and structures, other times it’s about navigating cultural aspects without compromising one’s truth.
Ongoing language mastery, I learned, is a blessing in disguise. It invites you to stay curious about the language. You also become more conscious of your choices and deliberate about identifying and overcoming your shortcomings. Here are a few things that will help you ease the transition.
1. Adjust the mindset.
It might take a few beats before the quality of your writing in a foreign language resembles that in your mother tongue, so managing expectations is key. Give yourself permission to write badly, knowing this phase is a necessary step towards progress.
Avoid the temptation to compare your prose to that of writers who are further down the path. Their resources and circumstances are most likely different from yours. You can only make a fair comparison if you pitch your older writing against your newer pieces.
2. Disable the internal translation.
To take your writing to the next level, disable the internal translation and start thinking in your writing language. This might feel weird and counter-intuitive, but it will make a massive difference. If you’re crafting sentences in your mother tongue and translating them onto the page, chances are you’ll carry over the syntax and style from your mother tongue. You might, for example, favor compound sentences or baroque prose because it’s the predominant writing style in your mother tongue.
Sometimes your unique perspective will enrich the language and give it a fresh feel. Other times, it will stifle your prose and bring confusion. In Slovenian, for example, I could say that an icy wind shaves, but in English, I’d write that the wind felt like a razor against my skin. There’s a fine line between authority and authenticity. Every exophonic writer must find their own balance.
3. Master the language.
Exophonic writers tend to have a solid grasp of their writing language. Editing tools like ProWriting Aid, Grammarly and AutoCrit can help improve grammar and spelling, spot any disobedient commas or dangling modifiers and suggest further improvements. While these tools aren’t a replacement for an editor, they can help you hone your editing skills.
Writing fiction, however, requires exploring the language beyond grammar, from semantics to register, intonation, euphemisms and other details of the spoken and written language. The best way to learn is to immerse yourself: read, watch, and listen extensively. This will improve your feeling for syntax, grow your vocabulary and advance your dialogue skills.
I rarely read without a pen and I collect unfamiliar and interesting words in a dedicated notebook. A good dictionary and thesaurus are invaluable, but be mindful how you use them. Unusual or rare words stand out. If you use too many, they’ll divert the reader’s attention away from your story.
4. Scale up.
Before committing to a full-length novel, it’s good to try your hand at short-form fiction. Writing short stories is far from easy and comes with a steep learning curve. You’ll hone your storytelling skills, develop your voice in another language and build up your confidence. Not to mention that it’s much easier to revise a story of five thousand words than a novel of a hundred thousand.
5. Identify your writing tics.
Every writer has a favorite phrase, expression or way to start and end a sentence. You might not notice these tics unless you read your work out loud or ask for feedback. A good editor or editing tool can help identify your tics and weed them out. Writing software like Scrivener offers statistics on frequently (over)used words.
6. Do a quality check.
Ask native speakers for feedback to identify any parts where things aren’t clear or the writing is off. If you can hire an editor, even better. Exophonic author Emma Sterner-Radely wrote candidly about her editors’ confusion about doing something from one’s toes. In Swedish, the expression describes putting everything you have into doing something, but it doesn’t translate well into English.
After revising your story, read your work out loud or use an app that will read it for you. Mark any parts where the words don’t easily slip off the tongue and revise them.
7. Befriend your mistakes.
Accept that making mistakes is a part of learning. Even a thorough editing process can result in a few oversights. If an error slips out before you catch it, be kind to yourself. Take it with a pinch of humor. Croatian author Lidija Hilje, for example, turned her slip into an amusing blog post about the wider implications of roasting the wrong bird: They’re Eating the Peacocks, the People Who Live There.
Overall, I found my exophonic experience to be rewarding. I rely on copy editing and sometimes still struggle to find the right words, but I’ve also honed my style and got creative with the language use. Funny enough, these days I even dream in English.
Karmen H. Špiljak is a Slovenian-Belgian writer of suspense, horror and speculative fiction and the author of the award-winning culinary mystery collections, Add Cyanide to Taste and Pass the Cyanide. She lives in Belgrade and works as a developmental editor and book coach, helping emerging writers trust their voice and finish stories they’re proud of. She speaks seven languages, but her cats refuse to understand any of them. Find out more about her writing on karmenspiljak.com and her book coaching on storyallegiance.com.
A massive thanks for that! I keep trying to find current examples of exophonic writers and, more importantly, find some who share their experience. I’m sure we’re a bunch out there, but it’s a very niche thing for the usual writers’ blogs/websites/newsletters.
I’m French, but I’ve been working in both French and English for two decades as a writer, author, and broadcaster. I’m in a weird spot where I write mostly in English nowadays, but I have a feeling, now that I’m finally getting going with fiction, that it’s going to be an uphill battle to get a foot in if I want to go the trad pub road (which hasn’t been an issue in my non-fiction experiences). So, yes, very glad to read that post today!
Cheers,
Carole
I’m glad you found it useful, Carole. You might also want to check out the Exophonic Writer Podcast and these two blog posts: On Exophony and Exophonic Writers.
Thank you!
There are more and more of them in the days of social media as English is widely used.
Here you can see a poem that
[Serbian]
[non-native German]
wrote in
[English] and
only losely translated back to
[German]
to keep the German thoughts and intention as much as possible, disregarding flow, rhyme and vocal perception:
https://impspired.com/2021/04/01/velibor-baco/
Here is an example where lyrical expression was important and to my surprise I caught a fully self-standing way to translate that gives unique meaning. I can’t remember but I think I wrote it in English then German as it stands:
https://kunstkulturliteratur.com/2023/12/25/die-stille-ist-ein-klang/
I’m not fluent enough in a second language to try writing in it. Ironically, made this piece all the more interesting! Thank you, Karmen.
No, the other way is true: you are not fluent enough in a second language because you’re not trying to write. 🙂
Great article!
Whenever I try to write at length in Korean, my half-Korean/half-British children laugh at my attempts. This is undoubtedly due to my stiletto-sharp wit, and not because it reads to them like the book report of a six-year-old who’s been at Halmoni’s soju.
:). I’d love to know how British humour ‘translates’ to other languages
Hi,
What an interesting topic! What an interesting article! A how-to manual for a very small group. A special group.
I am Romanian by birth, American by circumstances. I write fiction. It took me a full twenty years to develop sufficient trust in my new language to start writing fiction in English. I like to say that I have no accent when I write (as opposed to when I speak), yet deep inside me, I know that I do. Because there is something else: one feels differently when one feels in the language of one’s lullabies.
I found your analogy to painting with various tools very telling. I always thought that one can paint as easily here as there (say France versus Tahiti, in the case of Gaugin). Painters, sculptors, musicians have it easy. Writers do not. Because it’s not just the language. It’s the humor. The trivia. The culture—what goes.
An accent can be a beautiful feature that adds to the flavour. A friend recently reminded me that native speakers, too, have accents. Something to keep in mind.
I can relate to feeling differently when thinking/writing in my mother tongue. It’s such a complex organism, the language, isn’t it?
What I find most helpful is to translate my own work, especially longer stories or excerpts of novels. It’s a lot of work, but my text becomes “visible” to me. It’s old (mine) and it’s new at the same time. Mistakes become obvious, almost like setting something aside and taking a second look a year later. Only that I don’t have to wait a year. And I mean structural mistakes, not grammar or word choices. Does it happen to you? Would you let someone else translate your English work into your native language?
That’s a great way to look at it! Translation is such hard work. I no longer write in Slovenian, but had my work once translated from Slovenian to English and from English to Portuguese. Reading that was an interesting experience – both translators did such a fab job that I could still feel the texture of my prose in that language. Capturing the style and the meaning is quite a skill, imo.
And yes, I probably would let someone else translate my English work into Slovenian. My grasp of my native tongue is less good than it used to be.
I get it. What’s an immigrant but a person who doesn’t speak well in any language? Do you write fiction?
In my experience, migrants speak several languages really well, but writing fiction is a different skill set to master.
Great read!
Now I want to throw in even another unknown word and show a parallele for better understanding:
Aphantasia
A state where people can not or not fully have an inner image of what they are thinking of or trying to think of. They don’t see a inner image of a [RED APPLE] when they read or at least try to imagine it.
That is how you can imagine the feeling to be when writing in a non-native language.
How I know? Until I fully immersed into it – for me it was falling in love – I spoke perfectly in German since 6 years of age but:
a “I love you” in German came from the translation and brain – not heartfelt. It took me 20 years and at least 5 times of falling in love and 3 times really being in a relationship in love to start writing poetry in German.
The interesting part for me is that I can write floral poems and all, even think to have had a rich imagination – BUT I don’t see the inner images anymore if I don’t want to. It must have to do something with the process of learning new languages and the stop of inner translation at some point. When the inner translation stopps a second-language-Aphantasia stopps as well, making us dream in the new language, feel it truly and “see” in us as feelings.
I just wonder if and what connections exophony and Aphantasia have. For me, native-speakers are still exophonic because:
they use inner imagery as translation for
feelings
from words.
Only when one stops attaching to our thoughts and imagery within – they still occur – but don’t flash up in our mind much like associative-thought when we read strong or vulgar wording.
It is like associating danger and fear with yelling – that we mostly have without our own will – which has to stop as our deeper translations-process. It is automated and one can work on not attaching to the ego just as with a language’s inner image, socially learned danger (yelling) and so on.
A truly idle mind has strong Aphantasia and is exophonic to it’s own native language!
My wife, a native English speaker, learned Spanish quite well. Good enough to translate documents from English to Spanish. As a Human Resources consultant, she translated exciting things like employee manuals to Spanish.
Her lesson to us all: Get a back translation!