Goodreads asked me to edit my author profile. That was a real surprise. I'm „only“ a translator, I didn't think they would consider me as an author, but they did. I must admit it feels great!
Obviously they appreciate not only the work a translator invests in a book but also the authorship of the translated version. In fact the translator's responsibility is actually much bigger than the average reader realizes. A bad translation can ruin a good story. The goal is to make the reader forget they are reading a translation. Did I achieve this goal? I'm not the one to judge.
Who knows, perhaps this blogging experience might lead to more writing and someday make me a real author? I don't know.
No, I don't think I'm an author. My writing is very limited.
Lately I often wake up in the middle of the night. The last dream is still dwelling in my mind and I know immediately that this dream is a fantastic beginning for a story. And while in this stage of half-awareness I'm trying to put together the puzzle of the story in my dream I'm slowly drifting back to sleep, wake up again, trying to remember because I know there was something worth being written, but I just can't remember. And the more I try the farer away seem the images to flee. That's new. I had certainly dreams before, sometimes I remembered them, sometimes not. But I didn't care and they never resembled stories.
Will I ever be able to grip one of these dreams and put it into words? I doubt it, but who knows, perhaps reading all the time all these different stories can empower my imagination enough one day to bring those beginnings I see in the middle of the night to an ending.