Theiling Online    Sitemap    Conlang Mailing List HQ   

Re: conlanging and journaling

From:Benct Philip Jonsson <bpj@...>
Date:Tuesday, February 12, 2008, 6:57
On 12.2.2008 Rick Harrison wrote:
 > I think those who have the calling, or the language-making
 > gene or whatever, are often triggered (usually during
 > adolescence) by _some_ external thing. It might be your
 > first encounter with a foreign language textbook or
 > bilingual dictionary, or seeing your mom/sister's
 > stenography notebook from school, or bceoming aware of
 > Esperanto or Tolkien's languages.

For me it was all of that, but even before that encountering
the Ape language (Mangani) in Tarzan comic books. Actually
it was some time before I realized that Tolkien's conlangs
*were* conlangs, but with Mangani I realized it immediately
(after all there are no talking apes in real life! [^1]).
Maybe I'm of the first generation who were actually
triggered by encountering the conlangs of others? I remember
that witnessing my father's and his Spanish friend's
bilingual conversation had a profound impact on my interest
in language. I had had bilingual conversations before, with
myself speaking Swedish and the other person German -- or
vice versa --, but my dad's and Juan's French-Spanish
conversations was the first time I (a) experienced two other
persons doing it and (b) didn't understand any of the two
languages, but could hear they were different.

[^1]: It seems to me now, that *either* the Mangani people
       were not Pongids but surviving primitive Hominids, or
       their language ought to be a signed language.

As for journaling, I've done it in conscripts, but not in
conlangs. I guess I never was fluent enough in a conlang.

Otherwise I agree with Jan that conlanging is
essentially an art, but one that only now is coming to
its own, with a community of artist. No appreciating
public so far, I'm afraid...

/BP 8^)>
--
Benct Philip Jonsson -- melroch atte melroch dotte se
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
   "C'est en vain que nos Josués littéraires crient
   à la langue de s'arrêter; les langues ni le soleil
   ne s'arrêtent plus. Le jour où elles se *fixent*,
   c'est qu'elles meurent."           (Victor Hugo)