This is a thread that was popular and quite amusing on the old forum a while back.
The idea is to type a small part of your WIP (or one of your writing projects anyway) into Google Translate, translate it into another language, then translate that into English again and post the resulting gibberish.
I'll go first, with a piece of the last chapter I typed up. Run through Scots Gaelic, then Icelandic, and then back to English again:
Tara was alone somewhere in the woods. It was worse than hunger. When she put her hand over her eyes, she couldn't see it. If it weren't for the wind rustling the leaves beyond the gap, feeling around her, and the slope of the ground beneath her feet, she wouldn't have known she was in the woods at all. The wind blew warmly through her hair and sent shivers down her spine.
It wasn't the wind that did it. There was something much more wrong here. Something beyond the treeline. She couldn't see it, or hear it, or feel it herself; but she didn't need to. She knew it was there. Watching her.
There was a faint rumble of distant thunder and Tara began to walk, heading downhill. Even though she didn't know where she was, she had to go downhill. The campsite was downhill from almost everywhere, and he was sure it would be safer than this.
The thing that was watching her also began to walk downhill. She heard her footsteps.
That shiver froze her spine again. She recognized those steps.
But she didn't know where they came from.
Degree. Degree. Degree. Degree. Degree.
The idea is to type a small part of your WIP (or one of your writing projects anyway) into Google Translate, translate it into another language, then translate that into English again and post the resulting gibberish.
I'll go first, with a piece of the last chapter I typed up. Run through Scots Gaelic, then Icelandic, and then back to English again:
Tara was alone somewhere in the woods. It was worse than hunger. When she put her hand over her eyes, she couldn't see it. If it weren't for the wind rustling the leaves beyond the gap, feeling around her, and the slope of the ground beneath her feet, she wouldn't have known she was in the woods at all. The wind blew warmly through her hair and sent shivers down her spine.
It wasn't the wind that did it. There was something much more wrong here. Something beyond the treeline. She couldn't see it, or hear it, or feel it herself; but she didn't need to. She knew it was there. Watching her.
There was a faint rumble of distant thunder and Tara began to walk, heading downhill. Even though she didn't know where she was, she had to go downhill. The campsite was downhill from almost everywhere, and he was sure it would be safer than this.
The thing that was watching her also began to walk downhill. She heard her footsteps.
That shiver froze her spine again. She recognized those steps.
But she didn't know where they came from.
Degree. Degree. Degree. Degree. Degree.
