The sublime in literature (and art in general) is a fascinating but complex concept. The difficulty in comprehending its ins and outs lies squarely in the fluidity of its definition.
Just as the Gothic itself – with which the sublime is heavily associated – that eludes clear-cut definitions, the sublime is not all that clear to put in a box. In a way, the sublime in literature is a way of experiencing. Yet in another way, the sublime is no more than a ghostly reflection – and so, it’s not really prescribing but rather describing.
In simple terms, the sublime in literature is every instance where we reach a threshold of ambiguity. Whenever we (vicariously, through the protagonist) experience the fuzzy passage between reason and emotion, between fear and awe, or between puzzlement and understanding, the sublime is there.
Speaking another language has always been something I’m good at. My native language is not English; Greek isProblematically for the concept of "native language", I often feel unable to come up with a word in Greek that I know perfectly well in English—I had to look up Arrogant yesterday. Needless to say, the issue is far more pronounced with terminology. I feel entirely unable to express myself in Greek when it comes to, say, the Gothic (my academic field of expertise), or aviation (one of my interests). Put simply, I have no idea what Non-normative Uncanny Other or Compressor Stall are in Greek.. I am also fluent in Finnish and, having lived in Italy, I do understand Italian fairly well. I’m also currently learning Japanese, just for fun.
Or then again, maybe not.
Learning a new language can and should be fun, but if the expression “just for fun” implies only a casual process lacking any true significance, let me dispel that impression.
Speaking a new language, besides offering a great way to tickle your brain and expand your horizons, can be a vital tool for a writer. Writing is about experiencing the world, attempting to understand it, and offering an alternative reality; a new way of thinking. Speaking another language helps the writer by occupying each and every part of this chain.
Speaking another language can help you experience the world in ways your native language might not. This way, it can offer you additional tools for understanding your surrounding environment, at the same time providing you with inspiration to alter it.
How, you might ask. It’s a fair question. So, let’s take a closer look at the intricacies of speaking another language and, particularly, how speaking another language can help you become a better writer.
Let’s talk about impostor syndrome and writers. I could here give you a quick definition of what impostor syndrome is (chances are you know already), but let’s start with some personal revelations first. This will take a while to build up, but hopefully your patience will be worth it.
So, here goes…
A List of Flawed Excellence
I’ve written over twenty novels. I’ve published several of them. One of my works is also published traditionally, by a respected publishing house.
I have a PhD in English literature from a fine Finnish university. I also have an MA from the same university, graded laudatur. If you check how academic grading works in Finland, you’ll discover that, at the university level, laudatur “is often reserved for exceptional students and it is typically awarded for a thesis only once in 5 to 10 years.”
I know how to program in HTML/CSS/JavaScript, and I have some limited knowledge of Python and PHP. I have published a few Android apps.
Besides English, I can speak Greek (at a native level) and Finnish – arguably two of the most difficult European languages. I have some basic knowledge of Italian and some very limited knowledge of Japanese.
On top of that, I play guitar/bass and a bit of piano. I have composed some songs, some shared online.
I’ve worked as a professional photographer. I’ve won some local photography awards, too.
I’m a very good chess player.
I have a bit of flying time on a Cessna C172.
New achievement: I can solve the Rubik’s cube in under a minute 😛
What else…
Oh yeah… A day doesn’t pass without me doubting myself and my skills, thinking that any minute now the entire surrounding world will consume me with laughter and taunting.
Impostor Syndrome and Writers: or, how to Kill Your Creativity
Many people far wiser than me have described the key issue of the impostor syndrome. My favorite one is Bertrand Russell’s take on stupidity:
The trouble with the world is that the stupid are cocksure and the intelligent are full of doubt.