First, a little background. All of the production costs and licensing fees of a book are paid by the publisher. But despite that, the publisher usually only gets about a quarter of the cover price. The bookstore usually gets the book at about half price and the distributor's cut is about half of that half. Thus if a book sells, the bookstore gets about 50% of the cover price, the distributor gets another 25% and the publisher gets the remaining 25%. The publisher's 25% pays for licensing, freelance talent, and all of the salaries and business expenses of the publisher. That means that a publisher needs to sell probably somewhere between 7000 and 10,000 books to simply break even (more if you're selling for a lower cover price). There are a lot of books that don't sell that well, so the publisher needs a few break-out hits to balance out a number of books that are a drag on the company's profits.

Now I have never worked for or with TokyoPop, so this is all speculation, but remember that I've been in a similar position and had to make similar decisions.

Let's say a publisher has a book that they started to try to license a year or so ago. It takes a long time to get production up and running so proposing a contract a year or more in advance is not all that unusual these days. Last year, while trying to figure out whether to license it or not, the publisher made inquiries to the chain bookstores and other influential sources to get a ball-park guess of how many copies they would expect to order. Let's say that the buyers weren't thrilled with it, but they gave guesses that would make the manga profitable in the long run, so the publisher went ahead and proposed terms to the people representing the mangaka based on those guesses.

Fast forward a half year or so, and all the details are worked out on the contract, so finally the editorial department can begin production on it.

Fast forward another three or four months, and the in the last 3/4 of a year, the market has changed. The shelves have been filling up with popular series that have upwards of 20 volumes each, and the more marginal titles are being squeezed off the shelves. And a major buyer says, "Sorry, but shelf space is tight and your new title has just a little too much sex/violence to bet on. We're revising our order numbers way down." (Remember that this is speculation. The chain-store buyers may not have ever had a chance to see the manga or make an estimate before being asked to make their final orders.)

Suddenly the publisher is looking at a book that has already had a pretty big investment in production and advances on royalties for the mangaka. The publisher realizes that now the book won't even make up the printing costs, let alone licensing fees and production costs and business expenses. But the contracts are already signed, and the publisher is committed to putting out the book, so what does one do?

Go back up and read the second paragraph, and you'll have an answer. If the distributor is cut out completely, and the retailer is the publisher itself, then instead of working with 25% of the cover price, the publisher now has 100% of the cover price to work with. Sure there are extra costs inherent with working one's own retail outlet, but they (hopefully) won't add up to 75% of the cover price.

So, how about a discount as Brigid of MangaBlog was looking for? Well, that's the problem with the contract being last-year's contract. A 3rd-party retail outlet can put on any discount it wants as long as they pay the agreed-upon wholesale price to the distributor, but unless the publisher has worked a retail discount for itself into the original contract with the mangaka, the publisher is contractually bound to sell the book to the public at the cover price.

I think Chris Butcher of Comics 212 and Dave Taylor of Love Manga are a little off base when they think that TokyoPop is "biting the hand that feeds it" when it decides to do an on-line exclusive. Every publisher would like to get the books into the retail outlets because that is where the shoppers are. More than likely, the retail chains bit TokyoPop's hand first by deciding on low orders. (Actually, I doubt anybody bit anybody's hand here. These decisions were probably made by looking at the numbers on both sides. I doubt there are any hard feelings on either side over these books.)

In any case, I would like to see TokyoPop's experiment succeed. If a publisher can sell weird and off-beat manga from their site and still make a profit, it means that there is a viable avenue for things like more Josei manga, more quirky seinen manga, more older manga, and more of any other genre that doesn't do well in retail by giving them a way of succeeding on fewer units sold.

I wish TokyoPop all the luck in the world with this experiment.

Edit: My apologies to anyone who thought that the percentages that I listed above were the actual percentages negotiated with the distributors and retail outlets. They are very general ball-park figures in order to illustrate that the publisher gets a much smaller percentage than most laymen assume. You can figure a margin of error of up to 10% on these figures. In my own defense, these are percentages that I would use when trying to calculate whether a manga series we were looking at would be profitable or not. The actual percentages are slightly better for the publisher, but also remember that the publisher eats the returns, so in reality if the book sells poorly, the publisher's cut could be even worse.

]]> tag:translationdojo.com,2006:/blog//1.52 2006-08-21T16:11:45Z 2006-09-02T17:35:23Z

Searching for manga work isn't all that difficult. You send out query letters and e-mail to any company that is doing even similar things to what you are doing. A Japanese subsidiary company was putting out English-language versions of children's books based on the Miyazaki movies, so I bought one, sent in a letter praising it, sent in a few pamphlet manga of the work I had done previously, and left with the parting phrase, if you need any translation work done...

It was a fortuitous letter because at that very time, they were looking for new translators. (Don't be too surprised. I wouldn't doubt that at this very moment, there are manga companies that have just had several new titles licensed, and their managing editors are right now wondering who they can give the work to.) The company almost immediately sent me an artbook to translate, and they indicated that they had manga work coming down the line.

This subsidiary company had one reason for existing. They had a partnership with a major Japanese games producer to publish their accompanying magazine, and they knew that if the games producer ever wanted to take over the publishing of the magazine themselves, the subsidiary company would fold, and everyone would be out of jobs.

This led to a get-rich-quick attitude among the subsidiary company. The odd thing is the parent company had some great titles, and if the subsidiary company had taken the long view to building up a line of manga and anime-related items over a period of time, they might have weaned themselves gradually off of the magazine-only existence. But instead they expected everything they put out to sell huge and solve their problems all at once. A computer-based naked-eye 3-D book sold well, but not as well as they expected. (I had to learn how to cross my eyes, and make out the 3-D image in order to translate that one.) The manga I translated hit 147 on the Diamond charts for a month when most of the most popular manga were hovering around the mid 200s, but they were hoping for a number much higher. And they entrusted a Miyazaki movie to Troma Entertainment for distribution (famous for B-movies like Toxic Avenger) and were disappointed when it didn't bring in the ticket sales they hoped for. I remember looking at a newspaper in Tucson and finding out that the movie was playing. There was no advertisement and no description. Just the text of the title in a little box.

Basically, what it meant was that they put out relatively successful products that were well made and popular among the small audience that existed. But they weren't interested in that small audience, they wanted to be moguls. Within a few years, the company was no more. I honestly don't know what happened to it since my association with them ended with the conclusion of the manga, but they certainly didn't seem to be following a path toward lasting success.

Is there a lesson for a translator in this? Not really. The freelancer treats this kind of company with the same respect due to any company. But if you see this kind of compulsion in one of the companies you work for, you will want to make sure you are working regularly for at least one other company as well.

Ore wa gaijin, koko wa Tokyo;
Ore wa gaijin, koko wa Tokyo;
Dôzo yoroshiku, Eigo no sensei da zo.

Oyako-don ga daisuki, natto ga daikirai;
Oyako-don ga daisuki, natto ga daikirai;
Ore no Nihongo, amari jôzu ja nai.

It translates out to:
I'm a foreigner, this is Tokyo;
I'm a foreigner, this is Tokyo;
Nice to meet you, I'm an English teacher.

I love oyako rice-bowl, I hate natto;
I love oyako rice-bowl, I hate natto;
My Japanese isn't very good.

The song described me perfectly. It also described most of the people on my exchange program well enough that it sort of became our anthem.

(By the way, oyako rice-bowl is very much like its more famous cousin katsu-don (pork cutlet rice-bowl) but it has chicken substituted for the breaded pork cutlet. Mmm! And I hate natto also.)

And my Japanese wasn't very good.

The fact is, one can live in Japan, even in a place far away from the American military bases, without learning any more Japanese than greetings. A vocabulary of about twenty-five words can allow you to live for a year or so over there. I know people who have managed it. There are enough signs in roman letters and people who want to speak English that you can get by with a pitiful level of Japanese. It also means that if you're going to live in Japan, it will take a bit of effort to use your Japanese.

The problem isn't whether there is opportunity to speak Japanese. It's all around you. The problem is your own shyness. The unwillingness to make mistakes in front of strangers. The knowledge that you don't really know enough Japanese to get along turns some foreigners into hermits.

Then there is the fact that the Japanese won't expect you to learn Japanese either. When I walked into a store in Japan, the first thing that would happen is the cute girl behind the counter would disappear into the back room. Then out would come a rather embarrassed looking manager -- the guy who has to deal with the foreigner. I'd go up to the man and ask a question in Japanese, and he'd get a very perplexed look on his face. You see, he was so nervous about having to answer in English, that he didn't actually recognize that the words coming out of my mouth were in his language. By the end of the sentence, he caught on. I'd have to repeat what I said, but after that, it became a conversation in Japanese (where he usually had to tell me that he was sorry, but his store didn't carry what I wanted).

When one's hair is blonde, it becomes an opportunity for the Japanese to practice their English -- even after they realize that you speak Japanese. Numbers can be read off of the register when making a purchase. Food is displayed in plastic outside the restaurant, so you can memorize the Japanese characters and point to it on the menu when making your order. Every now and again, you're going to get on the wrong train or bus, but for the most part, you'll be fine without knowing Japanese.

The weird thing is, (as long as you don't look Japanese) it doesn't matter if you make mistakes with your Japanese. Most Japanese people will praise you to the rafters if all you say is konnichi-wa. If you try to make a sentence, most will treat you like a world-class genius. I was pretty introverted myself until I noticed all the praise one gets for even making the attempt. Then I happily made errors with the language all over the place.

Make no mistake, it isn't easy to learn the language, but when you're in Japan, there are a lot of rewards for even broken Japanese.

But a few quick notes...
Ow! We were number 1, but then came a freight train called Fruits Basket.

If anyone is wondering why my prior 2002: The Odyssey post was so Viz-centric (without searching through the whole dojo for the answer), I was Editor-in-Chief of the Viz editorial department during the time of the change-over.

Garage Sale update: If anyone buys the featured DVD - Dead Again, I'll throw in the Japanese tankôbon for Akazukin Chacha volume 2 for free. Just because I think Dead Again is such a great movie! (But follow the rules at the bottom of the Dead Again Garage Sale page.

Will post tomorrow.

Is this your profession or your hobby? If it's your hobby, that's great. That means your day job isn't so much a day job as a career, and translating manga and anime is something you do to supplement your income. And when meeting more "mundane" people than your standard anime and manga fan, it will be an interesting way so strike up a conversation. Making money while reading "them comical books" is far more acceptable to the non-fannish world than just reading them.

But if you want to make translation your profession, then you will eventually have to give up your anime and manga hobby, and, for sanity's sake, get yourself a new hobby or two.

It won't happen at first. In the beginning, you will be doing translations on the manga that's assigned to you, and spending your off hours engrossed in the latest book from the company you work for or a competitor's. Or sitting in a darkened room watching the latest anime to come off of Japanese television. But eventually, you will go to one of those "mundane" parties, and after exploring the conversational possibilities of a person who works on odd foreign entertainment, somebody will ask, "So, what do you do for fun?" The glib answer, "With work as fun as this, any other fun would be a letdown," will probably serve to set your conversation partners into polite chuckles, but that doesn't mean you can dodge the question yourself.

If you're doing full-time manga and anime, you need something else. Anything else will do. Most of my hobbies (and I have quite a few) came from things I did with family and friends while growing up or during my college days. For example, I was plenty fannish already when I took up hiking with friends.

The main point is this: when you have to work on your hobby, it's no longer the best hobby in the world for you. Hobbies are meant for relaxation -- taking your mind off of your daily stresses -- and if your hobby includes your daily stress, then it's time to find something else.

There's one other place where a non-anime/manga-related hobby comes in handy. A standard introduction to a Japanese person will usually include the question, "What's your hobby." If you know golf, then you're home free, but if, like me, the links never quite linked to you, then it's best to have another answer ready. Popular hobbies in Japan are sports such as tennis or skiing, studies such as learning a second (third or more?) language, movies, books, or music. But the question is supposed to be a conversation starter, so if your hobby is the same as your conversation partner's, be prepared with a good knowledge of the trivia involved in your stated hobby. And having your hobby be the same as your profession will cut off the conversation pretty quickly.

My suggestion for hobbies is anything that gets you away from your computer. Something that has to deal with the outdoors is probably best, but any change of scenery will help you separate you from the hours you spend with dictionaries and computer files.

The standard model was to first publish the manga in pamphlet comics that were 32 or 48 pages long (priced between 2 and 4 dollars), then collect them into approximately 180-page graphic novels that sell for about 16 dollars. There were several advantages to this publishing model. First, even if one did not make back all of production costs in the pamphlet comics, as long as it made back more than the printing costs, it worked to the publisher's advantage by making back at least some of the production costs. Then, over the course of the long-life of the graphic novel, the manga could eventually start showing a profit. This was an effective publishing strategy for its time because the number of pamphlet comics far outsold the graphic novels, and usually the pamphlet comics more than made up for production costs. That way, the graphic novels could enter the not-very-welcoming bookstore market only risking minor production costs (the time the designer and editor took to do the additional work needed for the graphic novel alone), printing and shipping costs.

The big variation on the above strategy was where the Japanese model of magazine-to-graphic-novel was used. Viz always had several magazines going, and publishers such as TokyoPop (then called Mixx) and Gutsoon started out with the magazine-to-graphic-novel model. Although TokyoPop moved to the pamphlet-to-graphic-novel model for some of their titles pretty quickly. (Magazines have never been very good for profits. Returns are high, so one usually has to sell in the hundreds of thousands before a profit can be seen.)

There were plenty of experiments done on format. Mini comics, 100-page low-priced graphic novels, colorized manga, weekly releases, colored paper, different kinds and weights of paper, different sizes, etc. TokyoPop in the late 1990s wouldn't go more than a year or 18 months without making some drastic change to their name or format or policies. (Remember the 2-manga-pages-per-page experiment?) Viz usually experimented with individual series. Something quickly forgotten among the fan community is that Viz was the first company to push shôjo manga and the first to publish right-to-left manga, although neither took off in popularity at the time.

In fact, since TokyoPop had experimented so much, the announcement in the 2001/2002 winter season that they would switch their entire line from right-to-left, not translate sound effects, and drop their prices to under $10 was greeted with a healthy load of skepticism. Viz had Evangelion as both left-to-right and right-to-left versions, and the left-to-right version sold at least twice as well as the unflipped version.

But TokyoPop launched their titles very well with display stands in the bookstores and some very strong titles such as Chobits. The fact that they did very well in June wasn't such a surprise, but by August, it was obvious that TokyoPop had found the secret formula for success.

Viz started to scramble. It wasn't completely for sure that it was the unflipping or the under $10 price tag. Viz was pretty sure it wasn't the lack of translation of the sound effects, although the cost-saving aspect of that wasn't lost on Viz's finance people. The main problem was that to change the price or change to unflipped required a renegotiation of every contract. I honestly still don't know how TokyoPop managed to change their entire line in the course of a few months. Viz pretty much caught on to the new reality in August, and it wasn't until March of the next year at the earliest that the first of Viz's low-priced manga could come out.

From and editorial standpoint, it was a difficult change. Producing pamphlet manga meant that each graphic novel was coming out once every 6 months. A switch to quarterly graphic novels meant that production was doubled. By 2002, the Pokémon bubble had long-since burst and Viz wasn't a very cash-rich company, so it was impossible to increase the editorial department. And finding enough freelancers to double production quickly wasn't easy either. But it had to be done. The sales on the pamphlet manga had been declining for years, so it was something of a relief to get rid of them, but the entire editorial department worked late pretty much everyday between the years of 2002 and 2004.

The change has been a great thing for manga as a whole, but there has been a downside to it. Since manga no longer has the cushion of pamphlets to eat up production costs, it becomes more difficult to experiment anymore. Format experiments have all-but disappeared, and content experiments such as were found in the pages of PULP magazine are pretty hard to find these days. Second, since a book has to make up its costs in the book-store market only, the wages for freelancers went down pretty drastically in some companies. (Other companies were low to begin with.)

Still, because of the changes that 2002 brought about, manga is one of the few healthy book markets in the United States today. There are several publishers devoted to Yaoi manga (which I thought would never happen), there are other specialty publishers, and bookstore distribution is wide-spread and knowledgeable. Today is a good day for manga. (I wonder how well it'll do tomorrow.)

This is brought to mind since I am presently working on a volume of a new manga that Del Rey recently announced, Mushishi. The story follows a somewhat modern-looking expert of an odd, primitive life-form called mushi as he wanders through the backroads of Meiji- or Taishô-era Japan helping people with the problems created where the world of the mushi meets the real world. The tone of the dialog is low and understated, like a quiet conversation late at night. This comes off of the shouting, over-the-top tone of School Rumble I worked on just prior to this assignment, so the difference in tone hit me especially hard this time.

There was a time when I (as an editor) received a translation of an art book that I basically had to rewrite since the tone was wrong. It was an art book for a romantic shôjo manga, and the translation (while very accurate) was far too matter-of-fact. The gorgeous, romantic artwork screamed out (to me, at least) for a more poetic tone in the captions. Instead of words such as, "like," or even, "love," this book was calling out for words such as, "passionate," "adoration," or, "obsession." So I pulled out the Thesaurus and rewrote it to match the images. I use this to illustrate that even captions need to have an appropriate voice as much as dialog does.

As I mentioned in a previous post on humor, comedy can call for different tones. When an artist is setting up a joke, they are usually playing on story-telling stereotypes to lure the reader into a certain expectation, then in the pay-off panel, they turn the expectation on its ear. So the translator should translate the buildup panels as if they were a part of that stereotypical type of manga.

Steam Detectives was playing on the techniques of superhero-style manga where a villain is as evil as evil gets. The tone for that kind of manga means that subtlety is inappropriate. This is where a translator has to pull out the best Eeeeevil dialog he or she has ever read in comics or in campy TV programs. I miss working on that manga. (Although School Rumble sometimes allows me to use some of that dialog.)

The tone of xxxHolic seems like it should be pensive and philosophical, but when you consider Watanuki's fencing with Dômeki, that requires some pretty over-the-top dialog, and Yûko's taunting of Watanuki, while not over-the-top, is pretty high-spirited.

One of the advantages of trying to translate tone is that most of it is carried in the images, so even when a translation doesn't live up to it, most readers will get the feel for it anyway. I once saw an official subtitled version of Omoide Poro-Poro (Only Yesterday) where the subtitles were awful at capturing the tone of the movie. At the end of the crowded screening, one man who had obviously seen a better translation stood up and pleaded with the audience to not allow the awful titles to turn them against the film. But listening to the audience talk among themselves as they walked out, most of them were saying that they loved the movie and didn't think the titles were that bad. As a translator, it was disappointing that the audience (a very sophisticated audience at that) couldn't tell a good translation from a bad one, but it did pound into my head just how powerful a good story can be.

That doesn't mean you get to fudge on the tone of your own translations! Read it carefully, and make sure your dialog and captions are appropriate!

If you're not familiar with how Japanese TV dramas (doramas) work, they run 9-12 episode complete stories during four seasons worth of a broadcast year. There have been occasional "double season" doramas, but those are the exception. If a dorama is extremely popular, they will have a sequel series about a year or so after the original dorama aires. (NHK doesn't follow this general pattern, but most of the commercial networks have at least a few doramas every season.) Some recent top-rated dorama include the Socrates in Love dorama and the Summer of 2005's Trainman dorama.

Misaki Itoh is a 29-year-old actress who, years ago, was one of the two stars of the You're Under Arrest dorama adaption, and she played the supporting role of the "pretty teacher" in the first adaptation of the manga-based Gokusen. But her breakout role was the lovely Hermes in Trainman last year. Since then she's had two or three more doramas that are basically vehicles for her. Although she's 29, she's a good choice for the character of Kyoko since she has some comedy chops. Her timing isn't as spot-on as, say, Izumi Inamori or Yuko Takeuchi, but she can hold her own. This means that the dorama will be anchored much better than the 1980s Maison Ikkoku movie was since it was used as a vehicle for a couple of relatively talentless idols at the time. (Although Yotsuya was brilliantly portrayed in that movie.)

I'm a little worried about the compression that will take place to stuff the 15-volume series into about 11 episodes. I'm sure Nikaido, who was even dumped from the 2-year-long anime, will never see the light of day, but I'm a little worried that a great character like Yagami will be dropped for space. Also, most dorama mirror the season they're broadcast in, so they usually take place over the course of 12 weeks within the dorama as well as in real life. But with MI, Godai takes something over five years (seven or so?) to gradually change from a hopeless teenager into a man who is worthy to marry Kyoko. It'd be hard for him to change realistically over the course of three months.

Maison Ikkoku means a lot to me. Not only because I worked on the subtitles for about the first half of the television series working freelance for Viz in the mid 1990s (until I actually got hired by Viz, then I didn't have time to continue it anymore), but Maison Ikkoku tought me more Japanese than any of my human Japanese teachers. After the first year, and especially when I was in Japan on the exchange program, I would pull out MI every couple of months and give reading it another go. It had no furigana (pronunciation guides written next to kanji), so I had to look up each kanji in my Nelson's dictionary, and some of the conversation (especially Akemi and Ichinose) were pretty slangy. But Kyoko, Godai, and Yotsuya always spoke very polite Japanese so it was very nice to see polite (masu- and desu-style) in action. And the subject matter was always very domestic, so most of the vocabulary I learned on it was useful in my everyday life in Japan.

I'm a dorama fan, so I'll be watching it on a weekly basis this coming Spring. I hope they do a good job with it.

Do you want some of it?

If you do, then Sensei has a deal for you! In an effort to get rid of many Japanese-related things that will not fit into the new confined space (such as untranslated manga and Japanese toys that I've picked up over the years), I'm including them as extras for the dojo readers when you buy sensei's non-Japanese-related stuff. Since the sites I'm using (Amazon, mostly) only gives a small shipping allowance that doesn't leave room for adding an extra pound to single DVD shipments, I can't add books or toys to most videos you buy. Instead, I'll add a signed personalized card from Sensei, so you get at least something extra. But on books, DVD boxed sets, toys, etc., I can afford to send along a goodie.

I'll be working through Amazon's Marketplace and E-Bay, depending on what seems most appropriate for the item. So you will need a credit card for the Amazon items, and you'll need a Paypal account for the E-Bay stuff. Also, these are big, public sites, so the items will be available to anyone who uses those services, but the extras are only available to dojo visitors. Once you've bought one of my items, use Contact Sensei to let me know that you've bought it. (There are a couple of details -- and you'll find them written on the item pages -- that you need to include in your Contact Sensei e-mail. This isn't generated from legal advice. I just don't want anybody to get something they or their parents -- if they the buyer is a minor -- aren't prepared for.)

Go to Sensei's Garage Sale to see what I have on sale at the moment. Stuff will be constantly sold or added to the list. Four DVDs have already been sold, so my photos and web pages for those items were wasted. (Waaaah!) But that's what I get for listing things I want to sell.

Some will not be the lowest price available for the item, but they're the lowest price I can afford to sell it for (and still get you your goodie). If you buy from somebody else -- no goodie. It's only for buying my stuff. On E-Bay, make sure you're buying from Santogill. On Amazon, make sure it's from Dojosensei.

So take some of Sensei's stuff off his hands and help out a little bit with the move. (Don't worry, Sensei will be blogging in Japan too.) Maido!

A mess.
Yes, sensei is terrible about clearing away clutter, and my desk and the area around it hardly has a flat space available that doesn't have something piled on top of it. But aside from that...

I work in a 2nd-bedroom converted to an office. That's not only good for concentration, it's also good for divvying up the apartment during IRS time.

My computer is a 2-year old I-Mac -- that type that's a half-globe that supports a small, 15-inch flat-screen LCD monitor. It hasn't taken well to the latest version of OSX, and I will probably have to change it out for something different in a year or less, but it gets the job done for now. I work on a Mac because traditionally the publishing industry works on Macs. But that doesn't mean that translators must work on Macs. For my first six or seven years, I worked on a PC and had no complaints from clients. But most files sent back and forth are in Microsoft Word, so if you are thinking of doing this professionally, get the program that the editors use.

Peripherals include an external hard drive for backups; an HP all-in-one printer/scanner/copy machine/fax machine; a digital camera; wireless keyboard and mouse; high-speed DSL line; and a label printer (I used to run envelopes through my printer, but the label printer is quicker and easier).

The computer sits in a computer armoire with lots of shelves for my stuff. It has two rolling keyboard shelves -- the lower one houses my keyboard and the upper one holds clutter that includes my Wordtank electronic dictionary and a magnifying glass for those tiny asides in the manga. The shelf just above that supports the computer and sitting right in front of it is a bookstand. There is no good bookstand for manga made yet. The one I have is an inexpensive plastic job sold at Staples. It has two small tabs that, when it is new, can actually hold a book open, but after a while the tabs retain the same amount of friction as ice on a hot frying pan, so now a rubber band holds the book open. (Before the rubber band, I tried butterfly clips, but the stand was too wide to hold the average manga at both ends.)

There is a top shelf that holds the previous volumes of the series that I am presently translating for reference. (It also holds some books on CD, the disks for my computer programs, a picture of my wife, some Gundam robot figures, etc.) The top of the armoire is given over to various toys and dust.

The office chair was bought about 1992 on sale at Price Club (which is now Costco). I tried a different office chair in the mid 1990s, but that one wore out after only a couple of years, so it was back to this one. The entire seat, armrests and back rocks back (I hate it when it's just the backrest that reclines). The backrest is not an all-the-way-up backrest, but I've never missed that top section.

On both sides of the armoire are two overstuffed bookshelves filled mainly with odd reference books that I never use (but someday might) such as the complete Shakespeare works; a guide to submarines and sub hunters (I was offered the translation on Silent Service, but the deal fell through before I could start); Imidas -- a Japanese yearly reference work that covers world events in all areas including politics, science, medicine, and most importantly, new words -- from several odd years, manga I've translated, and as-yet untranslated manga; etc.

To my immediate left is a piece of furniture that was supposed to be a printer stand, but since it has two handy shelves for all of my second-string dictionaries, it has become another bookshelf. There is another set of smaller shelves around its back corner that holds the English versions of the series I'm presently translating. But sitting on top is my pride and joy, a swiveling triangular dictionary stand for Nelson's and the Green Goddess. It was custom built and cost me several hundred dollars, and in full swivel mode, it's slightly too big for the printer-stand it's on, but it's one of the best purchases I've made considering how often I check those two dictionaries.

As for other details, there is a shelf behind me that is actually a wide armrest for a futon couch (covered with books, of course), and the old, useless office chair with old manga and DVDs piled on it. The doors to the armoire have corkboards that are filled with schedules, appointments, phone numbers, etc. I have a backup laptop computer for traveling or just in case the Mac ever goes on the fritz (I've had to use three or four times for that purpose before this I-Mac).

And when I run out of flat spaces (as I often do), there is always the floor...

According to the bookscan report I pick up (for a fee) from Book Standard online magazine, Tsubasa Volume 10 debuted in the number one position beating out a whole slew of Naruto manga!! And according to Love Manga, it placed number #95 on the USA Today book-sales list. Go CLAMP! (Thank you, CLAMP, for padding my resume!)

I'm going to use this as an excuse to take a day-long break from my normal blogging and use the morning to work on a few projects that need working on. One is a new section for the dojo, of which you'll learn more in the near future. Another project is continuing the translation of the recently-announced Mushishi manga (Yay!). And a third project is laundry. Yes, Sensei's dogi will not stink tomorrow (but stay upwind today).

Edit: Sensei should read Love Manga with more care. I made a mistake on how high Tsubasa Volume 10 ranked on the USA Today charts. It's fixed now.

]]> tag:translationdojo.com,2006:/blog//1.40 2006-08-03T18:32:25Z 2006-08-12T19:53:01Z

There are three things, any two of which will allow you to keep working as a manga translator.

Being on time. (Always meeting your deadlines.)

Being a genius. (Having work that's obviously above the rank-and-file.)

Being a nice person. (You're someone the people like to work with.)

This is, of course, after you've broken in already, and it assumes that you are basically competent in your job.

You don't need all three, but you do need two of the three.

If you are on time and a nice person, then you may not get the best jobs, but you will always have work because people want to work with you. Just being a nice guy isn't enough though. Being late will put your editors off.

If you are a genius, you need one of the other two. If you are a genius and on time, it doesn't matter what your personality is like. Editors recognize talent, and they will put up with a lot of attitude if you can get good work in on time.

Similarly, if you are a genius and the editors like to work with you, then they are willing to put up with missed deadlines because they like you and your work. This is one of the few instances where an editor is willing to overlook missed deadlines. In nearly every other case, deadlines are the freelance killer.

In practice, even the genius/nice guy combination (but missing deadlines) has a limit. If the freelancer flakes out and misses deadlines by months, the freelancer will get fired no matter how brilliant and beloved the person may be. Books have to come out -- especially in manga where the date of publication is usually written into the contracts. But a week or two off of the deadline will be overlooked.

But in translation, there aren't that many obvious geniuses. Most of translation is craft. In other words, most of translation is changing uninspired Japanese dialog into uninspired English dialog. (I reserve the word "inspired" for really penetrating text, but most scripts are normal, everyday text, and that's the way it should be. In every story, even fantasy stories, it starts in normal, everyday life and ventures into the fantastic. People in fantasy worlds still worry about family, food, aching muscles, romantic involvements, everything that makes up the reader's life as well. This text doesn't have to be inspired, and the translation doesn't have to be especially beautifully worded, in fact, it would be a mistranslation if it were. So it is no insult to think of translation as a craft that touches art every now and again. Okay, enough digression.) So because most of it is uninspired text, it will be difficult for even the most experienced editor to see genius through that. Eventually they can (when inspired text needs to be translated), but it isn't an easy thing to see.

So we translators have to rely on the other two aspects. Be on time and be an easy person to work with. It's all that we can control anyway, and the best way for you to keep working after you've managed to break into the industry.