If you’re looking to try out your German translation skills the German company no man’s land contacted us and is looking for submissions for its 2011 issue coming out in November. no man’s land is now accepting poetry and prose electronically and by mail. If interested contact Isabel Cole. Viel Glück!
Call for Submissions – no man’s land # 6
Contemporary German-language fiction and poetry in English translation.
Deadline: August 6, 2011.
no man’s land, the online journal for contemporary German literature in translation, is seeking submissions for its 2011 issue.
For prose, send up to 3 texts (stories or self-contained novel excerpts, max. 4,000 words each) by one or different contemporary* writers. For poetry, send work by up to 3 poets, each to a maximum of 5 poems. No simultaneous submissions, please, and – with some possible exceptions** – no previously-published translations. The deadline is August 6, 2011 (postmark date), and we will inform contributors by early September 2011; the issue will go online in November. We regret that we are unable to offer honoraria.
Please include your contact information, biographical and publication information (for both translator and author) and a copy of the original. Also, please provide proof of permission from the original publisher and/or author – whoever holds the rights to the piece (this could be a copy of a letter, or forward us an e-mail).
If you can include the original text in file format (PDF or other), we prefer that you send submissions electronically to Isabel Cole at email@example.com. Otherwise, mail them to no man’s land, PO Box 02 13 04, 10125 Berlin, Germany.
To save us time and keep us from misplacing your work, please observe the following guidelines for electronic submissions:
1) Submit all texts (poems or prose) by one author in the same file (i.e. not a separate file for each little poem).
2) Name the file with your translation as follows: pr for prose, ly for poetry_your last name_the author’s last name_e. So Anthea Bell’s translation of prose by E. T. A. Hoffmann would be: pr_bell_hoffmann_e.doc. Name the file with the original the same way, but ending with _dt (pr_bell_hoffmann_dt.doc). Stephen Mitchell’s translation of Rilke poems would be ly_mitchell_rilke_e.doc, and the original would be ly_mitchell_rilke_dt.doc.
Apologies if this sounds complicated, but it really would be a great help!
For more information, see our “Translators’ Tips” on the no man’s land website and feel free to contact us at the above e-mail address.
We look forward to reading your work!
The Editors, no man’s land
*Defined more or less as writers currently active, or active in the later 20th/early 21st century. When in doubt, query!
The publisher’s blurb for Oleg Pavlov’s The Matiushin Case promises the prospective reader “a Crime and Punishment for today,” the sort of comparison that is almost always guaranteed to do a disservice to both the legendary dead and the ambitious. . .
One hundred years have passed since the start of World War I and it is difficult to believe that there are still novels, considered classics in their own countries, that have never been published in English. Perhaps it was the. . .
In the London of Hédi Kaddour’s Little Grey Lies, translated by Teresa Lavender Fagan, peace has settled, but the tensions, fears, and anger of the Great War remain, even if tucked away behind stories and lies. Directly ahead, as those. . .
One of the greatest services—or disservices, depending on your viewpoint—Bertrand Russell ever performed for popular philosophy was humanizing its biggest thinkers in his History. No longer were they Platonic ideals, the clean-shaven exemplars of the kind of homely truisms that. . .
The best way to review Alejandra Pizarnik’s slim collection, A Musical Hell, published by New Directions as part of their Poetry Pamphlet series, is to begin by stating that it is poetry with a capital P: serious, dense, and, some. . .
Upon completing Albertine Sarrazin’s Astragal I was left to wonder why it ever fell from print. Aside from the location, Astragal could pass as the great American novel. Its edginess and rawness capture the angst and desires we all had. . .
When my eyes first crossed the back cover of Fabio Genovesi’s novel Live Bait, I was caught by a blurb nestled between accolades, a few words from a reviewer for La Repubblica stating that the novel was, however magically, “[b]eyond. . .