By Tiffany Davenport, 10 April 2025

The AI takeover

It’s 2025, and the list of jobs already being replaced by technology is pretty mind-blowing. Self-checkout machines are replacing cashiers, chatbots are replacing call center agents, and automated robots are replacing warehouse workers.

There are AI surgeons and radiologists, agricultural drones, 3D printers, and automated tools for accounting, video editing and graphic design – plus self-driving trains and subways… it’s a lot.

Then there’s AI-powered writing software taking over copywriting and translation jobs. I can grasp industrial robots building cars, scanning my groceries and even delivering my packages. But I can’t grasp AI being a better writer. How is that possible? I imagine it’s just been fed loads and loads of writing samples and guides – maybe everything ever written (?) – and it uses some robot logic with nouns, verbs and adjectives that lets it rebuild sentences, themes and stories. Yes, actual stories! I hate it for making my job look easy and taking away my billable hours, but I’m also fascinated by it.

My relationship with ChatGPT

Last autumn, I typed into ChatGPT: I’m sad.

‘Why?’ it asked.

‘I’m a copywriter, and you’re taking my jobs…’

ChatGPT typed back: ‘Awkward…’

Just kidding.

What it did do was offer me tips on how to position myself as a copywriter in the AI era. It suggested I market myself as a copywriter who uses AI as a tool, emphasizing its accuracy and efficiency alongside my human eye and experience. I took its advice. I pitched myself as a hybrid copywriter who offers human creativity and AI efficiency. I highlighted my 20-year career as a copywriter and my expertise in brand voice comprehension, strategic vision and elegant storytelling.

I went on to laud AI as a remarkable tool but explained the setbacks…

Your brand's written content is its voice to the world. You can’t just leave that to AI alone. It will miss specific opportunities for connection and it will make mistakes, and whether we’re talking copyright infringement or just plain misinformation, those mistakes can be very costly and embarrassing.

It’s true! Even ChatGPT has a disclaimer at the bottom of its page: ‘ChatGPT can make mistakes. Check important information.’

Then I threw in my personality… AI doesn’t have one of those. Right?

To know me is to know I overthink everything – but as a copywriter, that’s good. I will overthink and approach your brief from every angle. I will prompt AI with dozens of questions before I find the best and most concise way to tell your story, then I will work in the flow with the right balance of empathy and humour.

As I’m writing this, I wonder: can I prompt ChatGPT with a personality?

Me: ChatGPT – What are some machines that have replaced humans in the workforce, and can you respond as if you were a drag queen?

ChatGPT:

Moving on…

We’ve had our ups and downs

Last year, I had to write for a Mergers and Acquisitions (M&A) firm, which meant diving into some pretty nitty-gritty text for their website. The problem? I didn’t know much about M&A, so I turned to ChatGPT for help. I typed in a few different prompts to get a wide range of answers and educate myself on the terminology. Then, I cross-referenced that information with their old website and notes from my visit to their office in The Hague. I pulled it all together to create copy that was concise, accurate and personal. ChatGPT actually helped me become a better copywriter. And that got me thinking: What other new areas can I write for? The possibilities are endless.

Sometimes I run a grammar check on ChatGPT, and without me asking, it will rewrite a sentence. A perfect sentence, a beautiful sentence. It crushes me. I won’t use it. I take part of their suggestion, reword it and rewrite the whole paragraph if I have to just to make it as beautiful in my own voice. The goal is to beat the machine.

More than just a writing tool

What else does this thing do? Well, pretty much everything. I’ve found new recipes, analysed my dreams, read the latest on hormone replacement therapy and even gotten help with my creative writing. While applying for funding for a short film I wrote, I ran a grammar check on ChatGPT ‒ then, out of curiosity (or exhaustion), I asked what it thought of my script. The way it broke down my character arcs and pushed me to get more out of a scene was incredible. I mean, scary, yeah… but also incredible. And ChatGPT always offers encouraging words. So sweet! Wait, are we friends now?

ChatGPT:

Going forward

Whether I’m writing for an agency or translating for a production company, it’s the little human touches that the clients always notice. My copy has to connect and sometimes it’s one cute little word that does the trick. It's also important to be aware of cultural nuances and how language evolves. I try to stay up to date. I follow the right influencers, I watch the right films, and while I do know about Gen Alpha, I also know that I can’t get away with using rizz in a sentence. That’s just cringe. I can barely get away with using cringe.

It’s all about striking a balance. As great as ChatGPT is, I don’t think it can manage that like I do. But not every client cares about that balance. ChatGPT is amazing and it’s free. It will continue to undercut my work and that sucks. What else can I do? I love scriptwriting, but breaking into the industry – let alone making money from it – is tough. Teach English? Feed an AI machine for a very low rate? I like my feet. There’s an OnlyFans for feet, right? I wonder what it pays? Oh wait, I’ll ask ChatGPT…

                  ChatGPT’s review of this post. 

By Sally Hill, 31 March 2025

If I told you I was a scientific writer who writes non-clinical study reports, would you know what I mean? I suspect that many in-house language professionals have jobs we’d never heard of in school when considering careers; jobs that are so niche you roll into them without noticing after working elsewhere. For me this involved working first as a genetics researcher, then as a biology teacher, and finally as a freelance medical translator, manuscript editor and lecturer in scientific writing.

These days I work at a small Dutch biotechnology company where my work helps to get cancer drugs approved for use in patients. Most of my day-to-day work involves talking with scientists about their results, then putting a story about their data down on paper as clearly and accurately as possible in what’s called a non-clinical study report. But I’m also involved in answering questions from regulatory bodies relating to reports I’ve written; in writing manuscripts; in organizing internal speakers for monthly research overviews; I’m helping develop a company-wide style sheet; and I’m in an IT workgroup that’s testing Microsoft Copilot (ever heard of large language models and AI tools? anyone?).

What’s a non-clinical study report?

Non-clinical study reports are technical reports that biotechnology and pharmaceutical companies and contract research organizations (CROs) use to document the results of their experiments – some experiments are done in cell culture in the lab, and others in animal models. These experiments – and the accompanying reports – are needed in the pre-clinical phase of drug development to persuade regulators that the drug is safe and effective before testing starts on humans in clinical trials.

I’ve recently started to give a three-hour workshop on non-clinical study reports as part of the professional development programme of the European Medical Writers Association (EMWA), together with another writer whom I met through EMWA. But I don’t consider myself an expert. While I’ve been writing study reports for ten years, I’ve not been able to find any external training or resources on how to write these reports.

Want something done? Do it yourself!

I went to my first EMWA conference back in 2021 and I was looking forward to getting some training in my particular niche of ‘medical writing’. But all of the sessions were related either to medical communications or to clinical trials. None of the talks or workshops were about non-clinical studies, and certainly not about how to write reports on them. After hearing about my disappointment, a long-time member suggested I simply give a workshop myself, and gave me the name of someone to contact who might be able to help.

Luckily the other writer had some experience in giving EMWA workshops and in writing non-clinical study reports, so a new EMWA workshop was born. Imposter syndrome – yes that familiar beast – keeps on raising its ugly head, but it’s quieter than it used to be.

Lessons learnt

So while I should long be past the stage of deciding what I want to be when I grow up, I think I might actually finally know: a scientific writer! This job and my volunteering for EMWA (and SENSE) have brought together my loves of science, language and knowledge-sharing. If any of you talk to teenagers wondering what subjects to choose or what career path to follow, just tell them to stick with what they enjoy. After all, if you enjoy something, you’re more likely to succeed at it. It’s worked for me anyway.

By Anne Hodgkinson, 17 March 2025

In the Netherlands, one sign of spring as reliable as hay fever is the announcements of performances of J.S. Bach’s ‘St Matthew Passion’ in the weeks before Easter. Whether it’s the local choral society or the country’s top choirs, it seems everyone puts one on. You’ll see other passions and composers, but the St Matthew is the most frequently performed by far. The fact that this is the appropriate time of year liturgically (Jesus was crucified and died on Good Friday) partly explains the timing. However, there are more performances of it in the Netherlands, in both per capita and absolute terms, than anywhere else in the world, even in Bach’s native Germany. On average there are about 200 performances here every year, compared to only a few in, say, Germany. What is going on?

The tradition began with reciting the Gospels on Good Friday. (The medieval ‘Passion play’, one of the mystery plays, is a secular offshoot whose descendants include the hit musical ‘The Passion’ and ‘Jesus Christ Superstar’.) Over the centuries, simple chant became more polyphonic, that is, having more than one vocal line at once, then added instruments, and by the Baroque period the standard forces had expanded to choir and orchestra, plus soloists including a narrator (the ‘Evangelist’) and Jesus. Bach’s St Matthew Passion is a masterpiece. First performed in 1727 in Leipzig, presumably on Good Friday, it is big, employing two choirs and two orchestras plus vocal soloists, and it usually lasts at least three hours. Bach weaves the story through a huge range of emotions and colours in chorales, choruses, arias and duets, giving it a dramatic power verging on the operatic.

For some Christians it is a consummate religious experience. They can experience Jesus’ suffering vicariously and have moments for reflection in the chorales (hymn tunes; Bach’s audience would have sung along with them). The piece ends solemnly with Jesus’s burial as the grief-stricken choir – unaware he’ll be resurrected in three days – wishes him ‘Ruhe sanfte, sanfte Ruh’ (‘gently rest’). Applause is often considered inappropriate after church performances. Martin Luther is on record as expressly disapproving of acting out the Passion ‘in words and pretense’, since both complicated polyphony and sheer beauty would distract attention from the message. Christians, he felt, should experience Christ’s suffering in real life. (He’d be rolling in his grave listening to this music!) Nevertheless, Protestants and Catholics alike kept the Passion oratorio as part of their Good Friday liturgy. Bach’s piece uses the Luther Bible as a basis, compatible with the Dutch Reformed Church’s mix of Calvinism and Lutheranism.

For the non-religious, St Matthew Passion is also sublime both as drama and as music. Its depth of feeling is something many people don’t associate with Bach, whose ingenious counterpoint is sometimes considered too mathematical to tick any emotional boxes. It has an amazing diversity of melody, harmony, flashy passages, poignant moments and some stunning effects, like the shimmering strings that always accompany Jesus when he sings, like a sonic halo, to name just one. It’s full of details; you can listen to it over and over and find something new every time.

It’s indisputably great music. So why don’t other countries put it on as much as the Netherlands? I think the answer is a confluence of several factors in addition to sheer excellence: the ‘Mengelberg tradition’ and its opposition; the strong Dutch choral presence and a good Lutheran ‘fit’; the early music movement; and the fact that the original language isn’t a problem for the Dutch.

After Bach’s death in 1750, his music was largely forgotten. The St Matthew Passion was not performed again until 1829. The composer Felix Mendelssohn conducted a choir and orchestra of hundreds (Bach may have used 50 or 60), at the time appropriate for such a monument, and made drastic cuts to the score, including two-thirds of the arias. Today these adaptations would be unconscionable violations of the composer’s intentions, but despite or perhaps because of them, the concert was a hit. The first performance in the Netherlands was in 1870 in Rotterdam. In 1899, Willem Mengelberg conducted the piece with the Concertgebouw Orchestra and Toonkunstkoor Amsterdam in The Concertgebouw for the first time. Their annual Palm Sunday concerts became so popular they were even broadcast live on the radio.

In a recurring and centuries-old debate over whether religious music should be enjoyed as music, a growing faction felt that Mengelberg’s interpretations were over-romantic and heavy (he once had 1,650 performers in all), with an ‘empty virtuosity’ that occluded the spiritual message. Mengelberg was Catholic; you could reasonably liken his performances to an overdecorated Catholic church. Many Protestants felt strongly that the piece should only be performed in a church, on Good Friday. An opposition movement was born, and in 1921 the Netherlands Bach Society (Nederlandse Bachvereniging) was founded with the aim of making the spirit of Bach’s religious music ‘speak as purely as possible’. Their first St Matthew Passion was on Good Friday in 1922, in the Grote Kerk in Naarden. Now there were two camps, and both ‘types’ of performances continued to proliferate.

Then came World War II and the occupation. One could be forgiven for thinking that the Dutch might have stopped putting on or attending a long oratorio by a German composer, sung in German. And the piece’s anti-Semitic undertone would not have gone unnoticed, especially once the atrocities began. But the Passion performances only seemed to offer solace and hope, and to bring people together. The piece is now a ‘civic ritual’ all over the country. Good Friday in Naarden is the one to see and be seen at, especially for government dignitaries – it’s often sold out a year in advance.

The 1960s saw the Early Music revolution, a movement committed (not entirely unlike Mengelberg’s detractors) to performing Renaissance and Baroque music in the way the composers intended. It made classical music cool, adding a younger, ‘hipper’ audience. Today orchestras including the Bach Society playing ‘authentic’ instruments or copies have joined the mainstream, alongside performances by modern orchestras playing modern instruments.

The Netherlands has a strong choral tradition and consequently, many choirs. Most vocal music works best in its original language, and the German language is familiar to people on both sides of the conductor here. The St Matthew Passion is so much a part of choral repertoire here that many choirs give multiple performances every year. One particular for-profit outfit crams over 35 into the season, sometimes two a day, and even one on Easter Sunday (my husband comments, ‘Luther would be somersaulting in his grave!’).

I’ve sung it many times (both choir 1 and 2), and during the 1990s I toured with it in the Netherlands, Belgium, France and Israel. Eight performances in ten days was exhausting. I think it’s a masterpiece and fun to perform, although personally I find the chorales ponderous, especially if the conductor is milking them for meaning.

If you haven’t ever attended one, I do recommend it (trigger warning: contains descriptions of graphic violence). It’s so good that one Prof. Luth of Groningen said, ‘even mediocre performances of it are impressive’. The Bach Society’s will be excellent and you can look for tickets here (full disclosure time: my husband is one of their singers) but there are many more everywhere. Happy Easter!

By Cristina Vizcaíno, 5 March 2025

In our fast-paced, 24/7 connected world, journalism is changing at a dizzying speed. With the ‘silent death’ of print media in favour of digital platforms and social media, both the way news is produced and how audiences consume it have transformed dramatically. Today’s journalists face new challenges but also exciting opportunities. To understand this shifting landscape, it’s important to explore the essential skills journalists need, the obstacles they encounter, and the broader trends reshaping the industry.

Truthfulness, accuracy, and keeping the public informed. This is what, at its heart, journalism is. While these core values have survived the passage of time, the tools and skills journalists use to carry out this mission have evolved significantly. Nowadays, journalists need a blend of traditional skills, such as investigative research, and new skills, such as digital literacy and multimedia storytelling.

Investigative research is the essence of journalism. With misinformation spreading like a wildfire, often aided by social media, it is crucial to have an ability to dig deep, verify facts, and uncover the truth. Journalists use both traditional methods and modern tools, like online databases and expert interviews, to cut through the noise of ‘fake news’. Critical thinking is equally essential, enabling journalists to deal with complex issues, identify bias and ask insightful questions that lead to fair, accurate reporting.

Also important is the ability to tell clear, engaging stories across various platforms. From ‘short and sweet’ 280-character tweets to in-depth feature articles or video reports, today’s journalists must know how to survive in digital ecosystems and adapt their storytelling to different formats. While writing remains central, multimedia storytelling is essential for engagement, requiring journalists to create interactive content that captures and retains audiences’ attention. Digital literacy has thus become necessary. Journalists need to be comfortable with a range of digital tools, from content management systems (CMS) to social media platforms like X, Facebook and Instagram. They must understand how to use these tools effectively to reach their audience, optimize content for search engines (SEO), and analyse audience engagement data.

Despite its crucial role in society, journalism faces significant challenges. Financial pressures from declining print media and the rise of advertisement technologies have made it difficult for many media organizations to remain profitable, leading to layoffs and fewer resources made available for investigative reporting. In response, some media companies are exploring alternative funding methods, such as subscriptions or non-profit support. Press freedom is also under threat in many regions, with journalists facing legal harassment, physical violence, and even self-censorship in countries where the media is free. Furthermore, mental health and burnout are growing concerns as journalists grapple with tight deadlines, distressing events, and constant news cycles.

The rise of citizen journalism presents both challenges and opportunities. Thanks to smartphones and social media, almost anyone can report on events, democratizing information and bringing attention to human-interest stories that might otherwise go unnoticed. However, this also blurs the line between professional and amateur reporting. Journalists are trained to uphold ethical standards, while citizen journalists often lack formal training. The real challenge lies in ensuring the credibility of sources amidst the unverified, amateur content. For example, witnessing the role of misinformation during the Valencia floods in Spain last November has been harrowing. To protect the public’s trust and safety, it’s more important than ever for journalists to uphold high standards of accuracy and integrity. I remember when tweeting first became popular, and people could share whatever they wanted. Now, many people treat tweets as if they’re factual truths, and it often feels like anyone can act as a journalist without being held accountable to any integrity standards.

As technology advances, multimedia content such as videos, podcasts and interactive features has become increasingly popular, especially among younger audiences. The shift to digital platforms has transformed how news is created and consumed. Journalists now use diverse formats, including documentaries, audio stories and visual material, to provide deeper, more engaging reporting. Those who adapt their storytelling to fit each platform will be more successful in capturing audience attention. Social media, while offering opportunities for direct engagement, also presents challenges. Algorithms often prioritize sensational stories, making it harder for balanced reporting to gain traction. Journalists must be cautious not to contribute to the spread of misinformation.

In this new era of technology, the growing importance of data-driven journalism and artificial intelligence cannot be overstated. Journalists can now use big data to identify trends and gain a better understanding of complex issues, while AI assists with data processing and even handles some repetitive tasks through automation.

Journalism is at a turning point. To journalists, it might feel like it’s always been this way, with constant change and new challenges. The profession is constantly evolving, often feeling more like a calling than just a job. Despite the rise of new technologies and fast-changing trends, core skills like research, storytelling, integrity and adaptability remain unchanged. While challenges persist, opportunities are emerging in multimedia storytelling, data journalism, and combating misinformation across social media. As long as journalists continue to adapt, their commitment to truth and public service will ensure that journalism remains vital to healthy modern societies.

As a journalist, a reader, or simply as a citizen, it's important to ask ourselves: ‘How do I consume news? Is it reliable and does it make sense to me? Are the sources trustworthy, or could they be influenced by personal or institutional biases? Am I engaging with news in a way that encourages critical thinking and helps me stay informed, or am I just accepting what aligns with my existing beliefs?’ In a world where misinformation spreads so easily, the way we consume news not only shapes our understanding of events but it also influences the wider conversation in society.

Written by: Alice Lehtinen
Published: 21 February 2025

On 31 January 2025, Dr Fiona Richards from Nazarbayev University, Kazakhstan, gave an interesting online UniSIG talk titled ‘Proofreading student writing: A research-based stakeholder tool focused on ethical practice’. Fiona began the session by introducing us to the stakeholder tool for examining ethical practices in proofreading that she developed together with Nigel Harwood (Sheffield University) as part of her doctoral studies. Her main research question was ‘How do students, proofreaders, and lecturers perceive a range of proofreader interventions in terms of ethical appropriacy?’

In their co-authored paper³, Fiona and Nigel described the taxonomy they used to develop the stakeholder tool, which was based on Nigel’s taxonomy (2018)¹ and Kruger and Bevan Dye’s (2010)² frameworks. They also used the SENSE Guidelines for Proofreading Student Texts (2016) to confirm proofreading service for a student thesis. The taxonomy enabled them to analyse how many and what kinds of proofreading interventions (e.g. changing words or correcting punctuation) were made to students’ writing. They also interviewed the study participants for their views on ‘lighter and heavier’ interventions.

The need for this tool arose in response to Harwood’s claim that ‘Many British universities do not have proofreading policies, with those that do providing little information as to ethically (in)appropriate forms of intervention.’ It seems that UK academics are hardly aware of what proofreading entails, let alone the ethics and guidelines surrounding this service. More universities are now drawing up proofreading policies, but these are still brief and vague.

The purpose of the stakeholder tool is to help academics (supervisors, lecturers and university teachers) decide whether the changes made by proofreaders, i.e. third-party interventions, are appropriate, that is, ethical or unethical. It can also serve as an educative tool and remind writers of their responsibilities.

The tool consists of a questionnaire that suggests various third-party interventions, and the respondent can decide whether or not these interventions are ethical. Fiona showed us an example of two interventions that reordered the words, phrases or sentences in a paragraph written by a student. The first asked the student to think about the placing of a sentence and to decide where it should be placed. The second was a ‘heavier’ intervention, as it directly suggested (in a comment) moving the sentence to the end of the paragraph. The first intervention was considered more ethically acceptable by the supervisor as the student had to do the thinking, whereas the second intervention did the thinking on behalf of the student. The study found that students were more permissive of ethical appropriateness than academics were, and that their stances sometimes differed greatly. It also showed that some supervisors acted as grammar checkers, but that others were content to let proofreaders make suggestions.

The stakeholder tool can be used in workshops to train proofreaders and policymakers. It aims to draw attention to the ethical appropriateness of proofreading and to make stakeholders communicate more with each other. It can also be used to encourage and inform proofreading policies.

After Fiona’s presentation, a lively discussion ensued. The first question concerned the definition of ethical appropriacy. Where do we draw the line? We all agreed that this was a difficult issue. Is a ‘lighter or heavier proofreading touch’ more appropriate? The editors in our group raised the age-old issue of ‘fixing versus flagging’ with the following questions:

• How far do we go when language editing?
• Isn’t part of our work to teach writers, and to help them improve their writing?
• Shouldn’t we show them how it’s done?

Fiona’s opinion was that students should be permitted to receive some guidance on their writing – a supervisor can’t just leave their students’ papers full of grammar mistakes, for example, and should be allowed to correct their writing.

Fiona’s doctoral study focused on an English L2 Spanish student, whose command of English was close to native level, and who was writing a thesis for her doctorate of education in English. She was helped by an English L1 proofreader and her English L1 supervisor. In the study, the student had strong opinions about the proofreading changes. She voiced these opinions and made sure she had the last word, even if her language-related opinions were not always in line with those of her supervisor. However, the pilot study had an English L2 Chinese student, who had a lower level of English and allowed much more language intervention and even wanted suggestions from the proofreader to improve their writing.

Many of us attending Fiona’s online session were self-employed academic English editors, who work with researchers, some of whom are PhD students and write articles for publication in international journals. One editor expressed the following ‘sinking feeling’, which I personally identified with: ‘So, is what we do so unethical?’ And doesn’t this also make journal reviewers’ comments unethical?

However, our discussion concluded that this type of intervention is very different to proofreading young graduate students’ writing, and that it is based on a different set of standards. Some of us even saw ourselves as part of the writer’s ‘team’. As our clients pay us to improve their writing, they want us to make changes, to make it worth paying us. And so our boundaries may stretch further than those around students’ writing. Fiona’s tool can’t really be applied to scholarly writing, as it is intended for assessing student writing, and so a distinction was drawn between these types of interventions.

This then led to a brief discussion on the difference between proofreading and editing, a topic under ongoing debate. Copy-editing was also mentioned, and how its definition has changed over time. We talked about the difference between the ethicality of, on the one hand, changing word order, spelling and punctuation, and fixing mechanical language issues and, on the other hand, suggesting that the writer change the order of their research questions in a paper. Here, the line between language editing and substantive editing is crossed. This raised the following questions:

• If a proofreader/editor actually almost rewrites the text… is it even the original author’s work anymore?
• What exactly is the editor’s role?

We all agreed that these questions were difficult to answer.

We concluded that interventions in scholarly writing for publication are not the same as interventions in graduate students’ writing, but that in both areas, guidelines need to be more transparent. Clearer policies are required to help solve these ethical dilemmas.

References

1. Harwood, N. (2018) ‘What do proofreaders of student writing do to a master’s essay? Differing interventions, worrying findings’. Written Communication, 35(4), 474‒ 530. https://doi.org/10.1177/0741088318786236

2. Kruger, H., and A. Bevan-Dye. (2010) ‘Guidelines for the editing of dissertations and theses: A survey of editors’ perceptions’. Southern African Linguistics and Applied Language Studies, 28(2), 153‒169. https://doi.org/10.2989/16073614.2010.519110

3. Richards, F., & Harwood, N. (2024). ‘Proofreading student writing: A research-based stakeholder tool focused on ethical practice’. International Journal for Educational Integrity, 20(20), 1‒16. https://doi.org/10.1007/s40979-024-00165-4

SENSE (2016). Guidelines for Proofreading Student Texts.

Written by: Eline Tuijn
Published: 12 February 2025

She opened her eyes. The sunlight streaming through the window felt like the stab of a knife in her eyes. She closed them again. The hard flagstone floor seeped cold into her back and legs. She tried to move her head but pain shot through her back. She felt winded and disorientated. Then, like a swell of the tide, the memory of what had happened came flooding back: the handle of the mug breaking off, boiling water scalding her stomach and leg, the pain shooting up her foot as she stepped on a fragment of broken mug, losing her balance as she hopped to the kitchen chair, banging her head against the kitchen table as she sunk to the floor.

She blinked and turned her head to the right. Looking down at her was Bernard. She couldn’t remember hearing him come into the kitchen. His face took on a worried expression when their eyes met. ‘Sheila, are you alright?’ he asked. ‘What happened?’ He knelt down beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Let’s get you up off this floor.’

When he made to push her up, she gasped in pain. He released his grip but kept his hand resting on her shoulder. The weight of his hand felt heavy, as if he was pushing her down. ‘We’ll try that again, shall we?’ Bernard leaned over her to gently slide his hand and lower arm under her shoulder, his face almost touching hers. She felt his warm breath on her face, a smell of coffee mixed with the fresh scent of his aftershave. The intensity of it was overwhelming, almost nauseating. This time, instead of pulling her up, Bernard stretched out beside her, with his arm underneath her and rolled her onto her side.

The next morning, Sheila was emptying out the bin. She noticed the fragments of mug and the broken handle caught her eye. Something was not quite right, the break seemed too perfect.

‘Crying over spilled milk?’ joked Bernard as he walked into the kitchen and saw her staring at the bin.

‘No.’ Sheila replied, unsure whether to say something about the mug or not.

‘There’s no need to be so short with me.’ Bernard sounded hurt.

‘I’m not… it’s just… Oh never mind.’

‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘Nothing, why would you say that?’

‘You’ve been acting weird since that little bump on the head.’

‘It was more than a little bump, you found me unconscious on the floor, for Chrissake.’ She stopped short, her mind working overtime as she thought back to the accident.

Had his expression changed from dispassionate observation to concern when he noticed her looking at him? The smell of fresh coffee on his breath. Had he really made himself coffee with her lying unconscious on the floor? She felt doubt settling uneasily in the pit of her stomach as it struck her. Was he trying to get rid of her?

That afternoon, over a cup of tea at her sister’s, Sheila took the plunge. She explained what had happened, that Bernard had only seemed worried once she regained consciousness, the smell of coffee mixed with aftershave, the handle of the mug that appeared to be broken deliberately and stuck back on.

Clarissa was having none of it. ‘I mean, it doesn’t make sense. Why would he do something like that?’

‘I don’t know, for mum’s inheritance?’

‘I think you’ve been watching too many murder mysteries.’

‘Last week the brakes didn’t work. And he was the last person to drive the car.’

‘That’s hardly a sign of a murderous husband,’ Clarissa laughed. ‘Wasn’t your car up for a test anyway?’

‘Well yes but that’s beside the point. Now that I think about it, he’s been acting more aloof lately, as if he’s distancing himself from me.’

‘Sheila, the man has just been promoted six months into his new job. That’s a huge vote of confidence. And responsibility. He’s probably got tons on his mind and is trying to do his best for the company. Makes sense that his marriage is on the backburner a little.’

Sheila continued as if she hadn’t heard. ‘And a week ago when I went into his study to clean up, I saw some insurance papers lying on his desk and Bernard came in and was really angry with me for snooping.’

‘Sweetie, your imagination is running wild. I get annoyed when Mark rearranges my things, too.’

Was she wrong? No. Her resolve hardened.

The only thing she could think of was to test him, draw him out. But how? Pretend she was terminally ill, or fake her suicide? Or tell him she was leaving him and see if he would go after her and try to kill her? That was a risky ploy but it might just work if she planned it right. Yes, she would leave a note saying that she was leaving him and that she was staying at their holiday cabin in the Cotswolds until the divorce and not to visit her. She would install cameras and record him coming over. If he came over.

Two days later Sheila watched the doctor’s lips move but couldn’t register what he was saying. Thoughts tumbled through her mind like a washing machine, churning the same ideas over and over. Only when Clarissa shook her by the arm, did she manage to focus and ask ‘how did it happen?’

The doctor suppressed a small sigh: ‘Like I explained, the police say he was hit by the number nine bus on the way to the station. He was brought in with quite severe injuries but he will make a good recovery.’ Then apologetically said, ‘look, I’m sorry but I have to do my rounds. You can collect his belongings at the front desk.’ And off he hurried, eager to put distance between them.

At the front desk, the receptionist handed her the blue sports bag she knew so well. It was the bag she used for her gym gear. Why had Bernard taken her sports clothes to the station? As she lifted the bag, she heard a clink of metal. She stiffened, then walked quickly to the exit. ‘Where are you going?’ Clarissa asked, half running to keep up with her. ‘What’s going on, aren’t you going to go up to see Bernard?’

Sheila didn’t answer but unlocked the car, opened the boot and swung the bag in with a thud. Fingers fumbling, she unzipped the bag and yanked it open. She stared at the contents. Clarissa came up behind her, still talking but she stopped short as she looked down. There in the blue bag, between Sheila’s crumpled T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, was a rope, a hammer and a bicycle chain with a padlock.

First there was silence. Sheila stood frozen, a thudding in her ears slowly drowning out the silence and becoming louder and louder until Clarissa made a strangled, choking sound. The sisters stared at each other, eyes large. She saw the shock in Clarissa’s eyes and a look of pity spreading over her sister’s face. That galvanized her into action. She closed the boot with a bang and walked to the driver’s side.

‘Get in,’ she said curtly to Clarissa, whose eyes widened at the tone, but she obeyed and got into the car without saying a word. Sheila started the car, jerkily put it into gear and drove off. After ten minutes of driving in silence, they pulled up in front of Sheila and Bernard’s house.

As they got out of the car, they heard music. A thudding beat of drums, rich deep vibrations of bugles and the bright notes of a trumpet ringing out above the rest. The melodic clamour swelled to a crescendo as around the corner came a brass band marching towards them, engulfing them in a boisterous wave of deep brassy tones and shrill piping trebles. The row of players parted effortlessly around them, like a current of water flowing around a rock. Sheila took in the faces of the musicians as they walked past, staring straight ahead concentrating on their instruments. Suddenly she recognized one of them. The blood drained from her face as she watched Bernard march past her, oblivious to her presence, with the smell of freshly ground coffee in his wake. Her head started spinning, her knees buckled and then everything went black.

Written by: Tomas Brogan
Published: 31 January 2025

I passed the Diploma in Translation (DipTrans), working from Dutch to English, in two sittings. In a perfect world the three exam papers would be passed in one sitting. Alas. In my case I passed two papers first time, and failed one. A year later I resat the failed paper and was given a distinction for that part of the exam. Here is my take on the value of the DipTrans qualification – and how to pass it.

High-level translation skills

The UK-based DipTrans exam is set at Master’s level by the Chartered Institute of Linguists (CIOL), and accredited by the government’s qualifications office (Ofqual). It is renowned as a tough test of your translation skills, since the measure of your translation is whether it could be used for professional purposes. At heart the concept is simple: choose your source and target language, pay £895 and sit three exams with access to paper resources only. If you pass, you join the ranks of DipTrans holders for life.

To obtain a distinction in the exam there must be evidence of complete comprehension of the source text, no transfer of meaning can be missed, and all target-language conventions must be adhered to. For a merit or a pass some slip-ups may be acceptable, for example with punctuation or spelling. But too many small mistakes or one incorrect transfer of meaning can result in a fail for that paper. Any combination of passing grades across the three exams (pass/merit/distinction) will result in a ‘pass’ for the DipTrans as a whole.

The ideal qualification for translators?

Whether the DipTrans is ideal for you will depend on a few factors. It can be useful for translators with a university education in languages and some translation experience who are looking for a translation-specific qualification before they approach agencies. In this case the DipTrans is an excellent option as holding the exam will boost your confidence, as well as your clients’ confidence in your work.

The DipTrans can also be seen as a quicker and cheaper alternative to an MA in Translation. Finally, when applying for the Institute of Translation and Interpreting (ITI) Qualified Translator assessment, holding the DipTrans, along with references and Continuing Professional Development (CPD), can obviate the need to sit an ITI translation test, which again shows the DipTrans’ worth in the translation business.

Pricing

The price can initially be off-putting, particularly if you consider that resitting one exam paper will cost up to £500. However, remember that the DipTrans is a serious piece of CPD that proves you can translate at a high level. Because sitting two exams is almost as expensive as sitting all three, there are two basic strategies. First, you can sit all three exams at once and hope for the best possible result. Second, you can take one exam at a time. The second strategy would however cost £1,270 instead of £895 if all papers are passed on the first try – and this strategy could take a lot longer. Once one exam is passed, you have three years to pass the remaining exams before the ‘pass’ expires.

Three remote exams without internet access

In addition to the translation of a three-hour, 650-word general text, you will choose two semi-specialized papers of 450 words from the following subjects: technology, business, literature, science, social science, arts and culture, and law. Both of these papers are two hours in length.

The exams take place twice a year, in January and July. When I sat the exams in 2022 and 2023 they were spread out over two days, with the general translation exam on the first day. The exam has to be taken at your place of residence (do not book a hotel!) and as you might have guessed, it has to be quiet because you must be undisturbed for the duration of the exam, which is recorded and proctored remotely. It is then a lengthy three-month wait for the results.

Paper reference works only

Only paper resources can be used, which is a great excuse to bring out the old-school dictionary nerd in all of us. You will want all your good dictionaries and a great thesaurus. An up-to-date target language dictionary is a must. Subject-specific dictionaries, works on idioms or punctuation and style guides are all helpful. If you are well prepared, you will most likely not use these, and you will not have time for extensive research in any case. But having a pile of reference works at the back of your desk does calm the nerves somewhat.

Note that in-person exams may also be available, check the CIOL website for details.

Sounds good, but how do you actually pass the exam?

If you’re like me, you’ll want to pass the DipTrans in the most efficient way possible. The time investment is considerable and while a couple of misses is par for the course, failing papers can quickly get frustrating – and expensive. To pass as quickly as possible, I recommend the following:

• Find a DipTrans training provider who will advise you which course to take and will assign you a tutor. I used and can recommend www.translator-training.com. My tutor’s advice was invaluable. See the CIOL list of recommended providers here.

• Practice. By the time I obtained the diploma, I had completed over 25 DipTrans papers in exam conditions. It might sound like overkill, but unless you have tons of experience you will need to invest a lot of time and money to have a serious chance of passing the exam. You need to regularly find two or three hours to write the practice exams, plus time to consider the feedback you are getting.

• Digest the feedback from your tutor (i.e. identify your ‘favourite mistakes’). Do you consistently misspell certain words or accidentally use homophones? Your tutor will flag your errors, but it is up to you to collate and learn from them. Categorizing your errors will help you improve.

• Find and consistently execute your exam strategy. To save time, you will want to have as many logistical decisions as possible made before you enter the ‘exam room’. Which of the semi-specialized papers will you choose? Will you read through the entire text first or begin translating immediately? What will your final checks consist of? My strategy for a two-hour paper of 450 words was 30 minutes reading of the source text followed by translation of 40% of it, then 20%, then 40%, then 15 minutes revision. The point is to have time markers so you know how much time you have left – know this and you will know when to accept a reasonable solution to a translation problem, instead of a perfect one.

• Time management goes down to the next level. When organizing your revision of the paper after writing, the checks you carry should be completed one at a time and preferably in a set order that remains the same for every paper you write. Check that your translation has the same number of paragraphs as the source text. (Missing more than 5% of the source text will result in a fail.) Check that all dates are correct. Check that all names are spelt correctly. Check every subject-verb agreement. Check that all sentences end with a full stop. Check whether cultural terms are correctly translated. It can be difficult not to just ‘work on the paper’, but having the discipline to check one thing at a time will pay off.

• Be ready for the unexpected. Just like in real life, sometimes the source text is not perfect. Stepping back and looking at the text as a whole will help, for instance when the last sentence of one paragraph would be better at the beginning of the next one. Depending on your level of experience, translation problems like this or, to use another example, French or German words appearing in a Dutch source text, might throw you off. When issues like this cause a ‘user error/brain freeze’ in the exam, keep moving and come back later.

• Trust yourself. The 2018 edition of the Collins English Dictionary does not have the word ‘humanities’ in it. Cue exam room panic. Is it a word? Is there a better solution? Will I fail on this? Sometimes you will have to lean on your common sense and translation experience so as not to waste too much time.

• Be relentless in questioning your language choices. One of the most important skills in the exam is to continue doubting your language decisions, or at least to subject every decision to doubt.

The DipTrans is a rigorous exam that can help you achieve your career goals. The standard is high and unwavering, which will set you apart when applying to agencies and for employment. If you choose to take the exam, set aside at least six months to prepare, work with a tutor and celebrate every improvement. With intensive preparation the exam is achievable for university language graduates with some experience in translation.

In each stage you need to be obsessive about your interpretation of the information in the source language and word choice in the target language. Do this and stick to your timings, and you’ll have a great chance of passing.

Written by: Paula Truyens
Published: 21 January 2025

Mom and I were clearing away a corner of my garden to put up an inflatable pool for the summer. This involved trimming down a pyracantha that had taken on the proportions of a stegosaurus through years of neglect. Mom, an intrepid and experienced pruner of trees and shrubs, shot up the ladder without waiting for me to hold it in place. As she started pruning the beast, the ladder leaned over and before I could intervene, she toppled into the bush. Luckily, the pyracantha broke her fall and apart from being quite painful, the spikes merely deflated her gusto.

Naturally, Mom didn’t fall silently… her squeals alerted my brother Ben, who was enjoying a beer in the hammock. He came over to see what the hullaballoo was about and saw Mom lying in the prickly pyracantha. He helped me pick up Mom and as I took her inside for a calming cup of tea, I solicited him to finish the pruning job we’d started. In typical Ben style he mumbled ‘Yep, no problem’, but I wondered if he, the ladder or the pruning shears would come out of the job unscathed.

Fifteen minutes later, after we’d had tea, I went outside to see how Ben was getting on. To my surprise, he had disappeared and the ladder and shears were nowhere to be seen either. I did hear several thuds, clanks, and tap-tap-taps coming from behind the shed and, as I got closer, some choice expletives.

‘Ben, what’s going on, what are you doing?’

‘One of the ladder pads has come loose, so I’m fixing it.’

‘Do you think that’s what caused Mom to fall from the ladder?’

‘Yep.’

I went back inside to tell Mom about the loose pad and that this was probably what caused the ladder to slip and her to fall. ‘How is this possible? The last time I used the ladder it was fine, and it’s not that old.’ Knowing how my brother manages to break even the most solidly built objects in the strangest of ways – even a robust metal spatula (which he’d used for something it wasn’t designed for) – I started to suspect that maybe the loose ladder pad was no coincidence…

Two days later, Ben’s best mate Phil popped by with a couple of six-packs and snacks and they invited me to join them on the veranda. A favourite spot of ours on a sunny day, as you get a sweeping view of the magnificent, snow-topped Pyrenees. When Ben went inside for a pee, I told Phil about the ladder.

‘I think Ben broke it and didn’t fix it properly – you remember that time he broke my bike? He said he’d fix it but the next time I rode my bike the chain came off. So I think he didn’t really “fix” the ladder.’

‘But he did fix the bike, I was there and saw him working on it. The chain coming off probably had nothing to do with that,’ said Phil.

‘And what about all that smoke in the kitchen last year? He’ll put something on the stove and forget about it.’

‘He told me something was wrong with the toaster and it was burned bread that caused all that smoke.’

‘Hmm, I’m not sure. He’s just naturally accident-prone; he has some kind of reverse Midas Touch.’ I told him about the strange mishap with the spatula.

‘Yeah, but that spatula was probably one of those cheap, flimsy ones.’

I suspected Ben had misled his bestie…

Mom Knows – at least, I think she must do. She’s our mother, and if anyone knows Ben, she does. So when I popped by for a cup of tea the next day I asked her about these ‘mishaps’.

‘Phil seems to think Ben is perfectly innocent in all this, but I’m not so sure.’

‘Hah, Ben doesn’t do it on purpose, but he’s the most maladroit person I know. But rather than just owning up that it was a clumsy accident, he’ll make out there was something inherently wrong with what he broke.’

‘So do you think he could have broken the ladder?’ I asked Mom.

‘Could well be, and if it was him and he doesn’t fix it, he’ll damn well get me a new one.’

I felt my heart sink for Ben, because he wasn’t exactly strapped for cash and now more shame, guilt and pissed-off-ness at having broken something. But as I leafed through the local newspaper at Mom’s kitchen table, I saw a small piece tucked away on page nine that would normally escape my attention. ‘Escalade Idéale are recalling their X-135 ladder due to defective base pads. If you have one of these, get in touch with us as soon as possible.’ I rushed out to see if the ladder was indeed an X-135 Escalade Idéale. If it was, Ben might be off the hook!

I decided not to tell Mom or Ben about this until I’d made quite sure it was a product fault and not Ben’s fault. So I went over to where Ben had abandoned the ladder, evidently not that concerned about doing anything to fix it or, for that matter, to smooth things over with Mom. To my delight, it was indeed the model and make mentioned in the newspaper blurb.

As I rushed back to tell Mom, Ben strolled past me to where the ladder was. ‘Are you still going to try and fix it?’ I asked him.

‘Yep.’

‘Don’t bother, it was a product fault, I just saw it in the paper! We’ll bring it back to the shop.’ His face lit up and visibly relieved, he said, ‘Cheers, sis.’

When I told Mom, she managed a chuckle but also ‘Hmm, he got lucky this time.’

After the scare of Mom’s fall into the pyracantha, aspersions cast on my poor clumsy brother Ben and the relief (for me at least) of knowing it wasn’t his but a product fault, I felt lunch out on Saturday would do us all good. Mom was up for a walk through picturesque St. Bertrand de Comminges and a visit to the gothic cathedral in the village – which bizarrely houses a large stuffed Nile crocodile. Ben said he’d meet us at the restaurant.

As it was lovely weather, we decided to sit outside, overlooking the village square. Just as the waiter brought us our main meal – boar stew and a jug of Madiran wine – we heard strains of windpipes, drums and lyre strike up a jolly jig. When the troupe came into view from around the corner we saw it was Prima Nocta, a favourite medieval band of ours. Such merriness was just what we needed and I could see Mom and Ben were enjoying themselves. But right after dessert, Ben got up and said, ‘Thanks, sis, I’m heading back home now. See you later!’ Which I thought was odd as we hadn’t even finished the wine and the music was still building up.

When we got back home a few hours later, I heard the familiar clip-clip of shears in my garden and to my surprise I saw Ben on a brand new ladder finishing the job Mom had started a few fateful days ago.

Written by: Frans Kooymans
Published: 8 January 2025

A unique opportunity presented itself last year for me to visit the Pacific Northwest. I was invited by the American Translators Association (ATA) to address its Dutch Language Division (DLD) at its annual conference, held from 30 October to 2 November 2024 in Portland, Oregon, in the US. My translation into Dutch of ‘All God’s Dangers’ by Theodore Rosengarten, the oral history of an illiterate Black sharecropper from Alabama, was the instigation for this invitation. I had spent the better of two years on the translation, which was published in October 2022 as ‘De kleur van katoen’ (ISBN number 978-90-832122-7-2 published by ISVW Uitgevers, part of Internationale School voor Wijsbegeerte). The crown on my translation career, I might say, which allowed me to survive the Covid pandemic unscathed. Tony Parr and Marcel Lemmens, who were distinguished speakers at an earlier ATA conference (as well as Joy Burrough-Boenisch), alerted me to get in touch with the DLD, and an opportunity became a happy reality for me.

ATA65 – yes, the sixty-fifth annual conference of this association of translators, interpreters, and other language specialists – was a big event. It attracted some 1,200 participants from all over the US and abroad, and many languages could be heard at the Oregon Conference Center, ranging from Spanish to Arabic and from French to Chinese and Japanese, as well as English in various accents. During four days close to 200 sessions were held, small as well as plenary, thus plenty to choose from for the often colourful participants. As the conference coincided with Halloween, various witches and ghosts could be discerned during the event, including SENSE member Nina Woodson and her husband, who featured as Alice and the Mad Hatter, straight from Wonderland.

I got the invitation for the conference nearly five months in advance, which meant lots of time to prepare. Too much almost, as it stays on your mind the whole time and leads to a lot of writing and rewriting and then partly deleting to keep the presentations within manageable proportions. I presented two one-hour sessions. The first one titled ‘From All God’s Dangers to De kleur van katoen’ covered the whole process of how I converted the original American English text from 1974, all in the local dialect of a Black cotton farmer from the Deep South, into understandable Dutch, and of the close collaboration with the author, the sometimes frustrating search for a publisher, and the promotion of the Dutch translation of this big book.

My second session covered ‘The State of Literary Translation in the Netherlands’. To prepare for this, I got a wealth of information about the promotional efforts by Expertisecentrum Literair Vertalen (Centre of Expertise for Literary Translation) and Nederlands Letterenfonds (Dutch Foundation for Literature). So my presentation focused, on the one hand, on the efforts to support and train literary translators (a university-level programme, courses, mentorships, etc.) and the grants available to qualifying translators, and on the other hand, on the low level of compensation for literary translation and the difficulties of attracting enough young people to choose a translation career.

The conference started with a Buddies Welcome Newbies event, where long-standing participants (for some this was their tenth or more ATA conference) met newbies such as I. Aside from all the information to be garnished at the numerous sessions, these four days constituted a tremendous networking opportunity. Name badges, which also identified language and nationality, had to be worn to gain attendance to the Oregon Convention Center, but these also stimulated contact between strangers. So I was approached, for example, by the Belgian translator of one of Geert Mak’s books into French.

Four days in a part of the US that I had never visited before was reason for my wife and I to extend our stay to a full three weeks. So we got to see a good bit of the city and its surroundings. The Columbia River Gorge with its many waterfalls, the Mount Hood volcano, the Japanese Garden in the wooded western part of Portland, the rugged Oregon coast – all quite impressive. I have, meanwhile, recovered from the jetlag caused by the nine-hour time difference with home and can look back on a rewarding time in Portland.

Part 1. ‘From All God’s Dangers to De kleur van katoen’

In the autumn of 1974 the literary world saw the publication of ‘All God’s Dangers’ by Theodore Rosengarten, a young historian from up North. This volume of oral history, which won the prestigious National Book Award, tells the life of Nate Shaw, an illiterate Black sharecropper from the Deep South. Rosengarten recorded Shaw’s compelling stories exactly as he had heard Shaw tell them.

Fifty years later Shaw’s history remains relevant, including in the Netherlands, where black lives matter as much as in the US, all in light of its own history of slavery and colonialism (think of Suriname and Indonesia) that is getting much attention these days. So, I set out to translate this big book into Dutch, and two years ago it was published as ‘De kleur van katoen’. The title is a tribute to the storyteller, who took great pride in the lily-white cotton that he produced his entire life, fighting the lifelong odds against him.

‘All God’s Dangers / De kleur van katoen’ continues to captivate the reader. The civil rights movement has meant much for the Black population in the US, but the racism and social discrimination have largely remained. The book shows the hard reality of life in the South and the resilience that is needed to fight on.

Part 2. ‘The State of Literary Translation in the Netherlands’

The archetypical book translator in the Netherlands is a woman aged around sixty. She translates a quarter of a million words of fiction from English to Dutch, earns around €20,000 per year, and often has another language-related job (editor, teacher or subtitler) to make ends meet.

These are findings of a detailed study of some years ago into the job market position of book translators, commissioned by a leading literary foundation that is heavily involved in the training of literary translators, in an effort to attract younger people to the profession.

No one will doubt the importance of literature, but what about the translation of literature? Without a dedicated translator, the Diary of Anne Frank would have had a dreadfully small number of readers, and without the translators duo Bindervoet and Henkes, the Dutch reading public would still be struggling through James Joyce’s Ulysses. So, what keeps students from pursuing a translation career? Is the profession still interesting enough to attract talented candidates? And how are these issues addressed in the Netherlands?

There are enough threats that inhibit a healthy Dutch translation culture. One example is the decline of interest in languages other than English. Another, the limited number of programmes to train translators. And above all, their poor compensation, making it difficult to attract enough young candidates.

But we see solid initiatives in the Netherlands to counter these trends. Training facilities are provided by the Expertisecentrum Literair Vertalen (ELV), including personal coaching, mentorships, and a translators’ house. The Nederlands Letterenfonds provides subsidies to translators: essential since few Dutch books get published in English without a grant. And a Master’s programme in literary translation has been developed by the universities of Utrecht and Louvain.

My recent work

More recently, I have translated from Dutch into English 'Van Alabama naar Margraten' by Mieke Kirkels. The book is about the life of a Black soldier who was involved, towards the end of World War II, in digging the graves at the military cemetery in Margraten at a time when the US Army was still entirely segregated. The title of the translation is, not surprisingly, 'From Alabama to Margraten'. The book will be published this coming spring by Amsterdam University Press, in time for the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Limburg.