I co-led a creative writing masterclass in Cardiff last week. Literature Across Frontiers seminar on translation and global literature. Topic: bilingual drafting practices.
I designed exercises comparing how the same scene works in Russian versus English. Not translation—original composition in parallel languages. Asking writers to notice where one language offers precision the other can’t access.
Felt fraudulent the entire time. I’m 28. Published five books but still figuring out my own process. Now explaining craft decisions to emerging bilingual writers like I have answers.
The exercises worked anyway. Participants wrote scenes, swapped languages mid-paragraph, identified moments where code-switching wasn’t confusion but clarity. One writer from Poland said she’d been apologizing for mixing languages in her drafts. The exercise showed her the mixing was the point.
Feedback afterward emphasized clarity of guidance. Apparently I made “complex cross-cultural issues workable in the room.” Wasn’t trying to simplify. Was trying to give people permission to write the way they actually think when multiple languages share headspace.
Cardiff itself: Welsh capital, bilingual signage, that particular UK mix of institution and informality. Literature Wales and Cardiff University were co-hosts. First time working with these organizations. Felt like testing whether UK literary infrastructure has space for the work I’m doing.
Alexandra Büchler said I have “pedagogical instinct.” I think I just remember what confused me when starting out and try to address those gaps. If that’s pedagogy, fine. Mostly it’s recognizing that bilingual writers often apologize for the thing that makes their work interesting.
I spent years trying to write “proper” English, suppressing Russian syntax, eliminating code-switching. Waste of time. The interesting work happens in the linguistic gaps, not in performing monolingual fluency.
Taught that to twenty people in Cardiff. Hope it sticks.
— Writer Julia Zolotova
