So, ALTA just sent out the following info about applying for a fellowship for this year’s conference, which will take place from October 3-6 right here in Rochester. If you’re a young translator, you really have to apply for this for a few reasons: 1) ALTA will introduce you to mentors and contacts that will greatly influence the rest of your translation life, 2) a $1,000 goes a long way in Rochester, 3) I’m rearranging the schedule to bring a lot more attention to the ALTA Fellows reading, 4) there will be a lot of potential publishers at the conference, 5) I’m hoping to run excerpts from all of the winning pieces here on Three Percent, and 6) this is going to be The Best ALTA Ever—you do not want to miss out. (Decades from now, ALTA 2012 will be A THING OF LEGENDS.)
Here’s all the application info:
The American Literary Translators Association is pleased to announce that applications are now being accepted for the 2012 ALTA Travel Fellowship Awards. Each year, four to six fellowships in the amount of $1,000 are awarded to beginning (unpublished or minimally published) translators to help them pay for travel expenses to the annual ALTA conference. This year’s conference will be held October 3-6 in Rochester, NY.
At the conference, ALTA Fellows will give readings of their translated work at a keynote event, thus providing them with an opportunity to present their translations to a large audience of other translators, as well as to publishers and authors from around the world. ALTA Fellows will also have the opportunity to meet experienced translators and to find mentors.
If you would like to apply for a 2012 ALTA Travel Fellowship, please e-mail if possible a cover letter explaining your interest in attending the conference; your CV; and no more than ten double-spaced pages of translated text (prose or poetry) accompanied by the original text to email@example.com.
If you have difficulties with e-mail, please mail the above documents to:
2012 ALTA Travel Fellowship Awards
c/o The University of Texas at Dallas
800 West Campbell Road JO51
Richardson, TX 75080-3021
Applications must be received by May 15, 2012 in order to be considered for this year’s fellowships. Winners will be notified in August. Please keep in mind that you may not apply more than 2 times consecutively or more than 3 times total.
We look forward to receiving and reviewing your translations, and we hope to see you at this year’s conference. For more information, please visit ALTA’s website (www.literarytranslators.org) or contact Maria Rosa Suarez (firstname.lastname@example.org, 972-883-2093).
Founded in 1960 by such creative pioneers as George Perec, Raymond Queneau and Italo Calvino, the Oulipo, shorthand for Ouvroir de littérature potentielle, came about in when a group of writers and mathematicians sought constraints to find new structures and. . .
There’s little to say about a series of prose poems that willfully refuse to identify pronoun antecedents. Or perhaps there are a million things. The poems in Morse, My Deaf Friend— the chapbook by Miloš Djurdjević published by Ugly Duckling. . .
The Crimson Thread of Abandon is the first collection of short fiction available in English by the prolific Japanese writer and all-around avant-garde trickster Terayama Shūji, who died in 1983 at the age of 47. This collection would be important. . .
Last year, NYRB Classics introduced English-language readers to Catalan writer Josep Pla with Peter Bush’s translation of The Gray Notebook. In that book, Pla wrote about life in Spain during an influenza outbreak soon after World War I, when. . .
“Your bile is stagnant, you see sorrow in everything, you are drenched in melancholy,” my friend the doctor said.
bq. “Isn’t melancholy something from previous centuries? Isn’t some vaccine against it yet, hasn’t medicine taken care of it yet?” I. . .
What to make of Vano and Niko, the English translation of Erlom Akhvlediani’s work of the same name, as well as the two other short books that comprise a sort of trilogy? Quick searches will inform the curious reader that. . .
The opening of Jón Gnarr’s novel/memoir The Indian is a playful bit of extravagant ego, telling the traditional story of creation, where the “Let there be light!” moment is also the moment of his birth on January 2nd, 1967. Then. . .